Page 25 of Gold Digger
“I’ll be perfectly fine.”
After she left, Ollie stared after her for a moment and ran his hand through his hair before turning back to me.
“What was that about?” I asked. I’d already crossed so many lines today, who cared if I added being supremely nosy into the mix.
Ollie turned back to me, took a deep breath in, before letting it out slowly. Then he walked over to where I was sitting, caged me in with his hands either side of me on the worktop and stared down at me, one side of his mouth hitching up in a small grin.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, searching my face, his eyes burning bright blue.
I blinked up at him absorbing the totally bizarre scenario where a gorgeous duke in a three-piece suit, looking like he just stepped out of a modelling shoot, told me, Lottie Forest – baggy jeans, a sweatshirt which had bleach stains on it, no make-up and unbrushed hair balancing on top of my head in a messy bun (of the unsexy variety) – that I was beautiful. My mind blanked as I breathed in his aftershave and manly Ollie smell.
“You’re so handsome that sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe,” I told him. Yes, that’s what I said in a breathy little voice, completely saturated with my need for him. His eyes flashed as one of his hands went up and into my hair, the other to my jaw, tilting my face towards his as his lips brushed against mine, light at first and then he made a low noise at the back of his throat before he deepened the kiss. My hands between us clutched at his shirt and my legs opened to let his hips between us so I could feel his heat against me where I needed it. I moved against him and felt a growl vibrate his chest as one of his large hands went around my back to pull me against him, lifting me up. I managed to get my hand from between us, going up under his shirt and waistcoat and eliciting another deep growl when I felt his hot skin and the bunched muscles underneath.
“Fuck,” he breathed against my mouth as he moved against me and I let out a small moan. “Lottie, baby. I can’t… I…” Then there was a crash on the tiles next to us and we broke apart with a start. I glanced down to see the delicate teacup I’d used earlier smashed across the hard surface then moved back to Ollie.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed into his mouth.
“What?” he whispered, sounding pained.
“About the china. It’s so pretty, and?—”
He chuckled, low and deep and I felt him everywhere. “Lottie, I give no fucks about the goddamn china,” he said, his lips almost brushing mine and I shivered. His eyes startedburning again as his breath stuttered, but just before I thought he was about to kiss me he jerked away. “Bollocks!”
“W-what’s wrong?” I asked, my arms coming up around to hug myself in the cold that the absence of his large warm body left behind. “Did I do something that?—?”
“No, of course not, baby,” he said through a groan, pacing away from me and raking his hands through his thick hair. “It’s me. I…” He shook his head then stared into my eyes. “Being around you here it’s… God, Lottie, I’m trying really hard here to take things slowly. That does not include pinning you down and living out all the scenarios I fantasise about pretty much all the time. But having you here in my house is making things…” he laughed. “Well, it’s making things hard – literally and figuratively.”
I felt heat hit my cheeks as I pressed my lips together.
“Come out with me now.”
“What?” I frowned. “But Ollie, I’m working.”
“Well, I happen to know your boss and I know that he doesn’t give a fuck if you skip a few hours of cleaning.” His tone turned cajoling as he aimed a crooked smile at me. “Come on, Lottie. Just a few hours outside the house. I’ve cancelled the rest of my day. Don’t leave me hanging. I promise it’ll be fun.”
I bit my lip. Fun. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I did something just for fun. Without obligation. Without worrying constantly. Ollie held out his hand to me and I hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment.
Chapter 12
Fishmonger
Ollie
“What’s wrong?”
Lottie had pulled me to a stop outside the restaurant. Her eyebrows were raised as she looked between me and the entrance before she huffed out a laugh.
“Ollie, I cannot go in there like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, genuinely baffled.
She pulled her hand from mine to sweep a hand down her body and up again. “Like this!”
“You look great.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ollie, I smell of bleach. I’m wearing a ratty old cat sweatshirt and even rattier jeans and the sole of my trainer is peeling away. I do not lookgreat.” Her hand went up to the messy bun on top of her head and she groaned. “Ugh, I don’t even think I brushed my hair this morning.”
“Nobody cares about that stuff.”
