Chapter Twenty-Nine – Rose
ROSE
The Way We Feel
“ W hat do you want?”
Oliver leant against my beloved Ramona, arms folded across his chest, gaze laser-focused on me. “To see you. That was my plan before Susan roped me in to being her errand boy for the afternoon.”
“You saw me,” I replied, unlocking my van and throwing my bag in the passenger seat. “You tricked me, remember?”
“Hm, did I trick you, princess? Or did I just play you at your own game?”
I stared at him. “I think I preferred it when you were in London.”
“Why? Have I been distracting you?”
“What? While you’ve been gardening and carrying heavy shit around, shirtless? No, you’ve not drawn my attention at all.” I slammed the door and stepped back. “Why are you still here?”
“I told you already. I want to see you.”
I motioned from my head to my toes. “Take a good look, then let me go home.”
“Rose.”
“What?”
“Are you mad at me? Did I do something to upset you?”
Yes.
You told me not to touch other men, then spent that following evening being pictured with tons of other women right before texting me goodnight. Then you came back and spoke to me like nothing happened, even flirting with me.
“I’m perpetually upset with you. I can’t imagine how you could do anything more to upset me at this point,” I replied, looking away from him. “Isn’t that the whole basis of our relationship? You piss me off, I get angry and upset, and we repeat that cycle.”
“All right, I’ve upset you,” he said astutely. “Can you tell me what I did so I can fix it?”
“Unless you can time travel, you can’t fix it.” I walked around the van and opened the door, and he swiftly followed me.
Oliver grabbed the door before I could close it and leant into me. “Rose, let’s talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” I jabbed the keys into the ignition. “Please unhand Ramona.”
He stepped closer instead. “Meet me at the cottage.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Don’t be a brat. It’s only cute when you’re naked.”
I stilled. “Go fuck yourself, Oliver.”
“I will, but I’ll think of you the whole time.
” He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the inside of my wrist that sent a tingle across my skin.
“Go to the cottage. I’m going to follow you, and we’re going to talk, because we’re adults and that’s what adults do.
We can either have this conversation in private at the cottage or on your doorstep. Which one would you prefer?”
“Wanker,” I hissed, snatching my hand back. “Fine. But I’m only staying for half an hour.”
He stepped away, satisfied with my response, and gently closed the door. I clenched my jaw and turned the key, bringing the van to life.
What a prick.
What a bastard.
What an absolutely toe-curling, dominating, argumentative, bossy little twat he was.
What did it say about me that I liked it, huh?
Maybe he was right.
The chicken therapy really wasn’t working out for me. ‘Bock-bock-bock’ wasn’t exactly a tried-and-true coping method, after all.
I drove out of the village and towards the Hanbury Estate. When I got there, I took the turn for the hidden side entrance Oliver had shown me last time and followed the track down to the cottage. It was secluded and the perfect place for us to meet away from prying eyes.
It was like the one place we could just… be .
He pulled up behind me and got out of his car, quickly unlocking the front door with the key from under the flowerpot. I stayed in the van, pouting, and he came over and opened the door.
“Do I have to carry you in there?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve manhandled me like that,” I grumbled. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“You never want to talk to me, yet you do. Won’t it be more comfortable to sulk inside, though?” His eyes twinkled as he pulled out my keys and grabbed my hand. He tugged me out of the van, and I let myself be taken from the vehicle and guided towards the cottage.
Once inside, he locked the door behind us and put the keys on a little side table. He pushed me through to the living room and plopped me down on the sofa before sitting next to me and making me look at him.
“Tell me what I did.” He cradled my chin in his hand. “Are you upset about Saturday?”
I said nothing.
“Was it what I said to you on the phone? If so, I’m sorry.” He brought his face closer to mine. “I was jealous, but that’s not your problem, that’s mine. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
“I don’t care about that,” I muttered, letting the weight of my head rest in his hand. “I already told you that was hot.”
