I swear I almost caught his smile as he leaned forward to kiss me, sucking my tongue into his mouth, letting me pull his body against mine. And it hit me with the weight of his delicious body. He was my favorite person. The person who, every time something good happened, I sprinted to share it with.
His fingertips traced my callouses before looping us together. A single heartbeat, a single breath. He had painted the walls of my heart with gray, the colors of his eyes bleeding blue in the center.
My heart was knocking on my brain, and I wanted to shut both down, revel in this moment.
My fingernails dug into the sheets as he kissed every inch of my soul, chasing each press of his lips with his tongue, my back arching off the bed each time he used his teeth. It was more than owning my body, my pleasure; it was giving a name to the feeling stuck in my throat, choking me with the emotion of it.
Love.
We were making love. My heart was swelling and breaking all in the same moment.
He licked a path up my slit before burying his face in my pussy. His beard scratched against my inner lips as he smiled, tasted, and touched every single piece of me, moaning against me as he sucked on my clit, enjoying it just as much as I was.
I was coming apart under him until I was one pulsating emotion. My hips lifted, calling out for him, as I dug my fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp the way he liked.
My heart was shouting, Tell him you love him, you moron!
And I was. Every time I brushed his hair out of his eyes, saw those dumb freckles, felt him sigh because this was frenetic and different, and we both wanted more. The recognition of what this was, it was all I could think about, all I could hold back from crying out as he brought me down from my orgasm, whispering against my skin how good I was, wondering if I could feel his smile.
My legs immediately wrapped around his hips as he settled against me, his beard still wet from how thoroughly he had gone down on me, his erection rocking against my hip. “There’s another rule we could break.” Could he feel my heart beating out of my chest? How badly I wanted him as close as possible, nothing between us?
“Yeah? Tell me Petal.”
“Condoms.”
His finger tracing patterns against my shoulder stopped moving.
“Oh, I mean, not if you don’t want to.”
His hips pushed into mine, our smiles aligning.
“I’ve been tested and I’m on birth control, but if you, uh, don’t want, we, uh … Of course, I mean, let me grab a—” Eloquent as ever, the fluttering of my heart taking over, as I traced the scar on his left thigh.
I reached for his bedside table, but his palm curled around mine until our fingers intertwined. This was more than every other time we had held hands during sex. This was entirely intentional, this was feelings. My heartbeat bursting out of my grip on his, speaking the same language.
I love you, you fucking asshole. I wish I could keep you. I want to keep you. See? I could be romantic.
“I’ve been tested too.” His voice was hesitant, but his fingers were firm as he grasped my hand.
“I’ve never done this before.” My confession tumbled out, betraying my nerves. I traced the line of the scar on his thigh as I waited.
“Me neither.”
“I want to with you. I want to everything with you.”
It was too easy to lean in and capture his lips. To pour out every emotion I had tried to lock away.
A slight grunt as he aligned our bodies together, the head of his dick pressing up against my clit, my breath rushing out, skin flushed. Our gazes met as he teased us both before he put us out of our misery.
“Oh.” My fingers curled around his biceps, sliding to his shoulders, his ass. “Baby,” I hummed. It was like being plugged in, knocked to the next level, the feel of his dick with nothing between us.
He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, eyes concentrating on me, before nipping my skin. “Tell me you want this.”
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, never stop.”
His head buried into my neck, teeth lightly snapping at the juncture of my shoulder, in time with his hips. “Fuck, it’s too good.”
“Yeah?” I grabbed at the back of his scalp, all thought fleeing my mind except how to make this last longer.
“I’m going to die here, freaking happy.” His laugh vibrated against my cheek, shaking both of us, lighting my body with every ounce of his pleasure.
“Not yet.” I bit at his earlobe, and he made another delicious moan as I clenched around him, the wet sounds my body was making almost obscene. “It keeps getting better.”
