Chapter Seventeen #2
She came undone, sparks of pure pleasure dancing down her spine before skittering through her limbs.
Behind her, Oliver had his head buried in the junction between her shoulder and neck, pressing hot, desperate kisses onto her sensitive skin.
Boneless and at peace, she closed her eyes, only opening them once Oliver had bundled her in his arms.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Bed,” he said. “The night is young, Miss Darwish. And I intend for us to take advantage of as much of it as we can.”
*
Kalila was perfect in his arms. God, she was delicious. Her exposed skin was gorgeously flushed, and her pink lips begged to be ravished.
All in due time.
He placed her on the bed, stepping back to undress himself.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position, her attention lingering on his hands as he tugged at his neckcloth and undid his buttons.
For the first time in his life, a touch of shyness came over him as she watched his movements with an unreadable expression.
What are you thinking? he wondered as he dragged his shirt up an inch.
“Can I take that off?” she asked, as if reading his thoughts.
Oliver felt a smile pull at his lips as he dropped the handfuls of fabric and approached the foot of the bed. “If you insist.”
Kalila settled onto her knees, fingertips brushing the linen of his shirt. She pulled it off his body slowly, the act a form of sensual torture he had never experienced before. Instantly, he was made aware of his cock pushing against the fabric of his trousers.
Painfully aware.
After placing the shirt beside her, Kalila reached over to run her hands methodically over his bare chest. His muscles grew tense as she explored, desperate for her touch.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “Almost too beautiful, really.”
He chuckled, the sound graveled and rough. “Indeed? I could say the same about you.”
“Oh?”
Placing his hands on either side of her, Oliver leaned forward until mere inches separated them. “I am haunted by you, Kalila.”
“Ridiculous,” she said, her words betrayed by a crack in her voice.
Oliver moved to drag the fabric of her shirt upward while taking great care to ensure that she was as tortured by the grazing of linen against her skin as he had been.
Golden thighs were revealed, followed by the sinful juncture between them.
Her abdomen was slightly rounded, even as her hipbones jutted out.
Finally, her breasts came into view, small and lovely.
Clever, beautiful, sharp-witted, bright-eyed Kalila Darwish. Naked and hungry for him, just as he was for her.
“My God, Kalila,” he rasped. “Look at you.”
She did as she was told, glancing down before responding with an uncertain smile. “Will you not join me?”
Her murmured question spurred him into action, and he quickly discarded the remainder of his clothing under her curious, watchful gaze.
When he looked at her again, it was to find her focus concentrated on his erection.
Before he could speak, he caught sight of her teeth sinking into her full lower lip, and it was all he could do not to spend right then and there.
Steeling himself, he turned to rummage through a nearby drawer.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Oliver produced a French letter and presented it to her. “No risks.”
“Yes,” she breathed, relief evident on her pretty face. “No risks. How clever of you.”
“Clever?” Oliver repeated, positioning himself atop her once fully protected. “That’s more than a compliment coming from you, my clever girl.”
Kalila tugged him toward her, pressing her mouth against his in a delectable kiss.
He responded in kind before sucking and nipping down the pale length of her throat and along her collarbones.
Settling at her breasts, he took one pebbled nipple in his mouth, savoring the slight bucking of her hips beneath him even as she remained quiet as a mouse.
He shifted to her other breast. “Are you always this quiet?”
“Always,” she gasped. “It’s not—you.”
Still, he was able to tell exactly what she responded to. It was evident in the rise and fall of her chest, the flush that crept over her skin, the delicate arching of her hips. His hands found a tiny scar by her hip, barely visible in the firelight.
Truly, he was nothing if not a skilled microscopist.
“Where did this come from?” he asked, his mouth against her skin.
She lifted her head. “I fell out of a tree at Heatherden.”
“Heatherden?”
“My family’s home,” she explained, head falling back against the pillow as he trailed kisses across her abdomen.
Heatherden. Kalila hailing from a place called Heatherden sounded like something right out of a fairy tale.
And though she was sharply intelligent and analytical, it suited her.
It suited the dreaminess that sometimes overcame those dazzling hazel eyes and the tender, reverent way she ran her fingers through his hair.
Finally at his goal, Oliver pressed his mouth to her inner thighs, inching ever closer to the very center of her, spread before him like an offering. When he finally kissed the slick folds that were undoubtedly begging for attention, she tensed beneath him.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said, panting. “It’s just—new. Different.”
“And?”
“Do it again. Please.”
Oliver obliged, the feel of her against his tongue threatening to drive him to madness.
She tasted sweet and perfect and as if she belonged to him, and the very thought coaxed a satisfied groan from his throat as she began to writhe beneath him.
She wouldn’t last much longer and, truth be told, neither would he.
“Kalila,” he said, positioning himself over her until his weight was pushing her into the mattress, “I need you. I need to be inside you. Now.”
She shifted, the sensation of her nipples ghosting across his chest sending a shock of electricity through him. He stared down at her, arrested by the sight of her brilliant gaze. She nodded, and so he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly, carefully buried himself inside of her.
“Jesus Christ,” he ground out, forcing himself to stay still. “Kalila.”
She moved first, lifting her hips to pull him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.
He followed her lead, words spilling out of his mouth, asking her what she wanted, how she felt, what he could do for her.
As much as he was able, he paid attention to her every sigh and breath, wanting more than anything to make sure this felt like more than nothing.
Nothing was unacceptable. He would give her everything.
Reaching between their bodies, Oliver rubbed at the neediest part of her, a decision that had her arching in desperation beneath him. He persisted, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer. She was too wet, too warm, too perfect, and he was quickly approaching his breaking point.
“I’m so close,” she gasped, the sound going straight to his cock. “Oliver, I’m—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he felt her clench around him, felt her fingernails rake down his shoulders and her ankles drag along his sides.
He followed, coming with one final, deep thrust, her name falling out of his mouth like a strangled prayer.
After a moment’s stillness, Oliver rolled to the side, barely able to focus on the canopy above them.
Unnerved by her silence, he said, “Well?”
She responded with a dry, “Is there anything you aren’t good at?”
He laughed. “I’m a bad shot. I can’t fold napkins to save my life. And I very much doubt I could climb a tree, let alone fall out of one.”
For a beat, she only giggled. Then, a grave seriousness came over her. “Thank you.”
“Whatever for?”
“Not disappointing me,” she murmured. “And for being so kind.”
“I don’t think I was kind,” he said, pulling her against him. “In fact, I think I was very devilish indeed.”
Kalila shook her head against him before drifting off to sleep.
Oliver held her, surprised at how awake he was.
He glanced down at her, so defenseless now that she had let her guard drop, and marveled at how quickly things could change.
The Oliver of a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the idea of falling in love.
He would have felt a sharp twinge of sadness, but he would have rejected it nonetheless.
And he’d have had a whole host of reasons for doing so, as well.
Now, as he tucked a lock of dark hair behind Kalila’s ear, he became aware of two very important things.
One, that his fears had all but dissipated without his noticing. And two, that he was in love.
And he had been all along.