Chapter Twenty-Four – Rose
ROSE
Sneaky Bastard
I looked up as Oliver walked in from the bathroom, securing a towel around his waist. I glared at him, and he raised one eyebrow in question.
“What’s that look for?” he asked, running his hand through his hair. “Three orgasms not enough for you, princess?”
I wanted to wring his neck every time he called me that.
I was hoping that he’d give up if I stopped whinging about it, so I was letting it pass for now.
He was going to call me ‘princess’ whether I liked it or not, so it was just better if I saved my energy for a battle that I stood a chance at winning.
“This is not what I came here for. I came for Bertha.” I eyed the dildo on the bedside table.
Well, at least he hadn’t used it. Not that he hadn’t tried, but after a swift explanation that Bertha is a tool, not a toy, he gave up and used himself instead.
“I said I’d give it to you—I never specified what it was I was giving.”
Semantics, semantics.
“And, once again, you consented.”
Oh, look, more semantics.
“I never said I didn’t,” I grumbled, leaning over and reaching for my phone. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a fucking animal? I can’t believe I had to run away from you just to make you stop groping me.”
“Run away? Rose, you locked the bloody bathroom door. From the outside.” He sat on the bed next to me, fixing me with an amused look. “Not your finest moment.”
“I panicked. I might break if we have sex again.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Must you?” I muttered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He grabbed my phone out of my hand and put it back on the bedside table, then climbed over me, lacing his fingers through mine and pressing my hands against the headboard so I couldn’t escape. “Do I have to keep going until you compliment me?”
“I don’t think you have enough stamina to fuck me until I compliment you,” I said, completely deadpan.
Oliver stared for a moment before laughing out loud. “I feel like that has less to do with my stamina and more to do with your lack of intent to compliment me.”
“You’re a smart cookie.”
“Hey, look at that—a compliment!”
Shit.
“It was sarcastic,” I drawled. “If I compliment you, then you might accidentally think I like you. That would be a tragedy.”
He grinned, drawing his face closer to mine. “The worst thing ever.”
My heart skipped at his wide smile, and I waved our clasped hands. “Move. I need to pee.”
With a chuckle, Oliver rolled off me and dropped onto the other side of the bed. I got up and shuffled into the adjoining bathroom, flapping my hand in front of me to disperse some of the steam left from his shower.
The shower.
Huh.
Well, that wasn’t clean anymore.
I did my business and brushed my damp hair using the brush Oliver had given me earlier. I’d almost whacked him when he’d pulled out a backpack of necessities after he’d led me to this cottage on the estate, but it’d ended up coming in surprisingly useful.
A hairbrush, shampoo, snacks, water… it was hardly the end of the world, but this sneaky bastard had always intended on getting me into bed tonight. He’d tried to deny it, but this little bag of tricks gave him away.
I walked back into the bedroom, adjusting my towel, and grabbed my hairband from the bedside table so I could plait my hair. Oliver was lounging on the bed with his head propped up on his hand, and his gaze followed me as I moved around the room.
“Going somewhere?” he asked when I grabbed my bra.
I eyed him. “Um, home?”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“And?”
“It’s pitch-black out there.”
“Ah. Don’t worry, I’m more likely to get attacked by a badger than a person.” I paused. “I’d rather the person, though. Badgers are feral little fucks.”
His eyes darkened at my words. “I’d prefer neither. Stay here.”
I froze, holding the unclasped straps at my waist. “What?”
“Stay here,” he repeated.
“I didn’t even stay with you the night we met, and I liked you then. What makes you think I’ll stay now?”
He sat up. “Then I’ll go back to the main house and come and get you in the morning.”
“No, that’s too much of a hassle. I’ll just go now. It won’t take me long to get home.” I dropped my chin to focus on my bra, but it was yanked out of my hands, and Oliver’s arms snaked around me from behind.
“Stay,” he murmured, brushing his lips over the sweet spot just behind my ear. “I really will leave if you want me to, but I don’t like the thought of you driving home this late by yourself.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have kept me here this long.” I prodded his hands.
“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.” He pressed his face into the side of my neck and squeezed me back against him. “So, stay? Please?”
Who was this clingy Oliver?
And why did I like it?
What was wrong with me?
I sighed, succumbing to his pleas. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
“Do you want me to go?” He nuzzled his face into my neck, and my heart skipped a beat.
No.
I didn’t. I didn’t want him to go at all.
For one night, I wanted to give in to my actual feelings. I wanted to stop pretending that I absolutely hated him. I wanted to let myself feel what it would be like to stay in his arms, what it would be like if we could have a normal relationship.