And it did. He smiled, his beard brushing against my skin, a kiss to my pulse point, and he kept fucking smiling. Because here we were, doing this. Breaking the rules, allowing ourselves this moment.
It was overwhelming, his heartbeat against my chest, the way he begged me not to come, not yet, how he filled me up, nothing in between us, no barriers, not even the pretend ones. This was us, and it was fucking perfect. His thumb pressed to my clit, brushing against where we were joined. My lips pressed to his freckles, touching every inch of skin I could.
And I wanted it.
I wanted to argue about all the movies he hadn’t seen and laugh at the ridiculous quotes he had no reference for. Let him show me a football game when he was ready.
Because it wasn’t a home I needed—just him.
I could picture it as the tears built behind my eyes, my throat clogging, fingers gripping him tight to me to hold on to this moment, to hold on to him as if he was mine to keep. I couldn’t pretend anymore—I didn’t want to leave. He’d left me bare, unable to hide even from myself. This was everything I had been too scared to ever want, and now it was mine to take.
“Petal,” he breathed out, pushing up slightly on his forearms, pressing his lips to mine, dragging his cock out, then thrusting back in, both of us gasping at the heat and throb of it.
It was slow and rough and messy. We were all limbs and teeth, with barely a breath between us. All of him was driving me into the mattress as it built, swirling around my stomach, my fingers tight with it.
With his smile pressed to my skin, my body shuddered and clenched around his, my heart bursting.
Two more strokes and he followed behind me, lacking all form, hips thrusting into mine. My body would be permanently outlined on his bed.
“You okay?” He pressed a kiss to my cheek; another landed on the corner of my eye.
“Mm-hmm.” I couldn’t vocalize what was churning inside of me, the aching pleasure of it. He hadn’t pulled out yet, merely drew me down to lie on top of him. His hands never stopped moving. My hips, my thighs, my back, reaching my cheek, cupped it, thumb caressing.
His words were quiet, pressed to my forehead. “I can’t imagine a world where you don’t walk through my front door.” He toyed with my hair, both of us sticky with sweat.
“Me neither,” I whispered back, holding him tighter.
My body with a road map of him. Of beard burn, red marks from his mouth where he’d sucked and played my body as if it were his favorite instrument as he traced where my suspenders were supposed to be.
Because no matter where we went from here, I’d broken the biggest rule of all.
I’d fallen in love.
For the first time since I had moved into Oliver’s bedroom, I woke up alone, the alarm blaring in my ear. It wasn’t just the sex, though I was still aching—Oliver and I had learned we were big fans of the no-condom rule, but I was rested because I had let my heart decide.
If this had been any other job, I’d be finishing packing, tossing my iPad into my backpack, erasing the final pieces of me from the house. But this time I would be coming back. I’d need to take my miniscule wardrobe for while I was back at Dad’s for my meetings, but after that, the drawers that lay empty in Oliver’s dresser were going to be filled.
As I tied my hair off into a ponytail, my breath caught in my throat. Sitting on Oliver’s bedside table, among all the frames of his family, was the one of me with Sebastian and Finn. But that wasn’t what clogged my chest with emotion. I reached down to pick up the photo of Dad and me, the one that had been damaged months ago. Somehow Oliver had gotten another copy of the picture and put it in a frame that matched the others. My stuff fit in seamlessly with his, our families together.
I practically sprinted down the stairs, humming. Rue was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. With the full kitchen available to them, they had been cooking up a storm, trying out all their new appliances.
“Just on time.” Rue gently pushed me toward the breakfast nook, to sit next to Nick while my gaze searched.
“Ms. Price, perfect. I was thinking of tailoring some more of your outfits, or maybe you wouldn’t mind allowing me to build you a few more pieces or even a full wardrobe. Your clothing choices leave a lot to be desired.” Ambrose was in motion, pulling out the place settings for all of us, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything. I was practically bouncing.
