Chapter 8 #2
With the chill wind that had picked up with the incoming storm, it felt good to be snuggled up against him like this.
The last few days had involved more than a few kisses, but none as hot or as desperate as the one they’d shared—the kiss and more—in her room.
But being pressed against him like this reminded her of how he could make her body sing.
Still, the situation was disappointing.
“Damn,” she whispered.
He made a little noise which might’ve been a chuckle, before squeezing her. “I’m just sorry yer first excavation has been a failure, love.”
“Oh no!” Refusing to allow him to believe that, Olive reared back to stare up at him, loving that he smiled at her despite how disheveled she must look.
“This has been anything but a failure! I have learned so much, and perhaps we did not find what we were seeking, but I found so many other artifacts!” And each one was a treasure to her, even if they were but broken pottery.
“Besides…” She lowered her eyes to his chin as she paraphrased his earlier words. “At least I am with you.”
With a groan, his hold on her tightened. “Lass, ye’re doing that thing with yer lip again.”
A crack of thunder overhead made them both jump.
“What thing?”
“The thing ye do which— Never mind.” When he blew out a breath, it feathered the hair around her forehead.
“Suffice it to say, ye’ve been slowly driving me mad.
Do ye have any idea how much I’ve wanted to kiss ye?
No’ these little pecks we’ve been sharing, but really kiss ye again.
” Before she could reply, he leaned closer, his breath caressing her ear.
“The kind of kiss we shared in yer bedroom. The kind of kiss which ends with ye screaming my name as ye find ecstasy.”
Something between a shiver and a shudder ran through Olive, starting under her chin and rushing lower, before being caught in the middle, in the suddenly warm space between her thighs.
Likely because of the chill in the air.
Even she didn’t believe that.
She was pushing herself up on her toes to meet his lips when the first big plop of rain hit the crown of her head, and she felt him relax the same moment he blew out a frustrated breath. She was still standing, suspended, when he offered her a rueful grin.
“I suppose ye finally get to experience the joys of scrambling to cover a dig site in canvas.” Before she could respond, he dropped his hand to hers so he could pull her toward the storage shed. “Come on!”
It took the two of them to manhandle two of the tarps out of the building, then open them up.
By this time, the rain was pouring in earnest, and Olive was grateful the brim of her hat kept some of it from her eyes so she could still see Phineas’s commands.
As it was, her spectacles were becoming difficult to peer through, but that wasn’t as difficult as the way her sodden skirts threatened to trip her with each stumbling step.
Trousers? Hell, why not wear breeches? Or short pants!
Anything would be better than these thick skirts.
At least I am not wearing a bustle.
The thought sent an unexpected giggle escaping her lips, but Phineas didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to manhandle the other end of the tarp over the opposite edge of their excavation.
As he’d explained on their first day, the canvas would offer some protection to the soil, which hadn’t been exposed to the erosive qualities of rain in centuries, and whatever artifacts might still remain in it.
More importantly, especially considering they both assumed their excavation was likely complete, the rain wouldn’t wash away their careful measurements before they could record everything.
But the canvas was heavier than her skirts, and as the rain beat down, it became heavier still.
Eventually, Phineas was satisfied and gestured to her to precede him to the storage shed. He might’ve said something, but she couldn’t hear it over the pounding of the rain. She lifted her sodden skirts in both hands and began to run toward shelter, glad when he joined her.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Olive stood shivering as he squeezed around her and reached the old worktable.
At some point in the last few days, he’d brought out a new lamp, which he now lit and turned up brightly.
The light did much to alleviate the gloom in the small space, but nothing to chase away the chills.
Olive wrapped her arms around herself to try to maintain some of her warmth and watched him bustle about the shed.
Luckily, it was fairly clean, and the shelves were mostly empty except for the supplies he’d brought that first day.
The piles of canvas still took up most of the floor space, and she wondered if she could use one of the tarps to warm herself.
As she turned to ask him the question, she was surprised to find him holding his dry jacket toward her. Had it been inside the shed all along? It did look terribly warm but…
Wryly, she glanced down at herself. “Thank you, but I suspect I would do it more harm than it would do me any good right now.”