His lips twitched. “Then what is it? Did I forget to reply to you? Miss a call? Take too long to come and see you?”
Again, I said nothing.
What could I say? No matter how I worded it in my mind, it sounded petty and childish.
His jealousy was hot, but my jealousy was ridiculous.
That was girl math.
I didn’t make the rules.
“Ahh. Did you see pictures of the event on Saturday night?”
I dropped my gaze.
“Rose.” My name was but a murmur on his lips as he touched the tip of his nose to mine. “Are you jealous, princess?”
“Jealous? In your dreams,” I lied, even as my stomach twisted. “Why would I be jealous of your almost ex-fiancée hanging off your arm and hanging out with your mother?”
He laughed quietly, then cupped my face, laying his palms on my cheeks. He forced me to meet his eyes, and my gaze hardened as it skittered across his soft smile.
“Let it go,” he said softly. “Whatever it is you need to say to me, let it out, okay?”
I shoved his hands away from me and scooted back on the sofa, putting some distance between us.
“You spent all that time on the phone to me telling me not to touch other men, not to laugh at them, not to smile at them, and what do I see the next day? You doing just that with other women! Hours later!”
The words spilled out of me. Every ounce of jealousy, every inch of frustration, every little drop of anger and sadness that was coiled inside of me bubbled up and tipped over, and I tore into him for his hypocrisy, for his gall, for his sheer audacity.
And he took it.
He sat there, silently, listening. He didn’t argue, he didn’t try to make me stop, he didn’t do anything. He simply listened, taking every emotional word I tossed his way.
And it made it harder.
Because I knew he cared.
He cared about how he’d made me feel.
That was the worst part. With every second of patience that he gave me, my words grew a little quieter, a little calmer, my anger a little weaker. Even though I was repeating myself over and over again, saying the same thing but in different ways, he never once told me to stop.
When I finally did, he merely looked at me with a small smile and said, “Feel better now?”
I couldn’t help but nod, because I did.
He opened his arms in a wordless question, and despite myself, I moved closer to him. I fell stiffly against his chest, and he wrapped those warm arms around me. He tucked my head under his chin, cradling the back of it with his large hand, and we sank back into the sofa cushions together.
I closed my eyes, resting my legs over his and curling into his embrace.
I’d missed this almost as much as I’d missed us trading barbs at one another.
This part of us that nobody else could know about, this soft, stillness that sent waves of comfort through me, was what I’d been craving after seeing those pictures.
I’d been craving him.
The gentle reassurance of his grip, not so tight that I couldn’t breathe, but tight enough that I knew there was no way he’d let me go.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re absolutely right in everything you said. I asked things of you when it was a standard that I didn’t hold myself to, and that isn’t fair.”
“I get it. That’s your world. I just—”
“There is no ‘my’ world, Rose. There’s just a world, and we’re both in it.
” He nuzzled into my hair, drawing me even closer to him.
“If it makes you feel any better, I was thinking of you the whole time. Mostly that you’d wonder where all the plants were, if everyone was in heels or secretly wearing trainers under their dresses, or why all these people were bidding on flashy jewels or holidays when you could spend that money helping kids get closer to nature. ”
A smile curved my lips. “Did you spend any money on flashy jewels or holidays?”
“No, I bought my mother some trainers to put on under her gown because, and I quote, ‘Rose said heels are fucking stupid, and you know what? I agree with her.’”
I laughed, relaxing a bit more. “Heels have their place… like dinner tables.”
“Well, there were no dinner tables, just fancy canapes and shit,” he replied, chuckling. “So, Mum got her trainers, and I decided to use my money to invest in some local businesses instead. How’s that?”
I snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting fond of Hanbury.”
“Hm, maybe I am.” He tilted my head back and hovered his lips over mine. “I’m sorry I upset you,” he whispered, sealing his apology with a gentle kiss.
I leant up into it, resting my hand on the side of his neck. “Jealousy is my problem, right?”