“Not until I teach her how to ride a horse.” Nick glared at Ambrose. “I think you’ll enjoy it now that you have some free time.” She slid a USB stick toward me. “Thought you might like your own version to take with you, for when you get homesick.”
Nerves rattled my veins. “Thank you.”
“You don’t even know what it is.” She rolled her eyes in that perfect way teenagers have as they suffer through dealing with adults. Oh, to be so perfectly jaded and untouched by the world. “It’s Bl8z3. Not the advanced version I’ve been tinkering with, but the Bl8z3 you’re familiar with.”
It was embarrassing that it still took another moment for it all to click into place. “It was you.”
Nick tilted her head, a smile faint on her lips. “Who else would it be?”
“Bl8z3 never told me.” I felt ridiculous for having never figured it out, that I’d given Oliver all the credit for Nick’s brilliance.
Oliver hadn’t merely given them a home; he was giving them the opportunities he had never taken for himself. He’d gifted Nick stables, a place to work on her skills, the opportunity to beta test her genius invention.
“I’m working on Bl8z3, version 2.0. Thinking about entering some contests, maybe get a scholarship or two.” She was humble, as if she would not take over the world one day. Emotion exploded in my chest. I threw my arms around her, barely having to duck down. I felt like I was truly seeing her for the first time.
Nick laughed, shoving me away as Rue set our plates down.
“I have to head back to the city today, to give my final presentation to Mr. Killington to fulfill the contract.” Nick had been helping me with the slides for my PowerPoint. It was on the tip of my tongue to assure them that it was only a visit, I would be coming back, but Oliver was the first person I needed to tell that news to. “Actually, do you know where Oliver is?”
All three exchanged looks before Ambrose spoke, scooting out of the nook so I could slide out. “I think what you’ve been searching for is in the gardens past the library.” As I stood, he puffed his chest out, twisting his mustache until he released a frustrated sigh and pulled me into a hug, albeit a stiff one. “Don’t break his heart.”
Shock froze my reaction as I wrapped my arms around him tightly. “Never,” I promised.
My heartbeat only increased as I almost sprinted through the house. I had my own memories here now. The wallpaper Oliver had helped me restore, the bookcase he’d clutched as he’d kissed me for the first time, the doorway where he always squeezed my fingers, just briefly, before anyone else could see. Somehow I had found my place here, even as I’d taken it apart and put it back together.
Standing outside with pruning shears I had never seen before, bending over a bush of roses, was the person who’d changed me most of all. The sun spilled out behind him, almost acting as a spotlight, catching on every hue of his hair, the pale blue of his T-shirt.
Oliver spun toward me, a rose in his hand. He brushed a kiss across my forehead before tucking the flower around my suspenders. So many of my questions were being answered today.
A giggle had both of us searching for the source. Rue, Ambrose, and Nick were all leaning past the glass door, not even hiding their eagerness to watch. Their buddy comedy routine required some work.
“This is the best part,” Nick said before glancing up at Rue, rolling her eyes, and running into the house.
Rue used an oven mitt to hit Ambrose on top of his head, disheveling his hair, which of course caused him to flee, shouting about being undignified or something.
With a final order of “Don’t fuck this up,” Rue closed the door, at least giving us some semblance of privacy.
I shook out my arms. This was it. I could do this. I loved him and needed to tell him. The words were almost exploding out of me, my heart already his whether he knew it or not. I love you.
“I’m sorry I was gone when you woke up this morning, Petal.” He tweaked my suspenders before smoothing the material, his fingertips stroking.
“I wanted to talk to you.” I gripped his hands, enjoying how they dwarfed mine, kept me secure, safe, wrapped up in him.
“Finally.” He was slightly shaking. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me how things with Eileen Roth went. Did she offer you the job on the spot?” He bit his lip.
Wait, what? “Ms. Roth?” He was the one who’d recommended me to her?
“I reached out because I knew how badly you wanted the job, but she was already aware of you and your work. So I put in a good word, made sure she knew what she’d be missing out on if she didn’t hire you.”
