“You don’t have to,” I rushed out.
“I would be honored.” His voice was low.
“Honored, huh? Did that hurt coming out?” This was having the opposite of the intended effect. I was wide awake, wanting him to keep talking, continue sharing that grumpy snark that was becoming a vital part of my day.
“I’m trying out this compliment thing. Figured I’d practice on you.”
“You must enjoy practicing on me.” I instantly winced at the memory of us in this bed. Practice for his future relationship with someone who wasn’t me.
“Hmm.”
His noncommitment was worse when I couldn’t see his face, check if he was being sincere.
“Well, not that it matters, but I think you’d make a great website designer. Maybe you can show me some of your work.”
“Really?”
I wanted to get rid of his surprise. But I also couldn’t stop being me. “Yeah, you have excellent people skills.”
He snorted. “I like to believe I’m getting better, Petal.”
“Maybe.” I was glad my smile was hidden. It meant a lot, him opening up to me, admitting this truth, this selfish thing. “You could use your new skills to reach out to your sisters?”
“They don’t want to hear from me.” His clipped tone declared the topic was closed.
“You read minds now?” I sat on my hands so I wouldn’t go wrap my arms around him.
“I abandoned them when our parents died. Instead, our grandfather took custody of them. My parents would have been so disappointed.” Emotion punctuated his words. The guilt he carried swelled in the room.
“You were, what, twenty-two-years old, recovering, and a trauma survivor?” My question was rhetorical. “Sounds like you did what was best for everyone.”
He grunted.
“Have you talked about it with them?” I wasn’t sure why it mattered to me, but it did. I wanted some sort of insurance he wouldn’t go back to his reclusive ways when the project was over.
“They don’t want to hear from me—it’s been eight years. There have been birthday cards, small things, but …” The couch creaked. “Maybe it’s time.” A kernel of hope grew. “It’s your turn, Petal.”
“Turn for what?” I smashed my fist into the pillow, folding it in half, but nothing worked to make it less flat.
“I want to hear about this dream job of yours.”
“Oh, you’re not sick of hearing me talk about my job?”
He let out a growl of frustration. “Why do I have a feeling I need to kick someone’s ass?”
I clutched his pillow to my chest, tempted to tell him. Sharing was easier in the dark.
“Tell me about the book you’re reading, then.”
About the library sex that was to erupt onto the page. That was a hard nope.
“Petal.” His voice sounded closer, but it was impossible to tell in the dark. “I want to hear about the job, I promise.”
“If you start snoring …”
“I won’t.”
“Fine.” I smoothed the sheets. “You know the Bib?”
“The museum?” he asked.
“Yeah. They specialize in antiques, lifestyle. Showing how people in the past lived. Rooms that resemble a thirteenth-century African hut, an igloo from Greenland. The first floor rotates every six months: a cabin from the Titanic, the bedroom of Louis XIV’s mistress.”
He gave a sound almost as if he was interested. “You’d design historical rooms?”
“Yeah.” The Bib was my favorite spot in the city. It was a combination of all the things I loved about my work, all in one place.
“It sounds perfect for you.”
My face flushed. “It’s prestigious. They never advertise openings because they know who they want to hire. It’s all about networking and having your name out there.”
“There’s no way you aren’t on their radar.”
I wished I had something to throw at him. “Whatever. Dad’s theory is that me taking on this project myself will be big enough to get me noticed.”
“And you want it?” Oliver asked.
“Yeah …” Something made me complete the thought. “It would mean not having to move around with every job. Settle down, have roots, stability.”
“That’s what you want?” he repeated.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s a pipe dream.”
“Humor me. If you were offered, would you accept the position?”
“Yeah. I’d also love a pot of gold from the end of a rainbow, a few wishes from a genie, and eternal youth.”
“Smart-ass.”
I yawned, snuggling in.
“You deserve the world, Petal,” he whispered.
69 Days Until the Deadline
If this deadline doesn’t kill me, the horniness will.
47 Days Until the Deadline
“Good morning.”
I choked on my coffee as Oliver strolled by, straight onto the patio that led to the backyard. Each and every shade of his black hair somehow highlighted despite the cloudy sky. He’d seemed to adapt more and more to having his home invaded by workers. Every day he jumped onto a new assignment, trying.
Me? Oh, I was getting more sexually frustrated by the day. One of these days I’d wake up humping his mattress, and it would be all his fault. He hadn’t put a hand on me, tried to touch me, or done anything since that fateful night. Instead, we lay there, me on his sheets that never lost his scent despite how often Ambrose washed them, and him on the couch. Talking about what he missed about his sisters, dumb things I’d done with Sebastian in college before he started dating Finn, what movies he had seen, and how he hadn’t watched a football game since his accident.
Talking, always just talking.
At least I had work to distract me. “Hey, Jeff.” I waved as I stepped outside.
“Bellamy, another beautiful day, huh?”