He blinked, then his expression cleared in understanding. “Aye, and the storm doesnae look to end any time soon.” He nodded to the small window on the shed’s north side. “Lucky we had this shelter, I suppose.”
“Aye,” she drawled, imitating him. “Now we just have to keep from freezing to death.”
Chuckling, he tossed his jacket back on the worktable. “I can think of a few things we could try…”
Her breath caught, remembering the embrace they’d shared before the rain started. She glanced out the window, and yes, it was clear they weren’t leaving anytime soon. Which would mean plenty of time to…warm up.
In fact, she was already a bit warmer, wasn’t she?
Her muscles began to relax as Phineas stepped in front of her, his gaze heated. As he lifted his hands, she realized she was holding her breath.
Slowly, without dropping her gaze, Phineas untied the sodden ribbons holding her hat in place.
When the backs of his fingers brushed against her jaw, she sucked in a breath so quickly, she became dizzy.
And then, as he lifted the blasted thing from her head, Olive’s breaths became jerky and far too fast, as she watched him carefully place it on the worktable.
With infinite care, he reached for her spectacles and pulled them from her face.
She couldn’t be quite sure what he was doing, but it seemed as if he’d pulled his shirt from his trousers and wiped the glass.
She helped him slide them back onto her nose, and when she could see once more, she enjoyed the show of his untucked shirt.
“Better?” he whispered.
She could see now, and the hat wasn’t flopping in her face, but… “I am still rather chilled.”
His gaze held hers. “We cannae have that,” he murmured, running his hands down her arms to her hips. “If only there was something we could do—”
Unable to contain her desire for him any longer, Olive surged up on her toes, crushing her lips against his. She thought he might’ve chuckled, but it was quickly smothered as he took control of the kiss. With her arms around his neck, she held on for dear life, loving the way he felt against her.
Funny. She wasn’t cold at all anymore.
“We should…get ye out of…these wet clothes,” Phineas murmured, as he trailed hot kisses down her jaw to her neck.
“Yes! I knew you were brilliant…” Olive arched her back, giving him better access to her skin as she dropped her hold on him to begin fumbling with her buttons.
He helped, and in moments, the only thing between her skin and his warm, appreciative gaze was her corset. When he hesitated, she reached for his waistcoat.
“Fair is fair,” she told him when he looked as if he might object.
In moments, she had his shirt hanging from his shoulders, and before he could take the time to push it off, she reached for him, running her bare palms up the skin of his sides and loving the way he shuddered under her touch.
His torso was lean and well-muscled, and she took the time to trace the ridges of his stomach, and the intriguing vee leading down to where his trousers hung low on his hips.
“Olive,” he growled, almost in warning.
Impishly, she peeked up at him. “Yes, Phineas?”
“If ye dinnae stop looking at me that way…”
His threat trailed off, and she was suddenly feeling quite bold. Taking a step back, she reached for the hooks of her corset, glad it wasn’t so tight she’d need help getting out of it.
She wanted this. She wanted him.
And here, in this small shed, with the rain pounding above them and the ghost of their failed excavation hanging over them, she meant to have him.
“Olive—”
That was as far as he got when the corset popped off. She took a deep breath, knowing her wet chemise did nothing to hide her body, and he groaned.
Then he was reaching for her, and she was pressed up against him, and soon, his mouth was everywhere. Her lips, her throat, her shoulder, her—
Her breasts.
Oh. Oh my.
The sensation of his warm tongue against her air-cool skin was almost more than she could stand. “Phineas!”
“Aye, love,” he growled. “I ken what ye need.”
And then his hand was there, between her legs, giving her exactly what she needed. He stroked her damp curls, and she whimpered and lifted her arms around his neck once again.
But that wasn’t enough. She needed more. Her hips flexed, urging him on, and she lifted one leg to throw around his thigh, then his hip, trying to get closer.
The heavy bulge in his trousers was now pressed right against the place she needed it, and his skin was warm and smooth under her palms as she scrambled at him, trying to pull him even closer.
“I need— Phineas, now!” She knew she wasn’t making any sense, but hopefully, the man had some idea how intercourse was supposed to go, because she was too overcome with need to draw him a diagram.
“Are ye— Olive, are ye certain?”
“Now please!”