A record scratched, fingernails scraped down a chalkboard.
My heart was melting on the ground around us. Everything that had been on the tip of my tongue to confess—to admit and see if he felt the same way—dried up. He’d known I wanted to do this myself, not earn it because of who I was sleeping with. I wanted a recommendation from Adrian Killington, not his grandson who hadn’t even been the one to hire me. It felt transactional: I’d saved Oliver’s home, he’d gotten me my dream job, and now we could wipe our hands of each other. But that wasn’t what it was between us.
Why had he done the one thing that would assure I would leave? Unless … that was what he wanted? It made this easier for him.
His eyes searched mine, brimming with happiness, with hope. My heart warred with the anger that he had interceded, not trusting me to accomplish this myself. I blew out a breath to try to see through the emotion clouding everything.
“I couldn’t stop myself. If I could help make your dreams come true, I had to.”
He’d reached out to Ms. Roth. The job, the Bib—they were in the city. Six long hours away from him and the estate. But I shoved the rising panic back down—he hadn’t known I was thinking of staying. This didn’t mean he was pushing me out the door, right? That all of this was temporary to him.
No, I refused to believe that last night, as we’d fallen asleep, would be the last time he ever kissed me, the last time we ever made love. All the things that scared me, the relationship things, they were all I wanted with him now. To wake up in the middle of the night and confess my fears and my dreams to him. To hold his hand through family events, let him know I was always on his side, in public, any time we wanted. I wanted to experience my life with him, to know that no matter where my career took me, I always had a home with him.
I opened my mouth, ready to risk it all.
But then he said, “My sister called: that’s why I got up early. I guess my grandfather is screwing her on this project she’s been working on for months.” Oliver released my hands, leaving me cold and alone. “She was asking me for help, and she needs me, Bell.” His voice sounded like one huge apology.
“You’re taking the job? You’re saying yes,” I finished for him.
“It’s my family. I owe them, especially my sisters, what with how long I’ve been gone. I can’t …” His gray eyes searched mine, maybe for absolution or to make this easier for him. I could do this, bear it for a bit longer. While my heart shattered like a pane of glass.
I nodded. “You’re getting everything you wanted. Your family is back, and your grandfather will give you the deed to this place.” I waved vaguely at the estate. “We’re both getting everything we wanted.” I strained to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
Back in March, if you had told me this would be the end result, I’d have been thrilled—for both of us. Our dreams were coming true, and I was genuinely happy that his sisters were trying, welcoming him back. But as I stood there on a warm day in August, it all felt empty, like it wasn’t enough. I’d known that the paths of our lives were going to diverge, and here it was.
“Everything, yeah …” Oliver shoved his fists back into his pockets, shoulders raised.
We stood in the heartbeat, the final breath. This was the end. I knew this feeling well—my happiness came in spurts of time, never this long, continuous thing. I’d been part of this phase of his life, and now he was moving on to bigger and better.
“We said we’d figure this out once the mansion was finished, and I guess this is us figuring it out.” It was impossible to swallow the lump in my throat. “Your sisters are lucky to have you.”
He was taking the job, the one he hadn’t wanted. Self-sacrificing asshole. But I couldn’t stop him, not when he had so much to gain. Not when he was standing here telling me that this was what he wanted.
We were both being cowards: me, unable to tell him how I felt, and him not having the guts to tell me that it was over. It was all there, shining in his eyes: pride, affection, and the cloudiness of his belief that somehow, I wasn’t a fit for him.
What would be the point in pouring out my heart when he had already decided?
“I should get going.” I had tears to weep. His nose wrinkled, arm stretching as if he was going to hold my hand. But I stepped away, not allowing him to see me break.
We stood there, surrounded by beauty, as our final moment crumbled around us. The sun rose over Oliver’s head, forcing me to shield my eyes, no longer able to see him clearly.
Maybe I never had.