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Olivia
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Waking up in Rourke’s arms, I smile up at him. Lord, my body is still humming with sexual repletion after our long night. He let me fall asleep somewhere around one in the morning, only to wake me as pink light filtered through the windows for a slow, sweet lovemaking. “No more alarm set for before seven.” To keep from asking for how much longer, I kiss my way down his body to suck his cock in celebration.
I want to kiss Cheryl when she’s the one who brings it up at breakfast as we all eat together an hour later. “So, Rourke, are you going back to your house or will you be staying on longer?”
He shrugs as he looks to me. “I figure I’ll spend the nights here when Olivia is working, then on her nights off take her home with me.”
I nod in agreement. I’m happy to know he’s thought about us beyond the day after tomorrow, considering I’ve been working hard not to think beyond taking every day as it comes. I also love he wants to take me to his home, it had been nice the day after my delicious punishment. When we were free to swim naked together in his pool and not hold in the little touches I’m still inhibited from giving him in front of Cheryl.
Cheryl tilts her head as she considers the plan. “Sounds reasonable.”
***
Olivia
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It’s three days after the end of the festival and tomorrow is my first day off. The night seems like any other, as all three of us chat and eat dinner. Until Rourke starts cleaning up after us and wiping down the counters, then looks at his mom. “Are you good for me to take Olivia over to my place to get her settled in?”
Cheryl smiles wide. “Yes, dear, I’m quite caught up to season seven. I really hope they get that horrible Dick.”
Rourke laughs as he kisses her cheek. “All right, remember if you need anything just call.” To me he nods toward the bedroom. “Pack a bag with enough clothes you can keep some there so you don’t have to pack a bag every time.”
My stomach drops at what he means. When I thought of this I really believed it would be me packing a bag every time, then making sure not to leave a trace I’d ever been there. Only Rourke wants me to leave clothes at his place as if it were my place too. I jump up to hide the stupid girly tears threatening to blow my totally-cool-with-whatever-he-wants attitude I promised myself I would take. First I go into the room I rarely enter anymore, the one that used to be mine, to retrieve a bag to pack.
Rourke follows me in; his arms go around my waist as his mouth goes down to my neck. “Don’t pack a whole lot though, because I like the idea of you being naked the entire time you’re there.”
I laugh. “Does that go for you too?”
“Of course. Definitely no swimsuit either, just a lot of sunblock. I want every inch of you a golden brown. Pack only the clothes you want to stay at my place. A few sundresses, I love you in those, some bras but no panties, that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir.” I gasp as his hand trails under the sundress I’m wearing to run along the slit of my panties damp with need.
“Hmm...hurry, sweetheart, I need to eat my dessert.” With a nip at my neck, he’s gone.
He’s so dirty. I laugh as I grab three sundresses and two maxi dresses I hope will work for wherever he wants to go.
The moment the door closes behind us I’m pressed against the wood, Rourke’s mouth hot and hungry on mine. Ruling me, owning me. I moan as my legs threaten to give out from under me. My head goes back against the door when his mouth frees me, only to come up fast again as he grabs the front of my dress and tears it from my body. Oh fuck, the look in his eyes should fry me where I stand; then he’s on his knees, tearing my panties from me.
I catch my breath as he slides one of my legs over his back before attacking my pussy. Oh god, oh god, he’s driving me out of my mind, too fast. I’m coming, his tongue toys with my clit as he sends two fingers deeper and deeper into me. I’m already coming apart when the fingers pull out of my tight channel to find that spot... Oh god. They rub and rub and I’m screaming now until my throat is hoarse. It’s too much, too much, I can’t take it.
“Yes, you can, Olivia. You can take everything I give,” Rourke whispers as he slides his cock inside me, draws my legs around his waist, then slams home into me. Home, yes, he’s home inside me now. This moment is ours, it belongs to us alone, when he comes home inside me, completing every part of me I never knew was missing, sealing every crack I didn’t know was broken. Tearing me apart to put me back together as us—not just me anymore, not just Rourke, but us—this moment as I cry out my climax, this is ours, this is us when we become one. He growls as he comes deep inside me in what I swear is agreement.
***
Olivia
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The weeks fly by in a sweet, hazy blur broken up by moments of sweetness and wicked pleasure, both with Rourke and, shockingly, Cheryl. I’m able to get her out of the house for the day to take day trips to the museums in Dallas and Houston. We spend hours talking about Rourke and his father. She teaches me how to bake the most awesomely yummy things, things I swear to Rourke he doesn’t have to try, but he does with a smile. And I melt each time he does, because even though it’s filled with sugar and wheat and all the bad stuff, he does it to please me, and sometimes he doesn’t even swim for hours to work off what he ate. I love how every time he makes a conscious effort to let the strict eating go, to simply enjoy the moment for me, with me.
