Chapter Eighteen
Oliver
Despite the fact that dinner had been a very spur-of-the-moment thing, it actually turned out really well.
The Hasselback potatoes were crispy and buttery, the steak practically melted in my mouth, and the chimichurri was fresh and spicy, perfectly balancing it all out.
I’d grilled the corn on the cob as well, basting it in chilli butter, meaning it was crunchy and full of flavour.
It would be perfect on a barbecue where the charcoal would give it a little smoke and char, and I made a mental note to ask Lane if he had one we could test it out on at some point.
We ate at the small dining table in Lane’s kitchen, which folded out from the wall to save space while Sparrow watched us from her rarely used bed in the corner.
It felt more intimate than the other dinners we’d had together, where we were usually at opposite ends of the sofa watching whatever we could find on Netflix.
We were so close our knees kept brushing against each other, and I couldn’t stop drinking in all the tiny details of Lane’s face.
It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again.
It would have been the perfect opportunity for us to talk about whatever this was and for me to put into words how I was feeling. But neither of us said anything.
I could feel it lurking there, though, like the ghost of our past come back to haunt us and remind us of our mistakes.
I wondered whether it was trying to warn us not to repeat ourselves or a spectral vision of the future, a reminder that we were bound to make the same choices and watch them play out without getting a say.
I wanted to say that was bollocks, that Lane and I were different now and that meant we’d make better decisions. But since I hadn’t even talked to him about how I felt or what I was thinking about the cottage and what I wanted, I couldn’t completely dismiss it.
The problem was that we’d only been back in each other’s lives for a few weeks, and even though part of me wanted this to have a fairy-tale ending where we made up, got back together, and lived happily ever after having copious amounts of amazing sex, I knew that was more fantasy than reality.
There were so many moving parts to our lives these days, and I had no idea how to balance them all out. I desperately wanted to believe love conquered all, but my heart still had the scars from believing that once.
“Did you want pudding?” I asked, reaching out to collect our empty plates before Lane’s hand batted mine away.
“Not right now,” he said as he picked up the plates and carried them across to the dishwasher. “I’d rather save it for later. Otherwise, I’ll be too full to move, and we won’t get to all your fun plans.”
“Good point.”
“I’ll bring you one after I’ve worn you out, and you can eat it in bed.”
I grinned. “I’ve only ever tried food in bed once, but it was too sticky.”
“I was going to suggest you eat it, not fuck it,” Lane said with a chuckle. “But hey, if you want to try that, I’m down to give it a go.”
“No thanks. I don’t think I’m up for holding two bits of meringue against my dick.” I tried to imagine what that would even be like, but it just sounded messy and ridiculous. “It would go everywhere too. And I’d get sticky, cream dick.”
Lane burst out laughing. “Sticky, cream dick? Sounds fun.”
“Are you offering to clean it up?” I asked, turning in my chair so I could gaze up at him.
Lane’s expression was full of desire, pinning me in place and practically melting me into a puddle.
I’d meant it as a joke, but now I’d happily empty a whole fucking can of squirty cream over my cock if he asked.
“What do you think?”
I swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”
Lane just smirked at me. My cock throbbed in my jeans, and I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.
How the fuck was it that I’d gone from enjoying perfectly fine, if a little boring, sex with guys in London to dreaming about being fucked in front of a window and having cream licked off my dick by Lane?
And that didn’t include letting him spank me until my ass was red, and I was so hard and desperate I thought I’d explode.
Maybe it was because I trusted him more than anyone I’d ever met, even the other men I’d had relationships with.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” I asked, hoping he’d say yes because I needed him.
“In a minute,” Lane said. “I think we need to wait at least ten minutes for our food to go down.”
“This isn’t swimming. I won’t get cramp or something.”
“We’re still going to wait, though.” He held out his hand, and I stood, immediately reaching for it.
Lane clasped my hand and led me out to the garden, where the sun hung low in the sky.
It was still warm, and a fresh breeze off the sea caressed my skin.
