Chapter 10
“What’s the matter?” Oliver asked.
“I ate too much.”
I was lying on the couch rubbing my stomach with my hand. I loved the buffet at Diamond Square and took a little of everything. They had a carve bar where the chefs were slicing tender roast beef, juicy turkey, pork roast and other meats.
The seafood section contained several raw selections along with cooked. I filled a separate plate up with crab legs and took a small bowl with clarified butter. I took several spoons of pasta salads and vegetables, but I made sure to save room for the dessert table.
Oliver chuckled. “You ate enough crab legs to turn into one.”
“You know I love crab.”
“That’s a given. You also ate too many macrons.”
I hummed. “They had blueberry and key lime. Why didn’t we take some home?”
“You had them on top of the cake for Finley and Sadie.”
He smiled. “And don’t forget the champagne.”
Oliver sat down next to me and gently pushed my hand away so he could take over rubbing my belly. He pushed up my white t-shirt and rubbed his smooth hand over my skin. The pads of his fingers brushed the undersides of my breasts and before long, he was palming them.
“My breasts don’t hurt, my stomach does.”
"I like them better than your stomach," Oliver murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over my skin.
"I know you do, but I'm in no condition for sex right now," I replied, feeling exhausted.
He frowned. "I'm not asking for sex."
"Then stop playing with my breasts," I said, gently pushing his hand away.
Oliver withdrew and caressed my stomach instead. "Are you packing tomorrow?"
"What time are we leaving?" I asked, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.
"I'd say 8. You can sleep on the plane if you're tired."
`"I won't be if you leave me alone," I joked, though a hint of seriousness lingered in my tone.
"Don't blame me for our nocturnal activities. I seem to remember you starting it last night when I was ready for bed," he teased.
"Aww, poor baby," I teased back, earning a playful glare from him.
"Just for that, we aren't having sex tonight," he declared, though I could see the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
"You're putting your foot down?" I raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden resolve.
"I am," he affirmed, crossing his arms.
"That doesn’t mean I have to listen. Even Finley knows I'm stubborn," I countered, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.
"You're difficult, but I can melt you," he said confidently, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
"At least I'll get a good sleep tonight," I quipped, snuggling closer to him.
“Oh God, I thought you said no sex tonight,” I panted.
“I lied,” Oliver said, before thrusting into me again. I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled him closer. I was trying to hold on because it felt so good, but each time he hit that spot deep inside me, I wanted to explode. I rippled around him before I shattered into a million pieces, my chest heaving and heart pounding.
Oliver kept moving and it amazed me his staying power. I shuddered as he grazed the root of his cock against my ultrasensitive clit, and he stopped moving to let me rest.
“You can continue,” I panted.
He ground his teeth. “If I continue, I’ll come.”
“That’s the point.”
“No, the point is for me to make you come.”
“And I have.”
He kissed my neck and bit into my earlobe. “I want more. I love to feel you come on my cock.”
I reached up to push a lock of hair from his sweaty forehead. “I think I’m way ahead of you in the orgasm department. You’ve given me so many.”
“I’m not keeping count.”
He lifted himself off me and pulled out. His penis glistening with my juices.
“On your knees,” he commanded.
“I don’t have the strength.”
Oliver flipped me over onto my stomach, slipped a pillow under my hips then laid on top of me, thrusting his cock inside my slick channel. He sandwiched me to the bed as he fucked me. With each stroke, my clit rubbed against the soft fabric of the pillowcase causing delicious waves of electricity to course through me.
“Shit, I’m gonna come again.”
“This time I’m joining you,” he grunted. I squeezed him as I detonated and he followed, slamming into me until he was spent.
“Jesus Christ Ryleigh, I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of you.”
I was weak, boneless and fully sated. “I think I’m done for the evening. You wore me out.”
Oliver slipped out of me and climbed out of bed. I heard the water running as I laid there, unable to move as I waited for the numbness to wear away. He came back a few minutes later and gently rolled me over, wiping between my legs with a warm cloth then drying me. He removed the pillow and pulled the covers over me.
“Sleep, sweetheart.”
Oliver didn’t have to ask me twice. I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about our wedding day. It was a beautiful event with lots of white flowers and champagne toasts but as the festivities wound down, I found myself hiding in the darkness from a man who was pursuing me. I couldn’t escape and when I thought I was safe, he found me, dragging me out and pointing a gun in my face.
“Ryleigh, wake up!”
My eyes fluttered open to see Oliver’s worried expression.
“What happened?” I mumbled.
“You don’t remember?” he asked.
