Chapter 50
EVIE
A Little Bird Told Us ...
Our London lovers are back on again.
PDAs. Knicker flashes. Wedding bells. We want to see them all!
“Now, where were we?” I purr as I slide my thigh over his, the flare of my robe settling over us like a silken flower bloom.
“I think you were about to kiss me.” Oliver’s smoky tone beckons me closer like curling fingers. Like the sight of him isn’t incentive enough. His hair stark against the white pillows, the sheet lying low across his waist. I run my fingertips over his broad chest, admiring how a few days in the sun has turned him golden.
He hung around while I worked my remaining few shifts, fulfilling my commitment to the animal charity, and he used his time well (not once complaining about the lack of amenities) by surprising me with a few days on a luxury yacht before we left tropical Papua. A gift, he’d called it. Not a case of making decisions without me. A little time and a little space to reacquaint ourselves. And it was heaven.
Equally beautiful was our stop off in Singapore. Lucy and Oliver were so lovely to watch together. I left them alone to talk and heal old wounds. When I returned, it was like meeting the siblings together for the first time. They were so different. So smiley. So ... ornery in their love language.
And now we’re back to reality. To London and whatever our future together might bring. And I cannot wait to experience every moment of it. We have so much to look forward to. Helping Nora get the sanctuary’s charity up and running. And I’m pleased to find Yara is coming on board, especially as Oliver and I are going to be a little busy with Northaby.
We have so many plans and so much to learn about running a safari park.
I won’t own Northaby outright, because that would be madness. It’ll be held in trust, securing it for future generations to love.
All because of his love.
It’s not so much a Pemberley that he’s provided me with but a legacy. There’s still going to be a hotel, because Oliver wouldn’t be Oliver without making money. The place is getting a whole new lease on life and an influx of billions. And we’re going to have an apartment there. Maybe even a wing ...
As special as that is, it’s not what made my heart sing.
Northaby is set to become a new kind of vacation, one that’s accessible for families of all incomes. We’re preserving everything, sharing everything—the animals and the history as we open the whole place up to the public. It’ll be a place of learning about the past and the future as we aim to educate our visitors in conservation. It’s the best gift in the world. One I get to share with the world.
“What are you waiting for, darling?”
What I won’t ever share is this man. He is so wonderful, so handsome, his eyes bright and expectant, a sultry smile playing on his lips.
“Don’t rush me,” I whisper, cupping my hand to the back of his neck, my finger teasing the soft hairs there. “It’s not like we have anywhere to be.” He makes a noise of masculine contentment as I press myself closer, my breasts rubbing his chest through my thin robe.
“Eve.” He’s all ache and want as I rock my body over his, barely touching the sheet that’s not exactly covering his—
“Oh!” He whips it deftly across the bed, pulling my body down to his. Hard meets soft in an instant, and I whimper, my insides turning molten.
“You are so beautiful.” His compliments turn me pliant as his fingers slide the robe from my shoulders until it pools at my waist. “Your freckles,” he whispers, trailing his finger across my skin. “So pretty and just begging to be kissed.”
“Sweet talker.” I sigh as his lips trail across my skin, as he lifts my breast, his eyes turning languid as he sucks my nipple into his mouth.
“Sweet is watching you ride me.” He blows a cooling breath over the hardened peak.
“Yes ...” I push up onto my knees, my hand sliding between us to slip across my hot center in a bare caress.
“Fuck, yes. Touch yourself. Let me watch. Eve, in the garden of temptation.”
“Lady garden,” I half rasp, half laugh, undulating over him.
“You look like my fantasy brought to life. All lush curves, wet pussy, and pleading, fuck-me eyes.”
His words are a filthy kind of reverence as I slip my fingers inside. As I writhe. “My Romeo has such a dirty mouth,” I whisper, loving his eyes on me.
“I’ll let you ride it in a little while.” His voice rasps like sandpaper as he grasps the base of his cock.
“God, I need to feel you inside me.” Pleasure pulses through me as his tongue moves over my nipple. I buck. I break. Come apart, just a little bit, there, against him.
