Page 80 of Dallas Rivals

The ball of energy I feel at the base of my stomach grows stronger and stronger until it finally explodes, my orgasm reaching its peak as I scream Oliver’s name.

He increases his speed and thrusts his tongue deeper as my orgasm spreads throughout my body like a nuclear shockwave.

“I told you you’d end up saying my name,” he murmurs, voice low and smug.

Oliver stretches out beside me, still catching his breath, and takes my left hand, resting it over his stomach. His skin is warm, solid—a quiet contrast to the chaos still humming inside me.

“What was your life like before you came here?” he asks.

I think for a moment before answering, because now that I’m here, everything about my old life feels… small.

Ordinary.

“I worked for the local newspaper in Waco,” I say. “Interviewed shop owners, covered community events. At night I was working on my post-grad in digital journalism.”

Oliver’s voice is soft, thoughtful. “Do you miss it?”

I pause, considering the question, then shake my head gently. “Honestly? Not really. Life back then feels dull compared to this place—your animals, your land… this quiet.” A faint smile touches my lips as I glance at him. “I don’t know how you leave for the city every week. Feels like my city-girl days are long gone.”

Oliver chuckles softly, a breath more than a laugh.

“I try not to think about it. I do my job, deal with my employees and get back here as fast as I can.”

“I get that,” I whisper. “I don’t think I’ve ever woken up actually excited to start a day before this.”

He hooks our fingers together, and for a while, the silence between us feels warm instead of awkward. My body is still aware of his nearness, his quiet steadiness—but somewhere deep inside, a small voice whispers a warning.

We’re crossing into something dangerous now, something real.

Cala Saint-Clair rests beside me.

We don’t talk much—just a few quiet words here and there—but inside the silence, all I feel is peace.

No urge to leave.

No need to rush back to the lonely life waiting on the other side of this moment.

Something new has taken root inside me.

For the first time in years, the walls I built have lowered, just enough for me to breathe her in, to enjoy what she brings into my life.

It’s strange how someone so different from me, so damn opposite, can pull me in like this—make me crazy with curiosity, burn me alive with desire.

She’s color.

I’m gray.

And yet somehow, together, we make sense.

A few minutes ago, I was lying in my own bed, her scent still clinging to my pillow from the night she pulled me out of a nightmare.

And then, before I even knew what I was doing, I was standing at her door.

I wanted to see her.

Talk to her.

Know her.