“It was our wedding day. A man.”
“A man what?”
“A man with dark hair was following me. I tried to hide but he found me and pointed a gun in my face. It felt so real.”
Oliver’s expression darkened. “That’s never going to happen. We’ll have security the entire day.”
“I know that, but I can’t stop my subconscious from what I dream about.”
“You don’t have to worry. You’re safe.”
He hugged me to his bare chest, burying his head in my hair. I love Oliver so much, but I had my doubts that even he could protect me if someone wanted to get to me.
The next morning, I felt groggy as shit. I could feel the start of a headache behind my eyes as I shifted in bed. Oliver was draped around me, and his body heat was stifling. I tried to wiggle out of his grasp.
“Where are you going?”
“You’re too hot.”
“So are you.”
“Not that kind of hot.”
“You don’t think I’m hot?”
“Sexy, yes and temperature which is why you need to get off me. You’re making me sweat.”
“You didn’t seem to mind me making you sweat last night.”
“That was different. I expect to sweat when we have sex.”
He loosened his grip and I moved away from him but stayed in bed. Oliver stroked my hair and ran his fingers over the outside of my ear.
“Such delicate ears.”
“You’re sweet. What do you want to do today? It looks like snow.”
I looked out the patio window at the gray day that was just starting to dawn. I was glad we were leaving for St. Croix on Monday. A little time on the beach and some bright sunshine would do me good. I was excited to see the progress of our home on Fox Island.
Oliver leaned back against the sofa, his expression thoughtful. "I need to do some shopping," he said.
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You? I'm surprised you weren’t done weeks ago."
"I have more people to buy for this year," he explained.
"Who did you buy for last year?" I asked, curious.
"A few friends and Jonah," he replied casually.
"Friends? Female friends?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Don’t start. You weren’t in the picture back then. You can’t expect me to feel guilty for buying gifts for female friends," he defended himself.
"You gave Lara a gift?" I questioned further, feeling a pang of jealousy.
"We were spending time together. I didn’t want to be rude," he explained, though his tone was defensive.
"What did she buy you?" I pressed, unable to contain my curiosity.
"Why is this conversation relevant?" he sighed, seeming slightly annoyed.
"I just want to know what she bought you," I insisted.
Oliver hesitated before finally admitting, "Cuff links."
My expression darkened. He always wore a certain pair of cufflinks, and if they were the ones from her, I wanted him to stop.
"The monogrammed ones you always wear?" I asked, my voice tinged with hostility.
"Yes. I like them. It’s not because I feel anything for her," he assured me.
"I don’t want you to wear them anymore," I stated firmly, my jealousy bubbling to the surface.
"Your green streak is showing," he remarked, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone.
"I’m not jealous. She’s a bitch, and you shouldn’t wear anything from another woman," I retorted, my tone firm.
"I’ll put them away," he relented.
"You’ll give them away," I insisted, determined.
"That’s rude. They’re gold," he protested.
"So?" I countered.
"Ryleigh, do you have gifts from Ty?" he asked, shifting the focus of the conversation.
"A few. Ty is different. I haven’t slept with him, and he’s just a friend," I explained, feeling the need to clarify.
"But he’s a man. Isn’t it the same thing?" he challenged.
"No, it’s not. You had an intimate relationship with Lara," I insisted, feeling a surge of frustration.
"I didn’t. We fucked, and she escorted me to functions," he clarified, his tone defensive.
"You fucked her, that’s intimate," I countered, my voice rising slightly.
"Why does it bother you so much?" he questioned, genuinely curious.
"Because she touched you like you were hers. You’re mine," I admitted, my jealousy laid bare.
"I am yours, and this conversation is ridiculous. I’ll put the cuff links away," he conceded, seeming tired of the argument.
"Thank you," I said, feeling a sense of relief.
"Stop worrying about Lara. She means nothing to me," he reassured me.
"I hope not," I replied honestly, still feeling uneasy.
"You doubt me," he observed, his tone tinged with hurt.
"No. I’m just saying I hope she doesn’t mean anything to you," I clarified, wanting to reassure him.
"She’s a friend and that’s all, just like Ty is to you," he said, attempting to ease the tension.
"Point taken. Let’s move on," I agreed, eager to change the subject.
"So, as I was saying, I’d like to do some shopping," Oliver continued, shifting the conversation.
"I’d like to do some shopping too. Can I come with you?" I asked, hoping to spend time together.
"No. I have to get things I don’t want you to see," he replied, his expression serious.
"Then I’ll go by myself," I stated, determined.
