Page 82 of The Spring in My Heart

His gaze grows warm.

“That was smart of you.”

“It didn’t work all the time. A lot of times, I would have to wait for her to go to sleep.” He laughs again, the sound so penetrating and contagious I smile.

“Didn’t that cut into your sleep time?” I grab a vase and scissors from the drawer.

“What sleep time? It was hard as hell, but I don’t sleep much anyway. My uncle used to say you get to sleep a lot when you’re dead.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “That sounds like an exhausting way of living. Doesn’t your body ever protest?” My gaze drifts over said body, and nothing seems to be hurting. It’s strong, tight, and well-kept.

“It’s protesting a little now. Can I kiss you now, or do we need to wait for dessert?”

“We’re never going to get to dinner this way,” I say, tucking the flowers into the vase and walking around the island.

“We will.” He puts his arms around me. “I’m not letting all this effort go to waste.”

Does he mean my body or the plates set out? His lips crash over mine, and I don’t think. I just open my mouth and let him take charge.

He pulls back. “Maybe I’ll just eat you for dinner. I’m hungrier for you, anyway.”

“I’m okay with that.” I grab a handful of his shirt and pull him to me.

His hands slide down my back, tilting me up against him until we are flush again. With his mouth on mine and one hand on the back of my neck, he walks me back toward my bedroom.

I’m lost in the taste of his tongue, in the spicy notes of his cologne sneaking through my nostrils, overwhelming my senses. I’m barely aware of the hallway walls until I find myself pressed against one, the cold brick a bizarre contrast to the heat of his body pressed against mine.

Not until the backs of my legs touch the bed, and I feel the softness of the bamboo sheets against my calves, do I realize we are here.

Oliver’s eyes reflect the soft candle-flickering effect of the lights. I raise a hand to his cheek. He kisses the inside of my palm and runs his thumb over my lips, swollen for his kiss, craving more bruising. I slide my hand to his chest. Is his heart beating as fast as mine? He traps it there with both of his, looking at me like the world has faded away, and we are on an island together, alone.

My throat goes dry.

Still, he says nothing. And I’m rattled. So, I reach for the hem of his shirt and push it up, sliding it over his head, letting it land on the floor.

He doesn’t break eye contact, not even when I unbuckle his belt or when I pull his pants down. His thumbs hook on his underwear, and he discards them along with his pants and shoes, kicking all of it away from him.

I get my first glance at his thick, long cock. I wasn’t dreaming. It’s exactly what I remember, what I conjure when we’re pressed against each other. My mouth waters, almost feeling as it fills my mouth, dying for him to slide down my throat.

I find him smiling like he can read my thoughts. And his lips are on mine again.

I start inching toward the hem of my dress, but he stills me with his hands.

“No.”

His tone is soft, but it still booms against the silence.

I should’ve put music on. The silence is unnerving me. All I hear are our breaths.

I open my mouth to tell him that I need noise because the silence is making me nervous. He quiets me with his mouth near my ear.

“Cierra los ojos y solo siente.”

I want to tell him that I can’t just close my eyes and feel. I need to see it happen. He flicks his tongue on my earlobe, and the sensation bursts and flashes all over my body, heating my belly, making my nipples hard against his chest.

Ollie’s hands slide over my shoulders and down my arm as he kisses his way down my jaw. His lips brush mine, and he turns me so my back is to him, and his erection presses on my ass. I gasp at how hard he is and grind against him. His hand rustles over my dress, drawing circles with his fingers over my aching tits.

I moan.

---