Barely even friends, p.22
Barely Even Friends, page 22
“Please.” Another breath. “Baby.”
He bit down on my shoulder. “I guess we figured out how to make you agreeable.”
“Such an—” I hissed as his hand returned to my clit. “Still not going to say it.”
“I’ll tell you a secret.” His lips pressed against my ear, my gasp coming out louder, pulse pounding, even though his rhythm hadn’t changed. “I like it when you call me ‘asshole.’”
“Not a secret.” I pursed my lips, reaching down, my thumb brushing his slit, swirling along the head of his cock.
“What did I say about cheating?”
“This is too good. I can’t remember.”
His heavy thigh held my body to his, using me as if he were inside me, and despite the aching emptiness, I liked it. I liked it a lot. All of him aligned against all of me. The infinite ways we could bring each other pleasure.
“You are temptation itself. I’m barely touching you, barely moving, and you love it. Say it.” He demanded, lips pressed to my ear. “Say it again.”
“Please. Baby.”
“Mine, tell me you’re mine.”
“Just like you’re mine, you asshole.”
This time it was his orgasm that triggered mine, spurting over my hand, soaking the sheets as I squirmed, biting down hard on the pillow.
It let me hide my face as he whispered in my ear how badly he wanted to keep me.
* * *
39 Days Until the Deadline
It was a heady thing, spending a whole day with Oliver. Being the center of his attention. Sharing stories, dozing on each other, we built our own little bubble.
The morning of our first day back to work, there was no pretending this time, no hiding. The condom wrappers alone that we needed to pick up before Ambrose came up here to make the bed (he insisted I never did it right) made it impossible.
I glanced down, double-checking that the beard burn on my thighs was covered by my shorts. Oliver stepped in front of me, insisting he help me with my suspenders, a smirk on his face the entire time, both of us remembering what he had done with the pair that was lying by the bed, ruined.
His hands were in my shorts’ pockets, squeezing my ass, and I had to say something. Because the fear had returned—what would happen when we stepped out that door? “We have to remain professional.” My nails were scratching up and down his naked chest, so it wasn’t exactly clear who that remark was aimed at, me or him.
He quirked an eyebrow at me, and I wanted to feel my lips against his beard again.
“No touching.” I pulled away, fingers hungry.
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
I twisted my neck, as one of us still had hands on the other’s ass, and it wasn’t me.
He changed tactics. “Is there room for this to be negotiated? This place has a lot of closets.”
“Nope. The crew should be here any minute. It’s time for me to get downstairs, make sure everyone has their to-do lists.”
“The world would fall apart without those lists.” He still hadn’t removed his hands, and I hadn’t stepped away. “And it would fall apart if they saw me touch you?” There was that vulnerability in his voice again. I didn’t have the answers, didn’t have room to explore them—not with everything else waiting for us. How much we both needed this project to succeed.
“Yes,” I squeaked.
“Petal, if this is about what you said about not being a forever kind of person—”
“No.” I crossed my arms. “This is about them taking me seriously. This is my first contract without my father. I don’t want them thinking I got it or that any success will be because I was providing services to the Killington heir on the side.” Even with my clothes on, I felt naked before him. “You promised you understood.”
Oliver sobered, gently removing his hands, smoothing my hair back. “The only world that exists to me is the one that sees how brilliant you are.”
My foot kicked his, chin resting on my chest, trying to disguise my pleasure. “Careful with the compliments there.”
“I’ll banish you later.”
“Good.”
I pecked him quickly on the lips, my body desperate not to leave. Anything more and I was liable to get naked again and end up underneath my favorite weighted blanket of a human. Talk, sleep, memorize his skin, see if I could make him smile. Only I knew the shape of his mouth, the way his cheeks rose on the side when our lips were pressed together.
But reality came knocking in the form of Jeff and the crew. Even Cousin Carter stopped by, trying to get Oliver to spill Killington secrets, having heard the same rumors that Sebastian had about the company, that it was diversifying in an attempt to lift the stock price.
Oliver kept to his promise, keeping things professional during the daytime. Even though it was beyond tempting every time I laid eyes on him to yank him into a closet, touch his hand, or seek him out despite the millions of things I had to do. And at night, when we were alone in his room, in his bed, color swatches surrounded me on the sheets until he told me to give myself a break, let him take care of me.
Each moment was better than the last.
But every whispered secret, every kiss, brought us closer to the moment when we’d both have to leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
16 Days Until the Deadline
There were many aspects of older homes I found charming. The decorative touches, old-fashioned appliances, the number of completely unnecessary rooms for people to sit uncomfortably on couches. Don’t get me started on the magic of a secret passage.
But fireplaces … I couldn’t say much for those, other than appreciating a cozy fire every once in a while.
Yet here I was. Scrubbing.
“I thought the fireplace guys were coming today?” Oliver was crouched, peering at me as I squatted in one of the too many fireplaces in the estate. The current bane of my existence.