"You’ll take Brenda. I can have Vlad escort me," he suggested, his tone firm.
"Fine. Works for me," I acquiesced, though a part of me still felt unsettled.
After three hours of shopping, my feet were killing me. I made the mistake of wearing a pair of boots that were new. I sat down on a pink padded bench in Boudoir Fashions. One of my gifts to Oliver would be a long beige satin nightgown with spaghetti straps. I was looking through their website a few weeks ago and he commented about this very nightgown. I had no idea he had a preference.
This was the last store I stopped in for the day. I had already missed lunch and my stomach growled in protest. All I wanted to do was go home, take off these boots and have a sandwich. I hadn’t heard from Oliver in a few hours, and I suspected he was just as tired as I was from fighting the crowds of Christmas shoppers.
“I think it’s time to go,” I told Brenda who was sitting next to me.
“Let me call Trevor,” she said. Trevor had the black sedan while Oliver took the limo with Vlad. At least I didn’t have to lug around packages like other shoppers. Each time I finished at one store; we dropped off the bags with Trevor.
Outside, Fifth Avenue was teeming with visitors looking at the Christmas windows. I fought through the crowd with Brenda behind me and was thankful when we got into the car.
“I love and hate Christmas in Manhattan,” I said.
Brenda smiled. “I know what you mean.”
“You never told me if you have any family.”
“I have two sisters. They live in New Jersey,” she said.
“Are you seeing them for the holiday?”
“I’ll be working. We all will.”
“We’re going to my parents for the holiday. I don’t think it’s necessary that you come.”
“Mr. Fox wants us on duty.”
I frowned, unzipping my boot and rubbing my right foot. I could feel a blister on my heel. I wondered why Oliver wanted the entire staff on duty. Oliver wasn’t home for me to ask when I got into the penthouse. I looked around for spots to hide things since I didn’t want him to discover anything.
I used the credit card he gave me for purchases and went a little overboard. Matthew told me a while back that he wanted silk shirts with French cuffs, and I bought him two. They were soft and I picked them out a powder blue and ivory.
Finley was easy since he’d been talking about tickets to Cygnus. They were sold out and even his contacts couldn’t get him seats. With one phone call, Oliver got him seats on the stage and passes to meet the band after. Finley would be so surprised. I bought Sadie a pair of diamond earrings. She admired mine and I wanted to get her a pair ever since.
My fiancé was harder to buy for. What do you get the man that has almost everything? The lingerie was just one gift I knew he would appreciate. The rest took some thinking. I hoped he would like whatever I bought.
When Oliver finally came home, I was sitting in the tub full of fragrant lime basil bubbles, sipping a glass of chilled white wine. He called for me as he came down the hall to the bedroom.
“In the bathroom.”
He ducked his head in, and I smiled at his handsome face. “You were gone a long time.”
“When did you get home?” he asked.
“About an hour and a half ago. I have a blister from my boots,” I said as I held my foot up for him to see.
“Did you finish shopping?”
I nodded, spreading my arms out on the rim of the tub. “Almost. I used the card.”
Oliver leaned against the doorjamb. “That’s what I gave it to you for.”
“I got Matthew those silk shirts he wanted.”
He smirked. “He is becoming quite the dapper man.”
“He always was so particular.”
Oliver removed his green wool hat, and I sucked in my breath.
“You got your hair cut?”
He ran his hand through his sandy hair. “You like it?”
“It looks good, but the hat flattened it. I thought you wanted me to cut it for you?”
“I was near the salon, so I went in. Alfonso did a good job.”
Oliver had gotten a short fade, and his hair was thick and slicked back in the middle. He looked sexy and I couldn’t wait to see it when it wasn’t disturbed by a hat.
“Yes, he did. Want to join me?”
He nodded. “I think that would be fun. Let me get undressed.”
I held my almost empty wine glass to him. “Can you refill my wine before you come in?”
He entered the bathroom after he shucked off his navy-blue wool pea coat and took the glass I held out to him, gently tugging on my hair so he could give me a kiss. As he walked away, I thought I caught the scent of another woman’s perfume.
It probably was nothing since I was sure he had probably been sandwiched against people all day the way I had. Anyone’s scent could’ve transferred to him. Oliver came back a few minutes later with my wine then removed his clothes.
“Want to move forward?” he asked.
“No. Why don’t you sit in front of me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, sure.”
He sat on the edge of the tub and slipped in then got between my legs and leaned back against my chest.
“I like this,” I said.
“I’m not too heavy?”
“You’re fine.”
