Chapter Twenty-One #2
“It’s too small,” she explained, “and really rather rickety.”
He smirked. “Are you afraid we’d break it?”
“Yes.” She placed her hands on either of his shoulders and gave him a soft push so that he lay flat on his back. “And I’ve experienced enough embarrassment in London to last me a lifetime.”
Beneath him, Oliver could feel the papers she’d used to explain her genius to him. God, she was clever. He could never dream of such cleverness.
Kalila stood to tug off her trousers in one abrupt motion. Oliver propped himself up on his elbows to watch, taking in the sight of her long legs and, of course, the gorgeous, promising juncture between her thighs.
She bent, tugging his boots off. Quickly, he helped her do away with his trousers, the removal of which left the both of them finally undressed.
Kalila straddled him once more, shuddering in silence as her wet folds came into contact with his hard cock.
Unable to withstand the lack of control, Oliver expertly flipped her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs.
He caught sight of her then, gorgeous curls spread out in a halo around her head, flushed body surrounded by her own clever work.
The very air he breathed was knocked out of him.
“Christ, Kalila,” he murmured, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
She did not respond, choosing instead to reach between their bodies to guide his length into her delicious heat.
Oliver entered her with care, watching as her breaths became short and her pupils dilated.
Kalila, as always, was quiet—making it his job to pay close attention to her every sigh to ensure that he was giving her everything she needed.
He moved in measured, luscious strokes, desperate to inject tenderness into every thrust. She arched beneath him, her fingers raking down his back.
“You feel so damned good,” he rasped. He fancied himself quite her opposite, unable to remain silent.
“So do you,” she whispered, the words leaving her lips on a soft, barely detectable moan.
Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise, but his wry response was lost to him as Kalila exerted a surprising amount of strength to switch their positions.
Oliver let out a soft oof as his back made contact with the scattered papers.
Kalila sat astride him, sinking onto his length, a long sigh leaving her petal soft lips.
“Good God,” Oliver groaned, running his hands up her body and brushing the pads of his thumbs against her pebbled nipples.
Above him, Kalila chased her pleasure, her hips moving in an erratic rhythm.
He could feel her clenching around him, so he rubbed firmly at her slick bud to help her along.
She gasped, leaning into the pressure. “Come for me,” he coaxed, wanting—needing—her to be the first to unravel.
After a few moments, her breathing hitched and she fell apart above him.
She let out a little cry, the noise betraying the force of her orgasm.
Her muscles pulsed around him, pushing him over the edge, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from vocalizing the words that were floating through his head.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Kalila slumped forward, palms pressed to his shoulders, her breath still coming in short. “I’m sorry.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”
“I was a little rough with you this time.”
Oliver rolled to his side, propping his head up with his hand. He gave her a wolfish grin, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “You’ll hear no complaints from me. In fact, I invite you to be as rough with me as you like.”
She blushed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Me, ridiculous? Never.”
Kalila studied him in that brilliant, intelligent way of hers before whispering, “I don’t want to subject you to what you suffered at the hands of your parents.”
Oliver frowned down at her, confused. “Why would you say that?”
“I said I’d come to resent you.”
“The moment you do—if you do—I’ll give it all up.”
“Give what up?” she asked, this time reaching up to push his hair out of his forehead.
Leaning into her touch, he said, “Science.”
Kalila’s went pale with horror. “No! I’d never let you do that. And—then you’d resent me, and we’d never win.” She let out a frustrated exhale. “I don’t want either of us to be miserable. That’s all.”
Oliver examined her, taking in her large eyes, her pretty lips, the beauty marks scattered around her collarbones. She was a vision. “Are you miserable now?”
Kalila considered his words for a moment before replying with a hushed, “No. Not now, not when you’re with me.”
His heart clenched at her words, which almost sounded like a declaration of devotion to his lovesick ears.
“Then,” he said, matching her tone, “I’ll have to make sure you never feel any differently.”
Her expression changed. She pressed her lips together in a firm line, and an analytical air came over her. “Either way, we are speaking in hypotheticals.”
“We are?”
“Aren’t we?” she countered. “Thinking you might fall in love isn’t the same as being in love, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. The only problem was that Oliver was in love and had been too much of a coward to tell her so. What seemed like a hypothetical to her was a full-blown fact to him—one that was dangerously close to falling out of his mouth.
He wondered about the hesitance that always seemed to bubble up when their conversations turned to love and the future.
He understood Kalila well enough to know that she wouldn’t give him the time of day if her fondness for him didn’t warrant it.
And considering how much time she spent with him, he’d hazard that her affection for him ran quite deep.
All he needed to know was if that affection had any chance of turning into love.
He’d alluded to a connection existing between them in the shed, had told her that he liked her that very same evening—he didn’t understand why she couldn’t simply—
She’s protecting herself from heartbreak.
Of course she was. Kalila was always guarded, always protective. The hurt she’d experienced nine years ago had clearly left its mark, rendering her unable to see what was so obvious even to him.
“Let me take you somewhere,” he said.
Kalila knit her brow, bewildered. “Now?”
“Now.”