A smile curved my lips. “Didyouspend any money on flashy jewels or holidays?”
“No, I bought my mother some trainers to put on under her gown because, and I quote, ‘Rose said heels are fucking stupid, and you know what? I agree with her.’”
I laughed, relaxing a bit more. “Heels have their place… like dinner tables.”
“Well, there were no dinner tables, just fancy canapes and shit,” he replied, chuckling. “So, Mum got her trainers, and I decided to use my money to invest in some local businesses instead. How’s that?”
I snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting fond of Hanbury.”
“Hm, maybe I am.” He tilted my head back and hovered his lips over mine. “I’m sorry I upset you,” he whispered, sealing his apology with a gentle kiss.
I leant up into it, resting my hand on the side of his neck. “Jealousy is my problem, right?”
He shook his head. “My jealousy is my problem, and your jealousy is my problem. You wouldn’t have to be jealous if I didn’t make you feel that way, so I’ll do better in the future, so it doesn’t happen again.”
The future.
Was there really such a thing for us?
Instead of saying the words out loud, I kissed him, falling deeper under his spell. Everything about him was gentle, from the touch of his lips on mine to the way his hand cradled my head while the other roamed across my back. It was all soft and slow, each touch filled with an emotion that almost made me feel dizzy.
Ah.
I really was in love with him.
“Oli,” I whispered.
“Let me fix what I did wrong,” he breathed back, touching his forehead to mine. “Let me show you why you have no reason to be jealous of any of those women.”
I hesitated, then nodded, and he stood up. He scooped me up into his arms in a princess hold and headed for the stairs, carrying me up to the bedroom. When we reached it, he gently laid me on the bed before leaning his body over mine.
His gaze roved over me. “God, I missed you.”
Then he kissed me. It was just the same as downstairs—slow and languid, and he let out a gentle hum as our tongues met, as if he’d never tasted anything so sweet. I was completely intoxicated by him. Everything from his voice to his touch to his mere presence was an aphrodisiac, and I was a goner, completely drowning in whatever magic he possessed.
This was hardly the first time I’d been in this situation, but as his hands roamed across my body, it felt worlds apart from any other time. Before it’d always been about the pleasure, about us teasing and toying with one another, seeing who could break and tip over the edge of no return.
This…
This was anything but.
This was a gentle exploration. He moved down my body, removing my clothes, kissing and touching me like I was something to be revered. My skin pebbled under his careful caress, and as he moved his head between my legs, I clenched my stomach in anticipation.
His tongue was gentle but intense, like he was tasting me, savouring me, almost. He left no part of me untouched as he brought me to the edge of a shaking orgasm and held me in place while I tipped over. His kisses on the insides of my thighs wereloving whispers, and every brush of his fingertips against my skin were awe-filled strokes.
He leant over me, bringing me back to sanity with a deep kiss. I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, and he pushed into me, slowly burying himself into the deepest part of me. A gasp escaped my lips as he filled me and pleasure tickled out through my nerves.
This was slow.
Each thrust was lazy but controlled. Each probe of his tongue against mine was cautious but greedy. Each rapid thump of my heart synced perfectly with his, and I understood exactly what he was trying to tell me.
Only me.
I was the only one who got to feel this touch from him.
I was the only one who got to see, feel, breathe, this version of Oliver de Havilland.
Because we felt the same.