Thirst Trap Ex-Boyfriend

Oliver never contacted me again for the rest of the afternoon.

To eliminate every possible chance of a post-work run-in, I left the office the second the clock hit quitting time.

That night, I sat curled up on the couch in a face mask, fully relaxed.

Out of habit, I opened the "Daily Hot Men" videos Bridget had sent me for review.

[Only four abs? Hm. The definition's way too soft. Oliver's eight-pack looked carved out of stone...]

Skip.

[Too pretty. He doesn't have Oliver's whole cold, restrained, dangerously attractive vibe.]

Not interested.

[The atmosphere's decent, but his chest definitely isn't as nice as Oliver's.]

Skip.

[The fishnet outfit's kind of good, but if Oliver wore it with that icy expression and the mole on his collarbone...]

By the time I snapped out of it, I had already finished all 15 videos Bridget sent.

It would've been nice if Oliver were here instead...

Wait. What the hell?

"Claire! Seriously, get it together!" I muttered under my breath.

The man had been back in my life for less than a day, and I was already losing my mind over him again.

I still had to see him every single day for the next few months. At this rate, how was I supposed to survive?

Get a grip! Have some dignity!

Every internal alarm in my brain was screaming at full volume, but my fingers still ignored me and opened elaire's account.

Oliver hadn't posted many videos. Over the last two years, there were barely thirty uploads total, scattered on and off.

But every single one was top-tier.

There were millions of likes per video, and the comments section looked like a public wishing well.

Every glance, every perfectly timed movement, every flex and release of muscle, every prop he used… The man was custom-built for my taste.

Oliver hadn't lost his talent for seducing people.

The videos were all short, but somehow, the more I replayed them, the more addictive they became.

I hovered my finger over the "Follow" button, hesitating, when a notification banner suddenly popped up at the top of the screen.

A text...from Oliver.

My hand jerked so hard that I nearly threw my phone across the room.

Late at night, Oliver had sent me a video. Just the thumbnail alone was bolder than anything he had posted on TikTok.

In the video, he looked freshly out of the shower, heat and steam still clinging faintly to his skin...

A white towel hung low around his waist, barely covering the important parts. Water droplets slid slowly down the grooves of his chest, across his abs, before disappearing beneath the towel...

The overhead light cast a warm golden glow behind him, outlining the sharp V-shape of his broad shoulders and narrow waist...

The entire video practically screamed, "Come ruin me."

A few minutes later, Oliver wrote, [Sorry. Sent that to the wrong person. Can't unsend it now, so just pretend you never saw it.]

Could he make it any more obvious?

My fingers flew across the keyboard, typing furiously.

But in the end, cowardice won.

"Oliver, please just let me live," I said to myself.

I closed the chat without sending a thing.

Thanks to Oliver, my dreams that night were way too vivid for my own good.

The next morning, I drifted into the office looking half-dead with dark circles under my eyes.

Tracy dragged me into the break room and bluntly announced that a man had clearly sucked the life out of me.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and nodded weakly.

"A top-tier incubus, too..."

Before I could finish speaking, a shadow fell beside me, carrying that familiar cold woody scent.

At some point, Oliver had appeared next to me. He wore another perfectly tailored dark suit, his expression noticeably displeased.

I stiffly looked up, instinctively searching for help.

Sensing danger immediately, Tracy abandoned me without hesitation and disappeared.

"Traitor."

Forced into eye contact with Oliver, I let out an awkward laugh.

"Morning, Mr. Holden."

One hand tucked into his pocket, Oliver reached the other behind me and braced it against the counter as he leaned closer.

I sucked in a breath and instinctively turned my face away.

"Claire." He paused, eyes following my evasive gaze before asking slowly, "You didn't like the video I sent last night?"

A sharp tingling sensation shot straight from the base of my spine to my scalp. I forced an uncomfortable smile, eyes darting everywhere except him.

"Wh-what video? I went to bed early last night. I didn't even check my texts..."

Something dark flickered in Oliver's eyes. His jaw tightened sharply.

After a long silence, he finally let out a cold laugh and said with complete certainty, "You still have feelings for me."

The shame hit me so hard that it felt like he had stripped me bare on the spot.

I didn't know how to answer that. All I could do was force myself to stay calm.

Oliver stared at me for a long moment before suddenly grabbing my wrist and pulling me toward the door.

"What are you doing?!"

I tried to break free, but his grip locked around me like iron.

"If you don't want people finding out about us," he said calmly, "then come with me."

I opened my mouth, but, knowing there was no escaping this anymore, I said nothing in the end. I simply let Oliver lead me into his office.