Rourke is home every night by five, even if sometimes he has to get up early or stay up late to connect with the hotels in France and Italy. I love how on my days off, Rourke takes the day off too and we spend it together, sometimes in bed, sometimes out for dinner or lunch. We go to movies, we talk about books and all the years that made us who we are.
Until suddenly it’s the first of June and a text comes through from Gabe.
Hey, lil sis. You got any plans with your man for your birthday yet?
I bite my lip. By coincidence my birthday falls on my day off. Only I haven’t mentioned my birthday, and I’m not sure if Rourke or Cheryl knows. I’m not comfortable mentioning it, too worried it will seem like I’m asking for something. It’s been over a month since I last saw Gabe for dinner, when Rourke urged me to go hang out with Gabe since it had been a while.
No plans. I have the day off though. He usually takes the day off on my day off so we spend it together. What are you thinking? Would the day before be okay instead?
With Gabe I never know. One year he took me to SeaWorld for the day. One year it was to a greasy spoon where he handed me a card with a hundred bucks because he was too busy to go shopping. Last year, we started with brunch then went to a theater to see the Godfather trilogy with dinner included at intermission.
In turn, I have given him vintage prints to put in his shop, a few different pairs of leather chaps, and my proudest moment: a rusting Triumph that hadn’t been ridden or touched in thirty years and needed pretty much everything new that wasn’t metal. It took him almost a year to get it back into shape.
Day before is good. I’m thinking an early dinner at that Italian place you like. Then I got a hookup for tickets to the weird circus show you like downtown.
I love my brother so much. It’s completely out of his comfort zone, but he doesn’t think twice about doing it because he knows I’ll love it.
It’s Cirque du Soleil, dork. Sounds awesome. Thank you
I’m laughing at his text.
Cirque du can suck it. I’ll probably sleep the whole way through. I’ll pick you up at five thirty. The show starts at seven.
––––––––
My response is simple.
K
The urge to call Rourke is strong, but I don’t. It’s only a little after eleven. He’ll call within the next few hours, I can wait until then. I love how he calls me every day. Sometimes the calls last no longer than a few minutes, while once we were talking for over an hour before he had to go. Thinking about the call, I smile at the way Rourke asked me my thoughts on things to add to the appeal of the boutique hotel in Tours. Should he have the stables cleaned up and rebuilt, and should he have horses? What kind of things would I want in a hotel in the middle of the countryside? Would he be wasting money trying to appeal to families, or should he stay in the vein of getting away from it all? Nothing I said was stupid to him; even if he didn’t agree with it, he considered what I thought and even made notes.
The idea of Rourke not simply asking my thoughts, but taking notes had me chuckling in the surreal moment. When I answered his question of why I was laughing, he told me about how a teenager working at the hotel for a few hours a week once made a suggestion that at the time seemed so obvious Rourke found it hard to believe the hotels weren’t already doing it. Once the change was implemented, their scores increased, with the change commented on often. He also firmly believed it was his lack of experience in the hotel industry which helped him think outside of the box to make changes and provide services other hotels weren’t willing to do.
“If you don’t know, I started in commercial real estate, and it’s still where the bulk of my money comes from. The downtown hotel was my first foray into owning a hotel. I never thought it would be a long-term thing. I figured I would restore it, build it up into a moneymaker then take the first offer where I made a tidy profit. Only an offer never came big enough for me before I got bitten by the bug. It was different than buying and selling and renting and building to suit, to have this almost living, breathing thing constantly in motion, playing a huge part in people’s lives. It was gratifying in a way real estate never was.
“The South hotel was the same thing. It was prime real estate I was sure needed a little money and a lot of attention, then I would flip it over. Only when the offers came to buy it, my employees begged me to not sell. They promised they would run it so smoothly all I had to do was cash the checks. For them, they had never had such an easy, willing to listen owner, and the hotel was relatively small so I kept it. To this day it runs so smoothly I forget about it sometimes.”
“Do you think you’ll ever sell, any of them?”
He’s quiet. “I don’t know. I’m not saying never. If the right offer happened maybe.”
“And here I thought it was all about the money. Maybe you aren’t a cold, ruthless billionaire with a register where his heart is after all.”