Was everyone being dosed with something? “I guess. I wanted to talk to you about—”
“Yeah, give me a minute.”
Jeff strode with purpose, heading straight for Oliver, who was sanding a bedroom door before it was repainted. At some point over the past few weeks, Jeff had developed a not-so-subtle crush on Oliver.
Today’s list had me headed toward the furniture tent, which meant I had to go in the general direction of Jeff and his flirty eyes.
“I was impressed yesterday. I saw you lifting those wood planks.” Jeff flexed his bicep to emphasize his point, and I held in my scoff.
“Oh.” Oliver’s gaze dropped. “Just doing my part.”
“We rarely have homeowners willing to help. Your support of the project is appreciated. Though, here, let me—you want to go with the grain.” Jeff placed his palm next to Oliver’s, gliding it over the wood. How very helpful of him.
Oliver wiggled away, running his fingers through his hair, seeming to forget it was tied up. “Oh, it’s nothing.” His gaze jumped from Jeff to me.
“It’s not.” Jeff’s smile grew, and he winked at me. “The owners aren’t usually so attractive either.”
It was for the best that there were no sharp power tools in my possession.
“We’re working pretty long days,” he began, “but I was wondering if you would want to—”
I didn’t need to hear the rest. The lean of Jeff’s head implied what was about to happen. They were two consenting adults.
Jeff’s laughter trailed me, and I power walked, trying to nonchalantly wave at the gardening team. It may have come off as aggressive, but they knew what I meant.
I liked him. That stupid man, with his stupid beard, his stupid hair that he tied up during the day and released at night to hang over his shoulders. How like clockwork at lunchtime he’d appear to make sure I ate. I hated that I liked him, because nothing could come of it, primarily because he didn’t feel the same way. Which was for the best. I wanted to leave here with no entanglements, only a recommendation and a step toward my future.
But it didn’t mean I needed to watch him fall for someone else.
A single crash of thunder shook the earth, and the sky opened up. The irony was not lost on me. A storm hadn’t been in the forecast, but who could trust a weatherman?
“Come on.” Oliver grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the stables, and we took off at a run, my heart caught in my throat.
We breathed heavily as we sprinted through the stable doors, soaked to the bone. My hair was plastered to my head, and Oliver’s was the same, both of us sopping wet.
I tracked the water droplets that dripped over his body, his neck, and down the bridge of his nose, falling off his eyelashes as he wiped his face with his enormous hand. He was beautiful. His determination, his strength, every single thing down to the stubborn set of his shoulders and the T-shirt plastered to his skin making my heart race more than the run had.
“It’s just a quick summer rainstorm,” I said, hoping aloud as I glanced at the sky, covered in storm clouds. Being stuck in close proximity to him was the last thing I needed; every night was torturous enough. The daytime was my reprieve.
“Well, we’re stuck here until it’s over.”
“Splendid.” Exactly what I wanted, to be trapped here with him. If only I had been closer to the furniture tent, I could be productive instead of trembling, dripping water everywhere.
The horses stamped in their stalls as I paced, my body needing something to get this energy out.
“A bit testy today?”
I whipped around. The wet pieces of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail smacked me in my face as I glared at him.
“Something bothering you?” The arch of his eyebrow screamed he had his suspicions.
I shoved my hair back into a messy knot and resumed my pacing, ignoring him. The storm would be over soon, and then I could get back to work and away from him.
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with my conversation with Jeff?”
My voice rose about twelve octaves. “Zero idea what you’re talking about.”
“You were staring.” There was a hint of a laugh in his voice, making me want to scream. He was so smug. “We’re friends, right?”
I spun and crossed my arms, hating the way my shirt and suspenders were pasted to my body, revealing every curve. “What else would we be?”
“Good, because I need advice.” Probably for his upcoming date with Jeff.
“About what?” I stepped farther into the stables. Maybe there was a task in here that required renovation—something that wouldn’t get me in trouble with Nick for botching it.
“So, I have this friend …” His eyes twinkled.
I called bullshit. “You suddenly have quite a few new friends.”
His eyebrow raised. “Can I go back to my issue?”
I leaned against the far wall, the panels of wood catching against my suspenders as I gestured for him to continue.
“Thank you. So, I have this friend. Let’s call her Nettle.”
“Mr. Popularity, you have two new friends, Petal and Nettle.” Honestly. “Ambrose is going to be jealous.”
“Nettle is a bit prickly. Likes to be all friendly and bright on the outside, but deep down they are—”
“Watch yourself.” I narrowed my eyes at him, rain pounding the roof, the storm not giving any sign of letting up anytime soon.
“Complicated.”
I crossed my arms, feigning patience, not like I had anything else to do. The air had that clean scent that only comes with rain, which overpowered, somewhat, the stench of horse.
“As I said before I was so rudely interrupted, I have this problem.” Oliver stepped closer. “I have an … attraction. Hmm. That’s not a strong enough word.” He closed his eyes for a minute, thumb brushing against his lip. “I hunger for them.”