There were a couple of chairs on a small patio, and he indicated I should sit down.
I did, and Lane took the chair next to me, still holding my hand.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I said as I looked around the small garden.
It was just a simple lawn with a little tree in one corner, a couple of bushes, and some trough-style planters filled with lavender, but it looked down over the bay, and in the distance, I saw the castle standing on top of the cliffs, its windows glowing gold in the light of the setting sun.
I could almost pinpoint where Honeysuckle Cottage was as well.
“Thanks. It’s not finished,” Lane said, “but it’s good enough for now.
I want to build a proper fire pit for the winter and get a barbecue put in over there instead of just using that old one.
” He gestured at the corner of the patio where a small, cauldron-shaped metal barbecue stood against the wall.
“Maybe get a few more plants. I’m not great with gardening, so they’d need to be easy to maintain. ”
“You could always ask Ivor,” I said. “Although, you’ll probably get a four-hour lecture rather than a quick rundown of ideas.”
Lane chuckled. “I don’t know. Ivor’s never been a man of many words.”
“True, it’s more likely to be two sentences that you have to try to interpret. The fire pit is an amazing idea, though, and the barbecue. You could always put in a smoker or a pizza oven too.”
“I could, but I’d never use them,” he said almost wistfully.
I opened my mouth to tell him I’d happily use them.
I’d always wanted to try making proper American barbecue, but it just wasn’t something I could do in a small oven.
It would be fun to try it with Lane, though, and if it worked, we could get everyone around for dinner.
Maybe we could do that anyway, just on a simpler level.
“How do you feel about getting everyone around at some point?” I asked.
“We could do a barbecue or something? It wouldn’t need to be complicated, and I don’t mind doing most of the cooking, but I noticed in the butcher’s today they had some nice pre-prepared bits, and I don’t know…
maybe it would be fun? I understand if it would be weird, though, since we’re just…
” I trailed off because I didn’t know how to end that sentence.
My words hung in the air as I waited for an answer. I heard Lane shift in his chair, but I kept my eyes fixed on the castle, which was slowly being consumed by shadows. I didn’t know why his answer felt like a big deal, but it did.
“That sounds fun,” he said, and the knot of tension in my chest released. “I was thinking about it anyway, but if you’re offering to help, I’m happy to take you up on it. We can see if they’re free next Saturday or something. It’d be a bit tight to do it this week.”
“And you’ve already insisted I have to pick out paint colours.” I turned to him and grinned. “That’s going to be so stressful I’m going to need a lie-down afterwards.”
Lane chuckled. “You can spend the afternoon in a dark room thinking about what an asshole I am for making you choose something other than cream.”
“Maybe you can keep me company while I contemplate my fate,” I said, and Lane pretended to think about it for a second.
“Maybe. Depends.”
“On what?”
“How difficult you’ve been all afternoon.” His voice was teasing, but there was a soft, dangerous note to it that made my breath catch. “I don’t know how much of a quiet lie-down you’ll be allowed to have.”
“Are you going to spank me?” I’d meant for it to come out jokingly, not laced with desperation.
“Maybe,” Lane said with a smirk. “Depends on how nicely you ask.” He lowered his voice and leant closer to me. “I know you can beg for me, Oliver. I want to hear you do it again.”
“O-okay.” I nodded so fast it made my head spin. “I can beg.”
“Good boy.” He cupped my chin in his hand and drew me towards him. His kiss was deep and dark, his tongue claiming me. I wanted to climb out of my chair and into his lap, folding myself into his arms and giving myself over to him completely.
I stood, my hand clutching his, hoping his touch would keep me rooted in reality.
“Do you still want to go upstairs?” Lane asked.
“I think you should stop asking stupid questions.” I tugged his hand, and Lane stood, looking up at me with a warm certainty that made my chest flutter. I knew I needed to sit down and give our future the thought it deserved. But not tonight.
Tonight, I didn’t want to think.
I just wanted to be loved.