His laughter sends a warm glow through me to my fingertips. I’m so proud he laughs often, I never take it for granted. “Smart-ass. I’m sorry, I have another call I have to take. I’ll be home around six tonight, or as soon as I can wrap up the conference call.”
“Okay, see you soon. Bye.”
That was almost a month ago. A happy sigh escapes me. It’s been three whole months, when I first thought we wouldn’t last longer than a week or two. It’s hard not to get wistful when the last few months have been so wonderful.
“Olivia, dear?” Cheryl’s expression of sadness sends a shiver of fear through me.
“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” I stand to guide her to the sofa.
“I’m fine, really. It’s my mother. I think I need to go see her to...you know, make my peace with her before she passes.”
“Wait? Your mother is alive? I was under the impression she was dead already. You only ever speak of her in the past tense.”
“Well, it’s because it’s how I think of her.” Cheryl sighs as she presses a hand to her chest. “She said the most vile things about Emilio and Rourke being Mexican. I couldn’t believe it. I really just couldn’t understand the horrible things she said. Here I finally found happiness after years of pain and abuse, and she’s calling me names for daring to be with someone who wasn’t white. It was awful, she made it clear she wouldn’t accept Emilio or Rourke, so if she wouldn’t accept them then there was nothing left for us to say to each other. I haven’t spoken to her in over thirty years. But now, it’s time.”
“I’m so sorry. When do you want us to leave? Will we be flying or would you prefer to drive?”
“Oh no, dear, I need to go alone. It isn’t far, she and my sisters live in San Antonio. My sister, Jane, is going to allow me to stay with her.” Cheryl rolls her eyes.
“You have sisters?” I’m so confused. All these hours of talking and not one word about all these people. A small part of me is hurt she wasn’t willing to talk to me about them when I have told her pretty much everything about me she asked.
She sees my hurt, and her arms come around me to hug me close. “Dear, don’t look so upset. I haven’t talked to two of my sisters in more than twenty years. Jane is the only who has been willing to keep in contact with me, and I talk to her maybe once a year. My whole family abandoned me, my two uncles included, along with a handful of cousins. None of my sisters were willing to go against my mother.
“At first I didn’t talk about them because it was painful. Eventually, I let them go, let go of the idea of what a relationship with my sisters or mother was supposed to look like. You know, those dreams you have of spending summers together, watching our kids play as we reminisce over our own summers. I let go of those expectations so I could live in and enjoy what I did have.
“An amazing husband who loved me and showed me his love every day, and the best son any person could ask for. For me, having Emilio and Rourke was worth losing everyone else. I’ve never regretted my decision. Although from what Jane said, my mother might have. Whatever happens, I don’t just want to do this alone, I need to do this alone. I’ll talk to Rourke about it tonight then first thing tomorrow, I’ll leave.”
“Okay, I don’t like you going alone, but okay.”
Cheryl chuckles. “Careful, dear, you sound just like Rourke. I’m tired. I think I’ll have a nap a little early today. Can you call Patricia to let her know about tomorrow, and for let’s say the next two weeks?”
“I will.” Two weeks...I hope Rourke calls soon, because I’m out of my depth.
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I almost miss the call I was waiting for as I’m swimming, in an effort to work out some of my agitation.
“Hey, I’m so glad you called.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Your mom is talking about going to see her mother who it kind of sounds like is dying, alone.”
“Shit.” He sighs heavily. “I’m not happy but I’m not surprised by it. I also know short of tailing her, she will stick to her guns.”
Huh, we are beginning to sound alike. “There’s no way to talk her out of it?”
“Where her family is concerned she’s immovable, not even my dad could get her to soften on the subject. If she needs us, she’ll ask.”
“Ugh, I hate this. I already feel like I’m failing your mom, and I can’t even do this for her.”
“What? Why in the world do you think you’re failing her? She loves you. I haven’t seen her as happy as she’s been in close to a year.”
“I’m glad, really, to hear it, but what about when I’m gone? I want to know she’ll have something to make her happy. Whether it’s a book club, or a new hobby. I’ve even suggested an animal, which has turned so many of my past patients around, but she’s allergic.” He’s quiet for so long I wonder if the call dropped. “Rourke?”
“Yeah, look, let Mom do what she needs to do. I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.” The call is over before I even know what’s going on. Did he sound mad? He’s never ended a call so abruptly before. I stare at my phone, wishing I could call him back. I’ll talk to him tonight about it.