“Tomorrow. Their last job was on the other side of the country.” I sounded annoyed because I was, in fact, annoyed. This team was the best, which was why it was so difficult to get on their schedule—that was the only reason I’d agreed to this schedule so close to our deadline. They had fit us in between two jobs. But they still had to finish the first.
“But the furniture arrives tomorrow.”
Including the fireplace grates. “Correct.” Didn’t he have somewhere to be?
“This place will be perfect even if the fireplaces aren’t working yet.” His tone was soothing, but it was having the opposite effect on me. I knew what he was attempting to accomplish, but obsessing over the mansion and my deadline stopped me from fixating over other things. Like how we had been sharing a bed for a few weeks, and it had been the best time of my life.
His gaze concentrated on me. “I know this is scary. It’s scary for me too.”
“I’m not scared.” I was determined, calm. I’d even give him stubborn. But not scared.
“Talk to me. Take thirty seconds and talk to me.”
“I don’t have time right now.” It was simpler that way, to keep scrubbing until my fingers felt like they were going to bleed, the soot so thick it made my eyes water, my nose stuffed up.
“There’s always time if it means you won’t have soot-covered lungs.” He passed me a water bottle.
“Fine. Thirty seconds.” I took a gulp, finishing more than half before passing it back.
“Better?” His tone was full of concern.
“Maybe.”
“What’s wrong?” The vulnerable wobble in his voice made me pause.
“My dad called. He wanted to discuss next projects.” I took another swig of the water, my throat still too dry. Dad’s call was normal—usually we’d already have something lined up by now. Give ourselves maybe two weeks before we were on to the next.
“Oh.” Oliver let out a shaky chuckle, gripping the back of his neck. “What did you say?”
I shook my head. “Told him I had to think about it.” This should be an exciting time—my career was taking off. Instead, I was off-kilter.
“Because of us?” He was getting just as dirty sitting in the chimney with me as I fiddled with the water bottle cap.
“I—” He reached for my hand, and I yanked it away, wincing. “You promised.”
“We break that rule all the time.”
“No, we don’t.” I scrubbed harder. Each layer revealed more dirt.
“Yes, we do.”
“When?”
“In bed last night.” His voice burned through me, calling up memories, forcing me to close my eyes until I could get my erratic heartbeat under control.
Last night, he had intertwined my fingers with his, pushing our hands up against the headboard as he thrust inside of me, his eyes never leaving mine. But that didn’t count. Sex hand-holding wasn’t real hand-holding. Even if all my blood had rushed to my wrists as his thumb brushed along there.
“Well, we don’t during the day.” My protest sounded weak even to my ears.
“I thought it was because I was respecting your boundaries.”
“Yes, boundaries are good. They make things defined.” It was easier to operate in black and white. Nothing blurred. Blurred created this feeling in my stomach. Blurred involved me staring off in a daydream. Blurred made me wonder if something could truly happen between us after the repairs on the estate were finished. What were we going to be once I no longer was staying here, no longer in his bed every night? He hadn’t given me any hints as to what he planned to do at the end of the summer, whether he was going to accept his grandfather’s demands or explore an unknown future.
“And that’s how things are between us? Clear?” He grimaced, displeased with his own word choice.
I had zero experience in being a person with a relationship and a career. I was so close to my goal, I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted, or to be a distraction when he had his own life-changing choices to make. “What’s with all the questions today?”
He saw right through my bullshit. “We sleep in the same bed every night, we have sex, we talk. I’ve told you things I’ve never shared with anyone else. I know you’ve done the same.” He scooted closer. “This means something to me. You mean something to me.”
I gulped. “You mean something to me too.”
“But?”
“But I’m terrified.” I confessed, wringing my hands. “I’m overwhelmed that we’re not going to finish on time. I’m overwhelmed by my feelings for you. I lo— like you a lot. But we’re both leaving.”
With a single nudge, he had prodded everything that had been swirling around inside of me to come pouring out. Everything I had battened down and tried to ignore. What use was it to think about it? I needed to push through. There was too much out of my control. But I could clean this fireplace.
He scooted until he was sitting next to me in the filthy chimney, the space tight enough that we were shoved up against each other, not that I minded.
He cupped my face, thumb brushing against my cheek, which had to be covered in soot. “I believe in you. We keep doing this, and when it comes time, we’ll figure it out—no pressure, no rush, okay?” My fingers met his.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Will you tell me why you doubt your ability to be in a relationship?” Of course he had been paying attention and realized there was another layer.
I trusted him; it was my heart I didn’t trust. “The project I was working on over a year ago now. His name was Dan, and we … well, I thought we … connected. He worked on-site too, and—well, you get the idea.”
His narrowed eyes conveyed he did, lips softly brushing against my forehead.
“I had assumed it would last, but he made it clear it was a short-term thing for him. He’d never even considered it being something more.” I shrugged, my shoulder knocking into his. “My profession, my personality, everything about me screamed to him it was casual. I’m not the forever girl.”
