Harper bites her lower lip and looks up at him with a look of desire. "You do not look to bad yourself," she said softly and her gaze roamed down his chest. "You always look too sexy." Oliver's breath catches at the way her bleu green eyes rake over his chest, her gaze hungry and appreciative. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face as he leans back slightly, giving her a better view. "Sexy, huh?" he drawls, his voice taking on that low, confident tone she loves. "I am glad you think so." His hand moves from her jaw to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair there. "You are the one who looks like a goddamn goddess right now," he continues, his thumb stroking along her pulse point. "All flushed and messy from me."
Oliver's other hand comes up to trace the curve of her collarbone beneath the blanket. The food on the coffee table is completely forgotten as his focus shifts entirely back to Harper. The initial post-orgasm calm has been replaced by a simmering heat in his icy blue eyes. "I think I need another taste," he says with a deep voice. "Whoa," Harper says quickly. "Stop distracting me. I came here hungry… at least feed me before your ravage me again." Oliver lets out a low chuckle at her demand, his smirk widening. "Fair enough. I suppose you have earned a proper meal after all that." He leans over to grab the food bag from the coffee table; his movements deliberate and teasing. "Pasta carbonara with extra parmesan, just how you like it," he says, pulling out the containers.
While Oliver moves to the kitchen to place the food on plates and heat it up in the microwave, Harper puts her blue dress back on, not bothering with underwear. His movements in the kitchen become slightly clumsier as he catches sight of her slipping back into her dress. The way the fabric hugs her curves without the benefit of underwear sends a fresh wave of heat straight to his groin. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, turning back to the microwave with renewed purpose. "She is trying to kill me tonight." He plates the food quickly, his hand shaking slightly from the effort of concentrating on simple tasks instead of walking back over there and bending her over the kitchen counter.
When Oliver returns to the living room with two plates of steaming pasts, his icy blue eyes immediately find Harper sitting on the sofa again, the dress does little to hide the fact she she is bare beneath it. "You are a menace," he says with a low laugh, setting one plate down in front of her before sitting close beside her. "Do you have any idea what that dress is doing to my self-control right now?" "What you want me to go put on something that covers up more?" she asks teasingly while taking a bite of her Pasta carbonara. Oliver's jaw tightens at the sight of her teasing smile as she takes a bite of her Pasta carbonara. The way her lips wrap around the fork is distracting enough without the knowledge that she is completely naked underneath that thin dark blue dress.
"No," Oliver says firmly, setting his own plate down on the coffee table with more force than necessary. "Do not dare cover yourself up." His blue eyes darken with possessive heat as he leans closer to her. "I like knowing that under this dress, you are completely mine," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that dangerous low register that always makes her shiver. "That no one else gets to see you like this except me." His hand moved to rest on her thigh beneath the hem of her dress, fingers brushing against bare skin. "So, eat your dinner quickly," he says impatiently. "Yes, sir," Harper says playfully and takes another bite. "So, how was your day?" Oliver's lips twitch at her playful obedience, through his expression remains intense.
"My day was absolute hell until about an hour ago." Oliver picks up his own fork but does not eat immediately, instead focusing on watching her eat. The way she moves gracefully even while teasing him is mesmerizing. "The Johnson account meeting after lunch was a disaster," he begins, stabbing his Pasta carbonara with more force than necessary. "Mr. Davies kept trying to argue for a strategy I know will fail within six months." His free hand tightens slightly on her thigh as he speaks, thumb drawing slow circles on her bare skin beneath the dress. "But then I got to come home to you looking like this and everything else just… faded away." His gaze lifts to meet hers over their plates. "So yeah, my day was shit. Yours?"
"Mine was not too bad. Though Knox came in right near the end of the day to introduce his new campaign to Marius," Harper said professional. "Seems like the campaign is going to be quiet the event. Might require a lot more extra work in the future." Oliver's expression immediately shifts to one of annoyance at the mention of Knox's name. His fork clatters against his plate as he sets it down with a sharp sound. "Knox," he says through gritted teeth, running a hand through his black hair in frustration. "That man is a walking distraction with thinks his designer status gives him license to be a complete asshole." He stands abruptly and begins pacing the living room, his bare chest flexing with each angry step.
"Extra work means more time spent dealing with his ridiculous ideas and trying to keep Marius from firing him every five minutes." Oliver stops pacing to face Harper directly, his hands braced on his hips. "Tell me exactly what he said about this campaign. Every detail." His protective instincts kick in immediately– he hates the idea of Harper having to deal with Knox's annoying personality on top of her regular workload. "Just that it would be revolutionary. One of a kind. And he wants to use regular models instead of the skinny models we normally use," Harper said between chewing. "He seemed pretty excited."