Page 76 of The Felicity Theory (The Laws of Love 4)

“A Tolkien elf or a Christmas elf?”

“Tolkien elves are tall and blonde if I remember rightly. So, more the Christmas variety.”

She gave his arm a playful punch. He bent his head and kissed her lips, slow and lingering. With his eyes closed and the dark sweep of his lashes brushing his cheeks, he no longer seemed this impossibly handsome designer suits and French cologne kind of guy.

He seemed likeherguy, naked and all roughed up. Perfectly imperfect. And at least for tonight, yes, most definitely all hers.

“And these,” he moved his fingers down, skimmed them across her breasts, which perked up immediately as his fingers found her nipples, “are divine.”

“I have been told.”

“You used them against me.” A dull blush spread across his cheeks. “I’ve never—um, never—done—”

She wriggled back and stared at him. “What? You’ve never been the recipient of atitty fuck?’ She almost said it again just to appreciate that when he winced his mouth twisted to one side and his brow furrowed in a way that was sex personified.

“Must you call it that?”

“Okay. Boobie boink then.”

“Jesus Christ. Is that an official term?”

“I don’t know, but it kind of fits, don’t you think?”

At which Oliver kissed her quiet, very thoroughly. When they came up for air he said, “I’ve never met a woman like you. You’re such a combination of butter-won’t-melt-in-your-mouth and then out comes this… gutter talk.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, Sir Oliver, you are sounding incredibly pompous—and dare I say it, almost British. I guess living with Evie makes me fairly open about what I say. If you want gutter talk, she’s practically got a Ph.D. in it.”

“What does Evie do, other than talk gutter language?”

“She’s a sculptress and an installation artist. She creates scenes with her sculptures. At the moment she’s making the seven deadly sins out of fibreglass for an exhibition in Knightsbridge. She’s done an installation of the 101 Dalmatians outside Battersea Dogs Home and a virtual kingdom of fairies in Kensington Gardens near Peter Pan’s statue. She’s amazingly creative.”

“She sounds it. And Felix?”

“He’s a gardener and a support worker for men with mental health issues.”

Oliver rolled over and lay on his back next to her. “Predicting swings in the stock market pales in comparison. Now I feel quite inadequate.”

“Hard to believe.”

They were sandwiched side by side on the tiny mattress. She raised her head. “Have you enough room there?”

“No, my butt’s hanging off the side.”

She shuffled and he wriggled closer. “Is your leg okay?” he asked.

She nodded and felt his arm circle her shoulders again. It was remarkably comfortable despite the squeezy space. Pulling her hair away from her face, she laid her head back on his chest. Listened to his heart beating. It felt so intimate, like they’d been doing this forever… could keep doing it forever.

“So, can I ask why your sexual repertoire has never involved a titty fuck, or is that getting too personal?”

He paused, then completely surprised her. “I started late. I didn’t have a girlfriend until I was twenty.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wha—?

“I was a shy kid. Actually, I was a fat, introverted kid who had a talent for numbers and liked collecting samples of rocks and minerals. Until I was ten years old, and then my parents took me skiing and Mum made me throw myself down a mountain at speed with two pieces of fibreglass strapped to my feet and something radically shifted. That moment I really understood being inside my own body. Really inhabiting it, not just dragging it along for the ride. I worked my arse off after that to get fit—hockey and skiing were my passions. And I realised that social skills were something you could learn. So I taught myself the science of emotional intelligence, how to listen, how to ask open questions and keep a conversation going.”

“That all sounds a bit calculating.” Her heart contracted, because wasn’t that exactly what he’d done with her these past few days? Those thoughtful eyes trained on her face as he effortlessly got her talking about herself.

“It wasn’t like that. I was just desperate to be popular. I had a little brother who lit up the world when he entered a room, and I—I guess I was envious. I wanted to know what that felt like. So yeah, I wasn’t great with girls to begin with.”

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