Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
EMILY
Ipull him closer, and suddenly the green icing on his hideous sweater is lighting up the shadows, throbbing in time with each eager beat of my heart.
We shouldn’t do this.
At least not without having a serious talk.
I have no idea what he wants, what I want. Or how this could possibly work with all the obstacles between us. But God, his lips taste even better than I remember. Like punch and holiday magic and Olly, this kind, clever man who is so much more than a “spare.”
“Every time the tabloids call you ‘the spare,’ I want to punch someone,” I confess as his fingers curl around the back of my neck.
“Why?” His thumb presses that spot below my ear, the one that sends shivers all the way down my spine.
“Because it’s mean.” I nip at his lower lip. “You’re not a spare, you’re a person. You’re…Olly.”
He hums low in his throat, kissing me harder before whispering against my lips, “I love it when you call me Olly. It makes me happy and hard, all at the same time.” He shifts his hips, proving he isn’t lying.
I do make him hard.
And he makes me want like I’ve never wanted a man before.
But we’re technically in public—in a room with glass walls, no less.
“What if someone sees? There could be paparazzi outside,” I breathe against his mouth. But when he backs me against his Great-Great-Whatever Aunt’s potting bench, I put up exactly zero resistance.
“They can’t trespass on private property.” His tongue spars deliciously with mine before he adds, “But that doesn’t mean someone from the party couldn’t walk in at any minute. This shows a staggering lack of judgment.”
“It does. We should—” I break off with a shudder as he grips my ass in both big hands. “We should really…” He pulls me tight to his erection, making my breath catch on a moan. “I wouldn’t want to…” His kisses my neck, my jaw, his breath coming faster as my head spins. “What about the rules?”
“Fuck the rules,” he says, the roughness in his voice making me even hotter.
Which makes me kiss him harder.
Which makes him grind closer.
Which makes me forget why we were doing all this stupid talking in the first place.
Before I know it, my zipper is down. My bodice sags forward and my pulse spikes with a heady combination of panic and arousal—I don’t want to get caught in flagrante delicto by his family or friends—but I also really don’t want him to stop undressing me.
Still, I’m about to insist we find somewhere more private, I really am.
Then, he tugs my dress down around my waist, baring my breasts to the humid air as he murmurs, “So fucking beautiful, Em,” and all capacity for rational thought flies out the window.
He sucks my nipple deep, and I cry out, fingers tangling in his hair as I arch closer to his wicked, wonderful mouth. He hums appreciatively against my skin as he squeezes my other breast, holding me prisoner as his thumb flicks back and forth across the sensitive peak until my knees give.
But he doesn’t let me fall. He braces us both against the bench as he gathers handfuls of my dress in his fists, drawing my skirt higher on my thighs.
The hard wood digs into my back, but I barely feel it. I’m too focused on the scrape of his teeth, the pressure of his hips, the heat rolling off him as he frees my legs.
“Need you, Red, need you so fucking badly,” he says, hooking a hand behind my knee and guiding my leg around his waist as he thrusts forward.
Suddenly, I’m tipped open, rocking against him as he grinds between my legs, shamelessly rubbing on him through our clothes like a teenager until the room starts to spin.
I bite his shoulder through his ridiculous sweater, smothering a cry as his fingers slip into my panties. “Fuck, Emily.” He groans as he strokes through my swollen folds. “You’re killing me. So sexy, the sexiest thing I—”
“Inside me,” I beg, fumbling at the top of his pants. “Inside me, please.”
“I don’t have a condom, I—”
“I’m on the pill, and I trust you,” I cut in, shoving his pants down. “I don’t want you to stop. Please, Olly, don’t stop. I need you so much, it hurts.”
“Never want to hurt you, love,” he says as he pulls my panties to the side, clearing the way. “Never.”
I reach for the top of his boxer-briefs, hands literally shaking, I’m so desperate to free his cock.
But before I can curl my fingers around the fabric—
I hear it.
A soft, questioning whimper from just a foot away…
Olly and I both freeze—me with my breasts out for show and tell; him with his pants around his knees—a scandalous tableau certain to traumatize innocent eyeballs.
If Nuggy’s awake.
But surely, she isn’t.
She was sleeping like the sleepiest puppy in Puppytown.
Slowly, we turn our heads in unison to find that Princess Fluffy Nugget is indeed awake, her tiny head tilted at an angle that seems to demand to know what the heck we think we’re doing.
With her big brown eyes glinting in the moonlight, she looks like a cartoon character who just woke up in a porno, and I can safely say I’ve never gone from turned on to traumatized this fast.
