Chapter 17. Ophelia #3
I’m exhausted. A night of dreams about Laura and the forest have left me feeling worse than I did when I went to bed.
“I have to leave in half an hour for my flight.”
“Okay,” I croak, trying to keep my tone cheerful. “That’s okay.”
Something in his expression tells me there’s more.
“Brendan has my father on CCTV about five hundred yards from our house.”
Dread punches me in the gut.
“In New York?”
“Yeah. Last night. He’s masked, but it’s definitely him.”
“Shit, Alex.”
“There’s security at the house, but …”
“I’m glad you’ll be there soon,” I say, heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth, trying to process this snippet of news.
I really, really need Alex and his sisters to come out of this unharmed.
I splash my face with cold water, mildly horrified by my own reflection.
If I was being kind, I’d say Alex and I have both looked a little …
disheveled, lately. Only, he’s pulling it off.
His hair is messy in a hot, bedhead kind of way.
The tiredness on his face makes him look older—sexier—and the whole grumpy, broody vibe he has going on is only making me more flustered.
Me? Not pulling it off so nicely. The color of my skin has gone beyond paper white and into the blue spectrum, and I’ve prodded at the lonely hair on my chin for so long it’s now a spot.
But when I return to the bedroom and sit against the pillows, Alex looks at me like I’m everything he’s ever hoped for and more.
The mattress dips under the heavy weight of him, and his hands land either side of my head. He hovers over me, all parted lips and long, dark lashes as he drinks in the sight of my tired, too small camisole.
I’ll never get bored of this view.
His work laptop chimes nonstop from the side table, until he leans over and slams the lid shut with so much enthusiasm that I can’t contain my laugh.
“How is the world of private jets and stock market crystal balls?” I ask, while my pulse drums in my throat. I wonder if I’ll ever stop having this visceral reaction to him, the same reaction I had the first day I met him. Like I’ve wandered right into his trap but never want to leave.
I’m putting wallpaper and ugly furniture into this trap, making it a home.
He’s playful despite the tiredness around his eyes and the darkness that weighs him down. He tugs his hoodie over his head, tossing it aside and falling back down onto two thick forearms. My brain has left the building. “My crystal ball is proving quite useful.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nuzzles my neck, inhaling my scent. He’s hard against my thigh. “Mmhmm.”
“And what does it say?” I ask, expecting him to tell me some mind-numbing shit about supply chains and staff turnover rates.
“That you should ride my face.”
I laugh in surprise, looping my hands round the back of his neck. A fire burns somewhere in my lower stomach. “And?”
“And then my dick.”
I wiggle my hips beneath him, turning his next exhale into a quiet growl. “Hm. Doesn’t sound like it’s very helpful with the stock markets. Might be broken.”
He hooks his leg between mine, flipping us so I’m straddling him. “Baby, I haven’t given a shit about the stock market—or anything else for that matter—since the day I found out you own stockings.”
His hands encircling my waist, he slides me back a few inches and bends my knee so that his thigh presses, hard and firm, between my legs. I can’t help my smile. It’s like our first night together, the first time we finally gave in.
It feels like we’ve come such a long way, and somehow no distance at all. Still in love, still just out of reach of a happy ending.
Oh God. I’m going to miss him.
I’d take Alex in any form I can get him; if it has to be video calls and nights stolen from his airport layovers, then so be it, but I won’t pretend it doesn’t gut me that we won’t get to wake up beside each other like all our friends in relationships do.
He runs his thumb across my jaw, tender and reverent like he always is with me. “What’s going on in that head, Twist?”
I let out a shaky exhale, pushing out all my negative thoughts with it.
I don’t want to sully our last half hour with my God-given pessimism.
I roll my hips against him, pulse sticky, stomach clenching.
“I’m thinking it could be really dangerous to disobey the crystal ball. Don’t want to tempt fate.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, hands gripping my thighs so hard that it sends a delicious, warm pain through my lower half. “Sounds sensible,” he drawls, playing along. “For safety reasons, you should come on my face.”
“And your dick.”
“You’re a real beacon for the community.”
“Exactly,” I say. My laughter turns into a yelp as he slides his hands under my thighs and drags me toward him until my knees are either side of his head.
He pauses slightly, before a soft laugh tickles my inner thigh. “You know, when Harwood has me picturing my happy place, it’s right here.”
And with that casual comment that feels anything but casual in the way it buries itself deep into my heart, he tightens his arms around my thighs and makes me forget everything.