***
Rourke
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The minute I hang up with Olivia I’m up pacing my office. My chest is churning violently to the point I press my hand against it, trying to get it to stop. I close my eyes, trying to gain control over the turmoil Olivia set off inside me when she talked about the time after she was gone. No. How could she even think like that? She knew, had to know she was mine. I keep what’s mine; she wasn’t going any fucking where.
As I force my breathing to even out, the damn little voice inside tells me I’m being selfish. It was wrong to keep her, to let her love me when she’ll lose me soon. My eyes go to the email I received from my doctor just yesterday. It was simply a follow-up to everything we discussed. If there was something he missed telling me or any further questions I might have, I could simply respond to the email.
He wants me to stop taking the blood pressure medication—the reason for the moments of lightheadedness I’ve been having is because my blood pressure was too low. Then he urged me to keep doing whatever I was doing to keep the pressure down. The only thing different between now and the last time I went to the doctor is Olivia. Okay, I wasn’t working twelve-hour days, or up until all hours of the night, but that was so I could get home to Olivia and fall asleep with her in my arms.
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Remembering yesterday, when I stepped out of the shower and had a moment where I was lightheaded, I shiver from the fear. For a moment everything went still inside me; once could be shrugged off, but this was the second time in a week. My blood ran cold at what it could mean. I broke into a cold sweat. No, not now, not when everything was so fucking perfect. Olivia...I had just found her, I couldn’t lose her so soon.
With trembling hands I dried myself off and fought to control the fear threatening to consume me. Call the doctor—it was all that played over and over in my head as I walked back into our room, hers and mine. She was still asleep, so I picked up the phone and called the doctor. Within minutes I was advised I could come right in, they would fit me in at the beginning of his shift.
For the first time in years I didn’t even think about missing my workout. I dressed in a hurry and sped to the office less than five miles away. The nurse put the blood oxygen reader on my finger and took my blood pressure, then tilted her head even as she wrote down the number, then took it again from my other arm. Fear had the words coming out harshly. “What, what is it?”
Her eyes widened. “Your blood pressure is low. Eighty-five over fifty-seven. Nothing to be too concerned about, especially as you’re on blood pressure medication. The doctor will likely just want to have you stop taking it. Let me get your temp real quick.”
She took my temp, and as she was writing it down my doctor came in. Otis Ward has been my doctor since I came back from Afghanistan. The guy is only eight years older than me and was patient with my concerns. When I asked for all the tests, he shrugged and said he was good to order the tests, he could understand why with my family history. However, like my mother, since everything came back fine he’s been trying to get me to trust in the proof of the tests. I’m perfectly healthy, and there’s nothing in my tests to indicate I couldn’t live well into my nineties.
“Okay, let’s get your A1c like you always want. One minute.” He does the prick, takes the blood then goes to the door and calls for a nurse, who takes it from him. “All right, Rourke, talk to me. You had some lightheaded moments, when did they happen?”
“Both times as I was getting out of the shower.”
“So no intense moments of upset or concern, getting out of the shower only?”
“Yes, it concerned me because it’s happened twice in a week.”
“I get it. Let me take a listen to your heart. Breathe normally for me, there you go.” He keeps the stethoscope in the middle of my chest for a solid minute, then he moves it. “Okay, deep breath.” I follow his instructions. He moves it again. “Another deep breath for me.” Nodding, he looks through my file. “You been doing anything different, upping the intensity of your workout, finally add meditation like I’ve been suggesting, trying out yoga or something?”
Shaking my head, “Nothing different really.” His eyes narrow. “Okay, I have been working less. Actually leaving at normal hours and only up late for important meetings, not just because I feel like I have to work.”
“Okay, well then I’m well aware that you are gung ho for tests and catching things early, but there aren’t too many things low blood pressure on a normal day could be. I’m going to say stop taking your blood pressure medication. I think we could be good going thirty days, but we can do two weeks to see if you need to go back on, as it will take about a week to get out of your system. Check your blood pressure once a day, keep a log, and if it stays low after more than a week give me a call. We can look deeper, but I really think this is just a good thing.”
There’s a knock on the door before the nurse comes back. I’m holding my breath. With all the good things Mom and Olivia were baking, I had given in and eaten sweets several times to make them happy. Only the A1c comes back still very low, only a point up from my last visit. I shake my head. How can it be when I had pieces of cake, cookies, banana bread, things I always considered off-limits? It wasn’t a weekly thing, but maybe every other week. All that sugar, and it only caused a one-point difference.