I took a sip of my wine and placed it on the small white porcelain shelf over the tub. I stroked Oliver’s hair with my wet hands, plastering it down on his head.
“There’s not as much for me to pull.”
He chuckled. “We’re you planning on pulling my hair?”
I wiggled my legs around him. “You know what I mean.”
“It will grow back in no time. This is neater. My hair was getting out of hand.”
I began to massage his strong shoulders, running my wet hands over his muscles. “Was it busy today?”
“It was. I was getting pushed around in the stores. I love the holidays but not some of the stuff that goes along with it.”
“We have to pack.”
Oliver ran his fingers over my legs. Despite the warm water, goosebumps peppered my skin. “I know. I hope we can get out before the snow comes in.”
“How much is expected?” I asked.
“A few inches but I prefer to be in the air before it starts.”
“I hope we have time to go to the beach,” I said with anticipation.
“We will and you’re going to love Fox Island.”
“I can’t believe you own an island,” I said excitedly.
“We own an island.”
“Does Jonah know you’re coming?” I asked.
“No. I’d rather surprise him and see what he’s up to.”
I planted kisses on Oliver’s shoulder and stroked my hand down his belly, stopping just above his pubic area. I was tempted to touch him lower, but I kept my hand still, fingering the ridges of his stomach.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked.
I nuzzled his ear. “No. I like touching you.”
“No kidding.”
I moved my hand further and wasn’t surprised to find him partially erect. I stroked Oliver’s shaft with soapy hands, and he softly moaned as he grew to full staff.
“It didn’t take long,” I whispered.
I moved faster, fisting him tightly as I pumped up and down. Oliver bucked his hips, groaning my name. He dug his nails into my thighs then grabbed my hand to stop me, but I persisted until he gave in and released me. I changed speed, pumping slowly. The water rippled as his hips moved in rhythm.
“Come for me, baby,” I whispered.
His body tensed and he grunted loudly as he climaxed. I continued to stroke until he stopped me.
“That was so good, but I prefer to come somewhere else.”
“I think we should get out of the tub. I’m tired. I think I have a bruise on my arm. Some lady in Macy’s elbowed me when I was looking at cookware.”
“Cookware? Why were you looking at pots and pans?”
“My mother wants the copper-bottomed set and an iron frying pan.”
“Did you buy them for her?”
“The frying pan. I think Anders is buying her the set. He didn’t answer his phone so I took a pass. It would be embarrassing if I gave her the same gift as him.”
“Not embarrassing. She would have twice as much to cook with.”
Oliver stood up and stepped out of the tub. Bubbles lingered on his body and he entered the shower stall to wash them off. I followed, hitting the plunger so the water drained from the tub. We took a quick shower and dressed in our robes.
“What about a tree?” I asked as we headed for the kitchen.
“You want one? I never had one. They’re a bit messy.”
“We need a tree,” I insisted.
“We’ll get one when we come back from St. Croix.”
“I might just want to stay there if the weather is nice.”
“It will be nice. It’s almost always nice.”
Oliver retrieved my wine glass from the bathroom and refreshed it then poured himself a glass of the same fruity white wine. We sat on the couch, and he gently massaged the blister on my heel.
"Does it hurt?" Oliver asked, concern etched across his features.
I winced slightly. "A little. It'll go away. I just can’t wear those boots for a while."
He nodded, relief washing over his face. "You won’t need to for at least a few days."
I sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position. "We should pack. What time is Vlad picking us up?"
"6:00 a.m. sharp, so don’t be dragging around in the morning," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
I snorted, rolling my eyes. "I don’t always do that. I’ve been tired lately, probably from the interrupted sleep courtesy of my fiancé."
Oliver gasped dramatically. "Don’t blame me. You wake me up just as much as I do you."
"Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better," I retorted, giving him a playful shove. "Are we taking the larger Fox jet?"
His eyes twinkled mischievously. "You mean the one with the bedroom?"
I nodded eagerly. "Yes, that one."
"We are. Maintenance is finished, and it passed with flying colors," he said, his arm wrapping around me as I snuggled deeper into his side.
"I like that jet," I murmured, closing my eyes for a moment.
"I bet you do. So many naughty memories in it," he chuckled, his fingers tracing patterns on my shoulder.
"I like being naughty six miles up. You’ve given me so many new experiences," I admitted, a smile playing on my lips.
"We should pack before it gets too late," he suggested, glancing at the clock.
"Are we sharing a suitcase?" I asked, looking up at him.
"That depends," he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"On what?" I pressed, curious.