It was a dangerous thing to do, and I knew that. Fantasising about things I couldn’t have was a one-way ticket to some serious heartache, but right now, I didn’t care.
More to the point, I didn’t want to care.
“If you promise to actually let me sleep, then I suppose you can stay,” I replied softly, running my hands along his arms. “And if you ever tell anyone I gave into your cute, clingy act…”
“You’ll punch me.”
“Good, good.” I spun in his arms. “But I have no pyjamas.”
“Neither do I,” he replied, grinning. “Don’t tell me you’re shy.”
I rolled my eyes and removed myself from his hold. “Don’t be daft. I need to tell my parents I won’t be home tonight.”
“That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear a grown woman say.”
I grabbed my phone, sitting on the edge of the bed, and poked my tongue out at him. “I’m sorry some of us still live with our parents. Not all of us can inherit a dukedom and vast estate from our grandparents.”
“Technically,” he said, pulling off the towel. “I also live with my mother.”
Huh. He did, didn’t he?
“Does she know you won’t be home tonight?” I raised my eyebrows at him.
“She doesn’t care.” He snorted as he pulled on his boxers. “Besides, I just told her to stay out of my private life, so if I told her I wasn’t going back to the main house, she’d probably ask me what the hell I’m telling her for.”
That sounded exactly like something Eleanor would say to him.
“Here.” He tossed me his t-shirt, and I stared at it. “You want something to wear while you sleep, right?”
“I…” The fabric was soft to the touch, and I held it close. “Yeah. Thanks.”
His lips twitched into a tiny smile, and I quickly pulled it over my head. It had a distinct tropical scent, a bit like mangoes and pineapple, and I paused to sniff it.
“I’m slightly jealous that you’re sniffing the t-shirt and not me.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said. “What fabric softener do you use?”
Oliver cocked his head to the side, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I like the scent of it, obviously.”
“Yes, obviously.” He paused. “I don’t know. Do I look like I do laundry?”
Of course, he didn’t do laundry. Such a menial task was far too below his noble station.
“I’ll find out,” he said after throwing himself on the bed. “Do you have a preference?”
“Hm? For what?”
“A side of the bed.”
I snorted, sitting down and unlocking my phone. “Yes, I’ll take the middle.”
He groaned, tugging on the covers. “You’re a starfisher? I should have known.”
I merely grinned as I shot a message to my mother telling her I wouldn’t be home, then quickly flipped to Isa’s chat.
ME: If my mother asks, I’m at your place tonight.
Her response was immediate.
ISA: But I’m on duty tonight at the emergency vet.
ME: Does my mother know that?
ISA: I can’t imagine why she would.
ME: Then just tell her I camped at yours.
ISA: …Are you shagging the duke again?
ME: Not right this second, no.
ISA: Well, if I have to work all night, at least one of us should get some.
ME: Is that a yes?
ISA: Will I cover for you while you hop, skip, and jump all over that handsome devil of a duke and I’m making a bread-loving dog puke his guts up? Yes.
ME: You could have just said yes. I didn’t need the life story.
ISA: I hope you dream of a puking dog.
ME: I love you, too.
“That’s enough of her,” I muttered, instantly putting my phone down.
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Isadora?”
“She’s making a dog throw up because it stole bread,” I answered, sliding under the covers he was holding out. “Not the visual I wanted before I sleep.”
“So, you thought you’d share it with me?”
“Sharing is caring.”
He groaned and scooted across the bed, tugging me against his body.
I rolled towards him, and as his arm slipped under my neck, I rested my head on his chest and snuggled into his side.
A low hum vibrated through his body as he wrapped his arm around me and our legs tangled together, practically locking us in place.
My arm lay over his stomach, and he took my hand with his, gently toying with my fingers.
This… was annoyingly nice.
Oliver was warm, and the rhythmic beating of his heart under my head was soothing. I almost felt as if I’d fall asleep right away if I closed my eyes right now.
Which was bad.
Very, very bad.
I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and wriggled in even closer to him, and he chuckled quietly.
“Now who’s being clingy and cute?” he murmured into my hair.
“Shut your stupid mouth.” I pressed my face into his chest as he continued laughing, squeezing me against him.
“I would, but you told me I had to let you sleep.”
Of course I did.
I was not built for all-nighters.
And I had to operate heavy machinery tomorrow.
“Otherwise, you’d keep me up all night, you insatiable potato.”
He laughed, his whole body shaking. “Insatiable potato? That’s a new one.”