He shook his head. “My jealousy is my problem, and your jealousy is my problem. You wouldn’t have to be jealous if I didn’t make you feel that way, so I’ll do better in the future, so it doesn’t happen again.”
The future .
Was there really such a thing for us?
Instead of saying the words out loud, I kissed him, falling deeper under his spell.
Everything about him was gentle, from the touch of his lips on mine to the way his hand cradled my head while the other roamed across my back.
It was all soft and slow, each touch filled with an emotion that almost made me feel dizzy.
Ah.
I really was in love with him.
“Oli,” I whispered.
“Let me fix what I did wrong,” he breathed back, touching his forehead to mine. “Let me show you why you have no reason to be jealous of any of those women.”
I hesitated, then nodded, and he stood up. He scooped me up into his arms in a princess hold and headed for the stairs, carrying me up to the bedroom. When we reached it, he gently laid me on the bed before leaning his body over mine.
His gaze roved over me. “God, I missed you.”
Then he kissed me. It was just the same as downstairs—slow and languid, and he let out a gentle hum as our tongues met, as if he’d never tasted anything so sweet.
I was completely intoxicated by him. Everything from his voice to his touch to his mere presence was an aphrodisiac, and I was a goner, completely drowning in whatever magic he possessed.
This was hardly the first time I’d been in this situation, but as his hands roamed across my body, it felt worlds apart from any other time. Before it’d always been about the pleasure, about us teasing and toying with one another, seeing who could break and tip over the edge of no return.
This…
This was anything but.
This was a gentle exploration. He moved down my body, removing my clothes, kissing and touching me like I was something to be revered. My skin pebbled under his careful caress, and as he moved his head between my legs, I clenched my stomach in anticipation.
His tongue was gentle but intense, like he was tasting me, savouring me, almost. He left no part of me untouched as he brought me to the edge of a shaking orgasm and held me in place while I tipped over.
His kisses on the insides of my thighs were loving whispers, and every brush of his fingertips against my skin were awe-filled strokes.
He leant over me, bringing me back to sanity with a deep kiss. I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, and he pushed into me, slowly burying himself into the deepest part of me. A gasp escaped my lips as he filled me and pleasure tickled out through my nerves.
This was slow.
Each thrust was lazy but controlled. Each probe of his tongue against mine was cautious but greedy. Each rapid thump of my heart synced perfectly with his, and I understood exactly what he was trying to tell me.
Only me.
I was the only one who got to feel this touch from him.
I was the only one who got to see, feel, breathe, this version of Oliver de Havilland.
Because we felt the same .
The unsaid words clung to us with the same fervour we held each other. They cloyed at my throat, and I kissed him harder to keep them from coming up.
I couldn’t tell him.
I couldn’t tell him that I was in love with him.
I was too scared to.
Even as he held me tightly, fucked me with a gentleness that was foreign to me, kissed and nipped at my neck… I just couldn’t do it.
I bit the inside of my cheek as he rocked inside me, drawing my orgasm to the surface.
I was powerless to fight anything, and I clamped down around him, holding him firmly inside me as I let go.
My entire body tensed and trembled, and Oliver’s guttural groan against my neck preceded the warmth I felt spill inside me.
Ah.
Ah, what do I do?
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, and I held him against me. I couldn’t let him see me like this. I’d never felt as loved or special as I did just now, and I hated myself for it.
Hated it because I knew I had to let him go.
Because this… we…
“Stop,” he whispered, kissing the curve of my ear. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop thinking about it, princess.”
“I—”
“Stop.” He pressed his lips to mine, swallowing any argument I had. “Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow. For now, let’s clean up, then you can come and fall asleep on me. Yeah?”
“Can we eat first?” I asked quietly. “I haven’t had dinner.”
“Yeah. There’s food downstairs. I’ll make you something.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Pasta good?”
I nodded into his shoulder, lowering my legs from around his waist so he could get up.
We would clean up.
Eat.
Climb into bed.
Fall asleep together.
For what would be the last time.
It had to be.