“Oh?” My thighs rubbed together, and I pressed my arms to my chest. “That must be inconvenient,” I squeaked. I could not let this get away from me. “Probably not something you should mention to Jeff on your date.”
“Jeff did, in fact, ask me out.” His eyes dilated, reminding me what a jealous thing I was.
“Ah.” Banging my head against the wall right now wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Want to know what I said?”
Yes. “That’s between you and Jeff.”
“Do you think Nettle would care?”
“Maybe you should ask her.”
He smirked, and I hated how much I liked it. How I wanted to trace my fingers along his soft lips, push them all the way up into the smile that shone in his gaze.
“Well, if I was talking to Nettle, I would tell her I said no thanks to Jeff.”
“Oh.” My heart gave a flutter of relief.
“Yeah, oh.” His voice dropped an octave.
“Nettle might enjoy being told. You know, depending on who Nettle is and their feelings about you.” My fingers curled into fists to stop the impulse to touch him, to feel the heat of skin beneath my palms, to press my thighs to his and kiss along his collarbone—anything.
Another step. “So, my problem is, when I’m with Nettle, all I can think about is kissing her. Every inch of her perfect skin.” His voice dripped with the same desire currently choking me. “Suck, nibble, hear the moans she lets out, feel her fingers scratching along my back.”
I trembled as the temperature in the barn seemed to rise. “That sounds, uh, difficult.”
“So, what should I do?” Another step, his eyes searing my skin with delicious heat.
I pressed my palm to my pounding heart. “Sounds like a real conundrum.”
With every step he took, I pushed myself further against the barn wall, but it refused to yield. There was no escape, and all the reasons I should run were being washed away with the storm.
“I dream about how she tastes.” He growled out the words, sending a thrill down to my toes.
“Oh.” My voice betrayed the excitement in my chest, buzzing down, down …
“Her lips. They were—” He flexed his fingers, and my thighs parted in anticipation. “All of her is so soft. I wonder what sounds she’d make if I touched the rest of her.” His voice was dripping with the same hunger coursing through my veins. “It keeps me up at night.”
Maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling. “The dream might be better than real life.” My shaking voice betrayed my nerves.
“Impossible.” He placed his palms against the wood on either side of me, face tilted toward mine. His eyes traced along my features, leaving me tingling. I licked my lips, my gaze exploring the small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the drops of water that clung to his eyelashes.
A breath separated us. All I’d have to do was lift on my tiptoes, and his mouth would meet mine.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Petal.” His jaw clenched.
“I kind of hate Nettle.” The words were out before I could stop them. Because it was there, the nagging, illogical worry that he was thinking about someone else, even as his eyes burned into mine, teeth biting his lower lip in the way I was desperate to.
“Petal, it’s you. Only you.” His tongue dipped out, licking his lower lip. Any reason not to kiss him fled me.
Our mouths met, and I was lost. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, and I stood on my tiptoes to bring him closer. He was right. It was better than every memory and dream I’d had since that night in his bed.
His tongue brushed my lip before he took me in another bruising kiss. I almost climbed him like a tree, fingers tracing down his spine, to grab at his ass.
We both let out a combined moan, a rush of relief, as his erection pressed against my center.
“Fucking suspenders.” His hand slid down the elastic, separating it from my body for a moment before releasing it to lightly snap back against my nipple. My moan this time was louder as he did it again on the other side, his eyes lighting in excitement at my reaction.
We were all groping, teeth nipping, as he continued to play with my suspenders, play with me, our wet clothes making it difficult, but I didn’t care. It was a relief to let go, to admit that this was what I had been craving—him.
“Can I take this off?” His hands rested at the edge of my T-shirt, and I yanked it off to get it out of his way.
It took a couple tries for the clasp of my bra to release for him, leaving me in only my shorts and my suspenders. Oliver sucked in a breath, that made me clench. “Is it possible to have a suspenders kink?”
He didn’t give me a moment to respond before kissing me again, sucking on my tongue, smooth palms molded over my breasts, thumbs brushing across my nipples. It had been one thing to hear him talk about touching me, but the way he caressed me, everything inside me screamed, More, more, more.
There was a slight shake to his fingers as he popped open the button of my shorts, taking his time sliding the zipper down until his hand was in my underwear. I gasped against his mouth, somehow shifting the restlessness that had been burning into something new, something demanding, hungry.
“Better than my dream,” he said against my lips as his fingers slid, trailed against the crease of my thigh before dipping in, discovering how wet and aching I was for him. I sank my face into his shoulder, not even embarrassed with how badly I wanted this, wanted him.
“Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself, thinking of this exact moment, while you’re in the shower every night?” One finger, then two. He started to finger fuck me, growling out the words as I clenched around him.
“Why do you think I take such long showers?” I mumbled against his skin, gripping at his T-shirt. Every part of my body was alive, as if he were touching me everywhere at once.
And then he said: “Should I fuck you like this?”