"What are you doing tomorrow?" I ask, trying to focus on the most immediate issue.
"Um, giving Oscar a bath?"
I narrow my eyes at her.
She giggles softly. "This isn't another excuse like washing my hair, Mason. I'm really giving him a bath tomorrow. He smells like corn chips and butthole."
"Well, that's descriptive."
"It's true."
"Fine. I'll be here in the morning to change your locks and install cameras while you bathe him."
"Mason."
"Olive."
She huffs at me.
"I'm serious, baby. I'm installing security cameras and changing your locks." I tip her chin back, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Non-negotiable."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of hot when you're being all bossy?" she asks, smiling at me.
I groan, crushing my mouth to hers to silence her before she manages to get herself fucked on her front porch. I'm half tempted to do it anyway. Maybe then I'd feel better about leaving her over here tonight.
Jesus. She was stressing about me being a serial killer. Meanwhile, she's been walking around for two goddamn years while a drug addict and a fucking criminal knows that she lives here alone.
I need her to fall in love with me immediately so I can get my ring on her finger, move in with her, and ensure she's safe. She cannot be walking around unprotected for the rest of her life. I'll lose my damn mind.
"Behave tonight," I growl, breaking the kiss when she starts trying to climb my body.
"Maybe," she says. "Maybe I'll run naked through the neighborhood instead."
I swat her gently on the ass, nipping her bottom lip. "Let me catch you out here naked, Rebel. See what happens."
"You aren't making me want to behave any," she whispers.
I groan, practically launching myself down the steps. "Lock the door behind you, Olive. And put a table in front of it."
"They aren't going to break in, Mason," she says, laughing quietly.
I turn, shooting her a look hot enough to scorch the planet. "No, but I might."
The way she whimpers is going to kill me. It'll be listed right there on my death certificate under cause of death. Olive's hot-as-fuck whimpers. I can't get enough of them.
Hell. I can't get enough ofher.
I barely sleep all night. Instead, I stalk my window like I'm on guard duty. I'm not even sure if I'm checking to ensure she's safe, if I'm hoping to catch another glimpse of her, or if I'm waiting to see if she does try to go streaking through the neighborhood. All I know for sure is that I've got it bad.
By the time the sun comes up, I'm at the hardware store, buying the best fucking locks on the market. I hit up an electronics store next, grabbing a security camera for her front door and another for her backyard. Maybe it's overkill. I don't know. I've never felt like this. I've never had something precious enough to protect.
I do now, and I'm not fucking it up.
She's dressed in the tiniest pair of shorts known to man when I knock on her door. Her hair is a wild mess, a pillow crease stillon her cheek. She looks ravishing, utterly fuckable, and adorable all at the same time.
"I dreamed about you," she blurts by way of greeting.
"Yeah?" I look her up and down. "Were they kinky dreams, Rebel?"