Page 88 of His Greatest Treasure

“Teenage crush, remember? I listened. You hate roses. Especially red ones.”

I’ve always thought they were cheesy. A lame choice when it comes to men needing to show affection to a woman. They walk into a store and grab the first bundle they can find without putting any real thought into it. It’s an empty, thoughtless gesture. One Chris made every single time we’d fight. He never cared when they wound up in the garbage the next morning.

The pink peonies in my hand tonight mean more than Oliver could ever know. They aren’t anything loud, but instead, they’re thoughtful. I remember explaining the rose trap to all of the guys when we were just kids. Oliver was always hiding somewhere or ignoring everyone back then; I never thought he’d been paying attention after all.

I tuck the bouquet into my chest, holding it tight. “Thank you. I love them.”

His eyes crinkle before I lose sight of them, stepping onto the porch ahead of him. The door is still unlocked, so we walk right in.

“You can keep your shoes on. I just need a second,” I tell him.

My heels clack on the floor, but his lack of footsteps has me sparing a look behind me. He’s toeing off his black dress shoes, disregarding my comment.

I don’t tease him for it because, again, he’s being incredibly thoughtful. It’s like he’s cranked his gentlemanly dial up to a thousand in hopes of seeing me falling all over myself in front of him.

I’m nearly there already.

In the kitchen, I make quick work of snipping the stems of the flowers and adding my favourite plant food in two vases before filling them with water. The smaller bouquet, Nova’s, is an arrangement of simple yellow daisies that I know she’ll take one look at and squeal over.

Oliver joins me but stands back and watches me work in silence. His presence fills the kitchen, and I sneak another glance at him before shaking my head.

Black slacks, a navy blue button-up with the sleeves unbuttoned and folded three times, and a thick black belt make him look like a model fromGQ. He’s gelled back his hair and shaved away the scruff on his jaw. The flowers were a distraction earlier, keeping me from checking him out like this when he first stepped on the curb.

My pulse beats in double time before I drop my eyes back to the flowers I’m sticking into the vases.

“What?” he asks.

I wet my lips. “You look handsome.”

“Do I?”

“You know you do.”

His socks keep his steps silent, but I feel him once he’s come close. He circles my wrist with one hand and holds my waist with the other as he stands behind me, my back to his chest.

The fabric of my dress is thin enough for his touch to seep through. I let my eyes flutter shut and lean into his hold, swearing I can feel his heart pounding against my back.

“You’re breathtaking, Avery. Now and always.”

His mouth moves to my throat, and I expose it to him with a tilt of my head. The first press of his lips to my pulse has my knees weak. The second makes me moan, the sound unfamiliar to my ears.

The vibration of his answering groan splatters against my throat before he’s spinning me around and gripping my thighs to lift me onto the table.

I spread my legs on instinct, allowing him the room to move between them. He’s so fucking close now, and I lock my ankles around his back, the top curve of his ass brushing my heels.

He presses his palms to the tops of my thighs and bends to level his face to mine. I arch my back, using my arms to propmyself up. One nod of my head and he’s digging his teeth into his lip, a silent battle clashing in the brown of his eyes.

“Tell me if you need more time, Avery. Because if you don’t, I’m going to spread you out on this table and make you come. I’m too hungry to wait for dinner. I need an appetizer first. Been waiting a long, long time for this one.”

The deep, throaty tone of his voice is almost enough to take me there without anything else. My answer is instant, sure.

“I’m ready.”

29

OLIVER

The words are hardlyout of her mouth when I unhook her legs from my waist and spread them wide on the table. Her dress rides up, bunching at her hips as she’s left exposed by the new position.

---