I feel so utterly owned and loved as he presses himself to my opening. Our breaths hold as I take him inside, as he holds me there, his eyes never leaving mine. We are wild and unrestrained as we express our love this way, our pleasure too great to prolong as my love spills at his words.
I can feel your heart beating for me.
You are so fucking perfect.
“Oh, God!” A ripple of awareness courses through me and I fall apart in his arms. Oliver follows me as I reach my peak.
Our arms drape around the other, our lips reluctant to part as we whisper promises of love and devotion, when we’re rudely interrupted as Bo bursts through the door.
“Ew, Mr. Bo!”
“Bugger off, Bo! Stop hogging my woman.”
We collapse in a heap, Oliver shielding me with his body. And pulling the sheet with him, because you can’t be too careful where that dog’s tongue is concerned.
“Get down,” Oliver complains when Bo’s slobbery doggy kisses are interrupted by a knock at the door. More accurately, a series of thumps that sets him off barking.
“Ignore it,” Oliver says, bodily rolling Bo from the bed.
“It might be important,” I protest, pitching the other way before he can stop me. “Yara said to expect the paperwork today.”
“Bloody Nora.”
Ignoring my love’s grumbles, I right my robe and squeeze out through the door, managing to leave Bo behind as the hammering starts up again.
“Coming!” I call, crossing the space.
“What, again?” Oliver shouts. “I am fucking amazing!”
“Shush,” I shout, not sure why I’m bothering. Whoever that is can’t hear over the noise of their own racket.
“Where’s the fire?” I call, yanking the door open.
“Evelyn Fairfax?” A woman in a gray pantsuit stands on the threshold, a guy in business casual next to her. He has one hand sunk into his pocket; in the other he’s holding a leather folio.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“My name is Rebecca Brown, and this is Vernon Hall. We’re here from His Majesty’s Immigration Department.”
Oh, shit! My brows bounce; my mood too. “Hi! Hello! How can I help you?”
“We’re here for your appointment. Your visa inspection?”
“I ...” don’t know what they’re talking about . “I already have my biometric card, notification that everything is hunky dory. A done deal?” Hunky dory? Where in the heck did that come from?
“Not quite,” Rebecca says. “It has come to our attention that the relationship aspect of your visa might have been breached.”
“I’m not sure how,” I answer, fixing on a smile. “Mine is a business visa, not a relationship one.”
“Well,” the man by her side mutters gruffly. “There appear to be some discrepancies. It’s a favor to you that we’re here.”
I give myself an internal shake and turn a dazzling smile on the pair. “Well, then I guess you’d better come in.” Moving back from the door, I grasp my robe at my chest. “Please excuse the state of the place,” I demur, eyeing the clothing explosion on the sofa. Oliver and I might’ve gotten a little frisky on the couch last night. “We’ve just gotten back from a trip,” I say, stuffing a pair of my panties behind a velvet throw cushion.
“Yes, we’re aware,” Vernon says at the same time Rebecca says, “Anywhere nice?”
The pair then exchanges a look that seems like a whole conversation. I cannot for the life of me decipher what it means as their gazes return to me.
“Nice?” I nod as a myriad of images flash through my head. Some of them sweet. Some of them sexy. And none of them suitable for public consumption. “Yes. At least, I think so.”
The door to the bedroom opens, and Bo bursts out, shortly followed by an absolutely beautiful but very naked Oliver.
“Eve? Who was at the ... oh, hello.” I begin to giggle as his hands move to his junk at warp speed. He shuffles sideways behind one of the sofas. “I didn’t realize we had guests,” he says, ridiculously half crouching behind it.
“Oh, I think we get that, honey.” I turn to Rebecca with a small shrug. “Well, I guess you now know I’m not with Oliver for his money. But where are my manners! Please, take a seat. Can I offer you something to drink? We have wine and whisky ... I think there might be some vodka in the fridge?”
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning.” Not only is Vernon grumbly, but he’s also very judgy.
“Sorry, we’re still on vacation mode, and it’s always five o’clock somewhere!”
“Let’s get on with this, shall we?” the man mutters.
I decide I like Rebecca better, even if she’s pink faced from ogling my man. But I direct them to the dining table, sliding last night’s post-sex-recovery room service (club sandwich for Oliver, fries and mayonnaise for me) to one side.