It wasn’t until Otis clapped me on the back and told me to have a good day that I realized I was fine. I was in perfect health. All the fears I’d had for the appointment were for nothing.
––––––––
As great as the news was, I haven’t yet completely processed it. And now before I have a chance to, Olivia’s talking about when she’s gone.
I fight with the voice in my head. All the other tests came back excellent, from my cholesterol to my A1c. Dad at fifty-two, his father at fifty-three; hell that gave us at least a decade together. Some people never get that long with each other. It would be less than my parents had. The voice called me greedy and selfish: I was sentencing her to a lifetime of sadness. Maybe if she were bubbleheaded and free she’d take it in stride, but no, she was like Mom.
Olivia felt things deeply; they became a part of her soul, imprinted for better or worse. If I took us further, managed to give and put a ring on her finger, give her a child or three...god, I could see her with a little girl giggling with a smile to match her mother and big brown eyes. Stop, if you did it Olivia would be shackled to it all, not free to try and move on and make a new and different life for herself. She was doing the right thing, leaving after the contract was over, and I needed to let her.
Sometimes being cruel to be kind felt like just being cruel.
***
Olivia
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When Rourke gets home he’s quiet, reserved. He’s right about Cheryl’s steadfast refusal for anyone to go with her. She gives in on taking the cell phone she hates, then goes to bed early so she can leave before traffic gets started tomorrow. Once Cheryl goes to bed, Rourke claims he has work to do in the study. I’m trying not to freak out over the way Rourke is acting, but it’s not easy. I can’t get into a book or television so I give up and go for another swim. I’ve gotten out of the habit of swimming at night since I usually spent time in the pool during the day. I also haven’t needed the stress relief as much.
I put my hair in a bun, then put the plastic cap over it to keep it from getting wet. Since Cheryl rarely gets up and I’m too lazy to go looking for the tankini I hate anyway, I strip, then dive into the deep end. To work off my stress I do laps until I’m sore then float for a while, losing track of time as I wonder what is going on with Rourke.
I’m so lost in my thoughts there is no warning before strong arms come around me, pulling me tight against Rourke’s hard body. Oh thank god, is my last thought as his mouth goes down to the place where my shoulder and neck meet. Teeth graze lightly before nipping the skin; velvet soft, his tongue roams over the spot, then he sucks almost as if to soothe but quickly it stings. An arm tightens around me with one hand tugging painfully on an aching nipple, while his other hand teases my slit. I tremble in reaction, in welcome—it’s been weeks since he was rough.
Only I’m wrong: Rourke isn’t rough, he’s savage. His teeth sink deep before he sucks again at the spot. My body’s response is a flood of wet heat, wanting to be owned, to be consumed by him. For me to melt into Rourke until there is nothing between us, until we become one. “Mine,” he growls in my ear. His chest rumbles along my naked back. Words are hard to form; I can only nod as I moan. “Mine.” Feral.
Desperate to placate him, I nod again. “Yours, only yours.” I moan as I try to turn in his arms. He holds me tighter, walking me toward the shallow end. The further we go the less strength my legs have, until I stumble as we attempt to go up the stairs. Rourke’s hold is so tight we fall as one across the second and third stair. I gasp as without breaking his hold, Rourke’s cock slams deep inside me.
His thrusts are fast, furious, fierce, driving me mindless. “Yours, yours,” I murmur again, feeding his need. He moans with every word, and I clench around him deep inside. “Yours,” I whisper. His growl of my name slams into my chest, breaking down every wall, clutching my heart in his hands. My climax plunges me into the depths of a swirling ocean, cutting me away from Rourke, and I cry out my fear. Arms tighten around me as he moans his own climax; the hot, wet result of him coming deep inside me burns into me, tethering me to him as the pleasure becomes gentle waves.
For a long time there are no words. We don’t move. Both of us still on our knees, his arms around me until my arms give out. I whisper an apology. When he pulls out I moan, weepy from the loss of him. Seconds later I’m in his arms, and his mouth comes down on me, sucking deep on my tongue. We stand under the outside shower, letting the water run over us; he doesn’t let me go. As he puts me down on the bed, he follows me down.
This time he makes love to me slowly, sweetly, with such gentle care I blink back tears in my eyes. His mouth comes down on mine as I come. “Mine,” he whispers. “Yours,” I exhale into him. Long after the trembling has died from our bodies, I still don’t let him go, refusing every time he tries to move. It’s how I fall asleep, with him inside me, all around me, every breath I take, the only way I want to fall asleep ever again.