He shook his head, snorting, ignoring my soot-stained clothing, and hauling me closer by my suspender. “Thank you for sharing with me.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around my back, drawing me into the comfort, the warmth his body offered.
“I dismissed change for a long time. I’m a mess. But you, my Petal, are someone who deserves to have the world set at your feet. Your every dream coming true.”
Tears welled in my eyes, my fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt, overwhelmed by his words, by him.
“And if at any point you change your mind or don’t want to do this anymore, promise you’ll say so.”
“Don’t you mean both of us?” I brushed my nose against his, liking how I left a mark behind. Mine, mine, mine.
“No chance of that.”
“So smug.”
“Confident, Petal.”
“Yeah?”
“Confident in you, too. The woman I met a couple months ago wouldn’t have dropped everything to help me pack up my family’s section of the house. She definitely wouldn’t have taken advantage of a day off to let me explore every inch of her body.”
I blushed, unable to contradict him.
“She would have told me to shove it. Clearly, meeting me has made you a better person.” The chuckle he released vibrated through me. The man I’d first met wouldn’t have laughed to save his life.
“But I would have felt bad after I did it.”
He tilted my chin. “You know this is the room where we met?”
I picked my head up, glancing around, realizing he was right. The wainscotting had been fixed, same with the hardwood floor. The room was entirely empty of any furniture, but just like this room, we had come a long way. “You mean the room you first banished me in?”
“I remember it being much more romantic than that.” His nose wrinkled in that cute way of his. “We got this, Petal. We’re the icing. But it’s okay to ask for help.”
I gave a brisk nod, wanting to hug him, kiss him, bring him upstairs, lock the door and never leave.
The more comfort he offered, the more my body eased into his. A memory of its own, fitting into all the grooves and nooks that I wanted to call my own. The shoulder I leaned on when we made it through the end of Lord of the Rings, and he asked to check out the sequel. The hip that bumped mine when a magazine reached out to interview me as an “Under 30” to watch. The hand I held every chance I got, and he knew it. The lips that kissed away every single one of my tears. Somewhere along the way he’d burrowed himself under my skin.
After a lifetime of having it ingrained in me to always answer no when asked, I tried something new. “I could use some help, yeah.”
And the world didn’t end. He didn’t look at me any differently.
He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine, smiling. “All you have to do is ask.”
“That’s hard to do,” I grumbled, snuggling further against his soft cotton shirt.
“I know.” His lips brushed my forehead. “But someone really stubborn taught me it’s okay to not be so alone all the time.”
“Sounds like someone really smart.”
“Brilliant. Devastatingly gorgeous.”
I snorted. “We’re not having sex in a chimney.”
“And you think I’m depraved.”
I breathed him in, giving myself this for a minute. “If we’re going to knock everything off the lists, we need all hands on deck.”
“You figure out what has to be accomplished. I’ll worry about the additional hands. My grandfather wants to show off. Even he realizes you’re going to slam this one out of the park.” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice.
It was time to get me out of the hot seat. “How are you doing with your own choice?”
“It’s hard, but I’m embarrassed to say it’s hard because if I don’t take it, I’m not sure what else to do with my life.”
“Can you still be involved in the company, but not in a way that puts you in the public eye? I don’t enjoy picturing you miserable unless I’m the one making you that way.” He had spent too long in his grief, not allowing any joy into his life, believing he didn’t deserve it. I could ease things with his grandfather by completing the estate, but I couldn’t fix this for him, as much as I wanted to.
“It might be possible for me to offer him something else.” He appeared lost in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Petal, you make me angry, not miserable.”
“A significant distinction.” I snorted, but I was hopeful he wasn’t resigned to his fate.
“A very important distinction. No one gets under my skin like you do.” His words burned with something.
“I do like being under you,” I murmured, before scanning the room. Our thirty seconds had long passed. Any minute we were likely to be interrupted by someone searching for one of us.
“Careful, Petal, it’s not nice to tease a man with what he can’t have,” he growled, my stomach flipping and tumbling in anticipation.
“Delayed gratification, baby.”
He grunted, and my grin only got bigger.
But I couldn’t send him away—not yet. “What do you want? What do you picture when you dream at night?”
“Impossible things.”
“With that trust fund, I’m positive most things are possible.”
He reached for my hand, tracing along the lines of my palm. “It’s not something you can buy.”
It was silly. There were a million things he could be talking about, and none of them had to be me. “Shoot for the stars.”
“Yeah?” Was that hope in his voice?
“Yeah. What do you have to lose?”
He scrubbed his knuckles against his jaw, the sound making my skin hum with memories. After a moment he said, “I should let you get back to work.”
I kissed his cheek before shifting out of his lap, reluctant to release him. Every second that drew us closer to the deadline drew us closer to goodbye.
There was no missing the mischievous look in his eyes, his lips making contact with mine too briefly before he stood up, swiping his palms together and mostly producing a mess with all the soot that now covered both of us.