“Oh my god, Oliver,” I say in a rush, scrambling to pull my dress back into place. “Oh my God!”
“What’s wrong?” he pants, still parked between my thighs
“She’s awake,” I insist, pushing at him with one hand as I hold my sagging bodice in place with the other.
He blinks. “She’s fine. Just let me set her down on the floor, so she won’t take a tumble, and—”
“We can’t just set her down!” I bleat as I twist away, drawing my skirt back down to my knees. “We have to comfort her! Reassure her. Get her a treat or something.”
At the word “treat,” Nuggy’s adorable fox ears perk up.
“What?” Olly winces as he adjusts himself beneath his boxers, still apparently utterly confused. “Why?”
“To make amends. Obviously,” I huff, starting to doubt his moral compass. We were just caught humping in front of a precious baby for goodness’ sake, where’s his sense of decency? “For scaring her and corrupting her innocence.”
“For what?” He laughs. I glare. He stops laughing. “You’re serious.” He blinks again before adding in a more cautious voice, “She’s a dog, love, not a nun.”
“She’s a child.”
“She’s not,” he counters firmly.
“She’s very close to a child,” I amend. “And I feel almost as terrible as I would if she were.” I reach for my zipper, my breasts pushing forward as I nudge it up.
Olly’s gaze drops to my cleavage, and I stomp the tip of his shoe with my heel.
“Stop staring at my boobs, give her a cuddle, and tell her it’s going to be all right! ”
Oliver rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he insists, “She’s fine, woman! Seriously. Look at her.” He motions to the dog. “She’s already forgotten everything but that treat you mentioned.”
Nuggy yips and rises onto her stubby legs, silky tail wagging.
“Pick her up, Olly,” I say as I continue to do battle with my zipper. “Don’t let her jump off the bench. It’s too far, she’ll hurt herself. Corgi spines are delicate.”
“Why don’t I attend to your zipper, and you can attend to the not-at-all traumatized adult corgi, who had her first litter last year, and is fully aware of how babies are made?
” He shifts behind me, his breath warm on my shoulder as he adds, “You nutter. Who knew I’d brought a dog fiend into my home? ”
“I’m not a fiend, I’m an appreciator,” I say, smiling as Nuggy bounds eagerly into my arms once more. I cuddle her, kissing her silky head as I murmur, “Did you really have puppies, Princess? I bet they were the most beautiful puppies anyone has ever seen.”
“They were wickedly cute,” Oliver assures me.
“But all claimed by Gretchen’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren before members of The Appreciation Society could throw their hats into the ring.
Grandmother was terribly upset. Personally, I think things worked out for the best. Jasper and Jezebel are awful bullies.
They wouldn’t have been good older siblings.
” He finishes with my zipper and smooths my skirt.
“There. Decent again, once more. Much to my dismay.”
I turn, grinning at his tragic expression. “Oh my, your face.”
He sighs, playing it up as he adds, “Indeed. I suffer, Darling. I really do.”
“It looks like it,” I tease, glancing down at his still throbbing sweater. “You’re especially tragic in the lime green glow of it all.”
He sniffs, lifting his nose in the air. “Yes, well, the fact that my partner in crime seems completely unaffected by the abrupt end of our passionate interlude might be adding to my despair.”
“Don’t despair,” I murmur, nudging my arm against his. “Your partner in crime isn’t unaffected.”
He arches a brow. “No?”
I shake my head. “No. She just thinks we should wait to pick up where we left off until we get home. Where there’s a bed and no dogs.”
“Home, bed, no dogs,” he murmurs. “That sounds good.” He glances down, lips curving as he asks, “What do you think, Princess?”
I follow his gaze to see Nuggy licking his gingerbread man’s googly eyeballs, and laugh. “I think she’s starving.”
“Indeed,” Olly agrees. “We’d better get this puppy a treat before she’s forced to feast on the toxic fibers of my Christmas jumper. Come on, you two. I know where Grandmother hides the best puppy treats.”
I follow him out of the solarium, thoughts of “home” tumbling around in my head.
Oliver’s flat already feels homier than my studio in Queens ever has.
I tell myself it’s the luxurious furniture, fine art on the walls, and fantastic view of the park.
That it’s the elevator and the Egyptian cotton sheets and the bath outfitted with a spa-worthy jacuzzi and heated towel racks, but I know better.
It’s just…him.
This man, who I’m falling for faster than I believed possible.
But maybe love doesn’t play by the rules or slot neatly onto a list. Maybe love does what it damned well pleases.
Especially at Christmas.
After fetching Nuggy a jerky treat from a container by the back door, we rejoin the party.