“Can I just ask,” Oliver begins, swiping up a throw pillow from the couch to use as a modesty shield, “who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“This is Rebecca and Vernon. They’re here about my visa interview.” With a shrug, I mouth, “What the fuck?”
“Eve’s visa was arranged with an immigration lawyer. It’s been awarded already. What exactly is this about?” Oliver asserts with as much dignity as a naked man can.
The pair looks at the paperwork. Heads shake and mutters are made.
“The application is for a spousal visa,” Rebecca murmurs, still red cheeked.
“Your second visa application,” Vernon adds snidely.
Gee, thanks for the reminder, Vernon.
“No, there’s been some mistake. That’s the wrong category of visa.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Vernon demands. “Nothing to explain the reason for two spousal visas?”
“No, not really.” I narrow my gaze, suspicious. Is Vernon from the immigration department or the morality police?
“Not that it has anything to do with Eve’s visa or, quite frankly, anything to do with you, but Eve is in a settled relationship.” Oliver adopts a superior tone, eyeing the pair as though they’re underlings.
“What about the Pulse Tok video?” Rebecca asks meekly.
“And the media interest?” Vernon demands. “Do you have anything to say about that?”
“Just that they’re very intrusive,” I reply, aggrieved. “They were already camped outside of the hotel when we got back yesterday.”
“I’d love to know who’s feeding them information.” Oliver fumbles with the pillow, and Rebecca squeaks at his inadvertent dick slip.
“Listen,” I say, trying very hard to master myself. “That pack of sharks has gotten most of it wrong. We didn’t split up,” I add in my most innocent tone. “I had volunteering commitments. On the other side of the world.” Totally plausible, right?
Vernon’s gaze slices my way. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Really? Well, last week, I spent hours applying ointment to that man’s infected mosquito ass bites while we were in Papua New Guinea.”
Oliver turns and flashes his taut, tanned buns. They’re still dappled with red, raised welts. Naked sunbathing will do that to you in the tropics—the mosquitos are on steroids over there.
“Enough of this,” Vernon gripes. “You need to prove to us that this is a legitimate relationship.”
“Hello!” I hold out my hand to indicate Oliver’s undressed state. In response to their blank stares, I add, “The man is butt nekkid.”
“Sex doesn’t constitute a relationship.”
But I can see Rebecca disagrees.
“What’s his favorite color?” Vernon demands.
I fold my arms with a sigh, then send Oliver an I told you so glare. “Remember this conversation? Didn’t I say we needed to go over this?”
“This is highly irregular,” Vernon puffs. “Miss Fairfax will be detained, likely deported, if we don’t see evidence that this is a real relationship.”
“You want evidence?” Oliver demands, Frisbee-ing the throw pillow across the room.
Rebecca gasps, and I squeak as all that gorgeousness eats up the floor between us. Swinging free, if you know what I mean.
Oliver whistles and Bo barks, bounding between us with a box between his teeth. Oliver takes it and drops to one knee.
“That was clever.” Really clever, though I’m not sure where I want to look most.
“The benefits of jet lag. We’ve been working on it while you slept, haven’t we, Bo?”
“I hope you kept your pants on.”
He doesn’t laugh, though his chest moves with a deep inhale. “I know it’s probably too soon, but when you know you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you just know. I might not know your favorite color, but I know mine is the red gold of your hair. I know you to be fierce and loyal and loving, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you.”
My heart lifts, my whole being turning weightless. I glance down at my feet, not sure how they’re still touching the floor.
“I swear to love you with all that I am, over an engagement that spans years, if that’s what you want. Because my heart chooses you, my darling, from now until my very last breath.”
I have no hesitation. My heart is filled with nothing but certainty and love. His heart chooses mine, and mine his.
Tears course down my face as he flips the box open to reveal the ring of my dreams. A violet sapphire, almost the color of his eyes, a dainty row of diamonds circling it. My hand trembles as he slips it onto my finger.
“Eve, my love. My heart. Will you marry me? Sometime? Anytime? Just say you’ll always be mine.”