Page 27 of Game on, Love

I rolled my eyes, stepping closer in his direction, making his eyes glint. “Come on, troublemaker. Breakfast.” Milo’s ears perked up at the word.

I didn’t offer him my hold, knowing he would reject me, and before I could blink, he scurried out of the room.

Another shiver went down my spine, knowing I now had all of Oliver’s attention. His gaze swept over me, and when his eyes connected with mine again, something darker lit in them.

I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of the fact I was just in my pjs and my nightshirt was long enough that it covered my shorts.

“He’s really not that friendly. Especially with men.”

“Maybe he knows I’m special.”

I snorted, “I wouldn’t let it get to your head, King. Maybe he just wanted attention,”

“I’m happy to give it.” His voice followed me as I walked out of the room, pretending the flutter in my chest was just the caffeine kicking in.

Downstairs, Milo settled by his bowl with the same enthusiasm Lilli had shown earlier, leaving me to try and shake off the pull of Oliver’s gaze.

When I turned around, he was entering the kitchen, fully dressed and extending a hoodie in my direction.

I watched him, curious, and he just shrugged. “You looked cold.”

“I’ve got one upstairs. I can put it on when I go back up,”

“I don’t mind,”

I hesitated.

“What are you worried about?”

It was like my brain had short-circuited. How could I tell him that it felt like we were crossing an invisible line?

This is stupid. It’s just a hoodie.

I sighed, taking it from his hands. “Thank you.”

Slipping my arms into his hoodie, instantly, I was engulfed in his scent. A burst of something fresh and light, like a soft breeze mixed with something earthy and comforting. I couldn’t help the small laugh that flew out of me as the hem covered my night shirt completely. The sleeves reached past my hands.

“I like it, it’s cosy.” I glanced back at him, only to find him watching me with an expression so strong, I wasn’t sure what it meant.

“You can keep it if you want,” He replied, walking over to the fridge. “You look good.”

I nodded, unsure how to respond.

Thankfully, Milo tapped his bowl, and I turned to him apologetically before grabbing the kibble again.

Once I’d filled it, I straightened and sat back down to where I’d left my coffee cup and watched Oliver.

Unlike the food boxes in the fridge, he grabbed actual ingredients. “Have you eaten anything?”

“It’s too early for food,” I frowned, as he placed the ingredients and stood across from me.

“It’s too early?” He laughed softly, and even though he had done it before, in that second, it somehow felt more intimate than it had any right to be. “You’re drinking coffee but can’t manage breakfast?”

“Coffee is different,”

“Different?”

“I need it to survive,”