"If you don’t overpack. You have a tendency to do that. We’re only going for three days. You don’t need to go crazy," he teased, poking my side.
"I never know what you want to do. Suppose you take me out to a fancy restaurant and I didn’t bring a dress?" I countered, pouting slightly.
"That’s what stores are for. They do have them on St. Croix," he replied with a chuckle.
"I know they do, silly," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Pack light and whatever we need, we’ll buy," he assured me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
"I’m excited," I confessed, feeling a flutter of anticipation.
"Me too," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that made my heart skip a beat.
I yawned, stretching slightly in the plush seat. "When will we be landing?"
Oliver checked his watch, glancing at me with a small smile. "Probably in a half hour. Did you have a good nap?"
"Yes," I nodded, sinking back into the butter-soft tan leather. "These seats are so comfortable, like first class."
"Better than first class," he corrected with a wink.
I had fallen asleep the minute we took off, the flurries outside doing little to unsettle me. Oliver had reassured me not to worry about the weather. My sleep had been disturbed last night by a nightmare—not loud enough to wake Oliver but scary enough to disrupt my rest. I had tossed and turned until the alarm went off.
"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked, his voice soft.
"When? Now?" I blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
"Last night. I felt you moving around."
"I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It's the stress of the trip," I explained, biting my lip.
Oliver sighed, a hint of concern in his eyes. "I still think you should see a therapist."
"I'm not interested. They couldn’t help me before," I replied, my tone defensive.
"You were six. Things change, and your brain matures."
"I don’t want to get involved. I have too many things on my plate."
"Will you at least think about it?" he pressed gently.
"Yes. If I decide to go, you’ll be the first to know," I answered curtly, turning to look out the window. We were flying over a few clouds, but I was sure it would be sunny when we got to St. Croix. The weather app on my phone had promised sunny and warm in the eighties.
Sensing I didn’t want to discuss it any longer, Oliver returned to his laptop, tapping away until a female flight attendant, dressed in black slacks and a white blouse, came out to tell us to prepare for landing. Oliver packed up his silver laptop, stowing it in his brown soft leather briefcase.
A few minutes later, we began our descent, and the sun’s rays blasted through the window as we exited the cloudbank. I squinted, pulling down the built-in white shade, relieved to see the weather prediction was correct. Once we landed, the captain exited the cabin to open the door.
I stood up, adjusting my yellow sweater and smoothing my blue jeans with my hands. From my purse, I took out my sunglasses and slipped them on to ward off the bright sunlight as we left the plane. A blast of heat hit me, immediately causing sweat to bloom on my skin.
Oliver had discarded his sweater before he stood up from his seat, and I wished I had done the same. A black SUV was waiting on the tarmac, and our large Louis Vuitton suitcase was loaded into the back while we slipped inside. Vlad and Brenda, our security detail, took the seat behind us.
Our driver, a large man with a pug nose and ice-blue eyes, sat up front. His bulging muscles strained at his gray sports jacket, making me wonder how many of them he’d torn. We were driven to a marina where a small boat was waiting to transport us to Fox Island.
“We forgot the suitcase,” I said, a hint of panic in my voice, as Oliver helped me onto the deck of the small white boat. He chuckled, a low, soothing sound.
“We’re not staying on the island. The suitcase will be taken to our room at Diamond Square St. Croix.”
“You own a hotel here?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“A resort, really. Plenty to do there, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the beach,” he replied with a knowing smile.
I tore at my sweater, yanking it over my head and tying it around my waist as the captain fired up the motor on the boat. The breeze felt incredible against my skin as we stood on the deck, the boat chugging through the turquoise water. I tilted my head upward, soaking in the sun on my face.
“You should put on sunscreen. The sun is fiercer than in New York,” Oliver advised, his tone gentle but insistent.
“I don’t burn that easily,” I protested, waving a dismissive hand.
“You have fair skin,” he reminded me.
“Stop being a mother hen,” I teased, rolling my eyes.
I glanced over at Vlad, who was trying to stifle a smile, and then back at Oliver. He just shook his head and grabbed my hand, kissing the back tenderly. The island came into view a few minutes later, a long stretch of sandy beach disappearing into a grove of leafy palm trees. Two boats loaded with supplies sat anchored on the dock that jutted out into the water.
The heat was getting to me, and I wished we had stopped at the hotel so I could have changed into shorts. I wiped at a trickle of sweat as it leaked down my cheek, feeling sticky and uncomfortable. Oliver, on the other hand, looked cool and composed, his shirt barely showing any signs of sweat.
“I need air conditioning, stat,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.