“Tell me his name. I want to know who has access to bring my girlfriend clothes when she stays over,” Oliver demanded softly when he finally pulled back for air. “Glen,” Harper muttered and continued kissing him, he fingers running through his wild black hair, gently. Oliver’s entire body went still for a moment at the name, his hands freezing in place on her back. The casual way she mentioned Glen– as if he were just some background character in her life– sent a sharp pang of something unfamiliar through his chest. “Glen,” he repeated slowly, the name tasting foreign on his tongue. “So, this is the Glen who gets to see you every morning, who know what you look like when you sleep.” His grip on her auburn hair tightened slightly as he pulled back just enough to look into her blue green eye
