Page 61 of My Best Friend's Earl
Hell, perhaps she’d never marry. Constance and her cousins could take over the bookshop when her parents moved closer to Betsy—perfect Betsy, with her beautiful family. Constance could be the spinster aunt with the unflagging energy needed to run a business. The aunt with the unique stories.
It wouldn’t be a bad life.
One day she might even fall in love again. Who knew what the future held.
All of this would have been easier if he’d been a passing fancy, like watercolors or quilting.
Instead, it seemed the only way to get past her fascination with Oliver was to throw her whole self into it. Wallow in him happily, and let the rest of the world disappear.
So, she did the only thing that made sense. She kissed him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Follow your heart, and urge him to follow his
How was the taste of her so familiar, while simultaneously being wildly new? Would it always be like this between them? Oliver pulled Constance across the short span of the carriage to sit beside him, and she came willingly.
Willingwas too small a word for it. She was as eager as him. Being on the receiving end of Constance’s welcome unleashed emotions he’d never experienced before. Oliver smiled against her mouth and felt her smile in return.
Bubbles of giddiness pushed at his chest. Part of him wanted to roar in triumph. Another part silently thumbed his nose at Dorian’s claim that Oliver was emotionally repressed. After all, he’d confessed his desire to the luscious woman in his arms, and this was the result. Not repressed at all.
Constance leaned back, tugging him down with her to the seat.
Logistical complications rose as quickly as his cock. The bench wasn’t long enough for them to fully lie down. And God, he wanted to feel her beneath him more than anything. Desperate prayers flew toward heaven that Constance was correct and the Hollands planned to leave them alone.
Bracing himself above her, Oliver’s eyes nearly rolled backin his head when she anchored one leg around his hip and brought him down between her thighs.
The incredible bounty that was this woman spread out like a feast below him. The blue velvet seat acted as the perfect foil for her wild curls. It was enough to make a man wish for some sort of artistic talent, so he could capture her exactly like this. Eyes dark with desire, flushed cheeks, lips plumped and damp from his kisses.
“How long do you think we have until we reach the cottage?” His voice was rougher than he’d ever heard it.
In answer, she offered a wicked smile. “Long enough, I hope.”
Wait. Did she want to… now? Here? Sweat broke out on his brow. Shit, he’d have to tell her. Otherwise, she’d have no way to understand the awful showing he’d make of this.
And he would. At least at first. Maybe his enthusiasm would make up for lack of technique. Acutely aware of the way his erection pressed against the fall of his breeches, Oliver cleared his throat. “Constance? You should know something.”
She froze. “I’m sorry. Did I misread your intentions?” Red suffused her face as she shifted to sit up.
“No, not at all. God. If I could, I’d keep you in bed for the next week.”
She relaxed back on the seat. “Then what is it? If we want to be together like this, I fail to see… oh.”
Before she could reach her own conclusion—and God knew she could hop like a rabbit from one disastrous scenario to the next—Oliver gathered his courage.
“I’m a virgin,” he said at the same time she asked, “You have the pox, don’t you?”
They gaped at one another. “What?” they chimed in unison.
This time, he thumped back on the seat and she sat upright again, blowing a curl off her face.
“How are you a virgin?” Fascination and a healthy dose of disbelief coated her words.
“I’ve been engaged my whole life. Everyone expected my bride to be a virgin, but not me, which isn’t fair. And knowing who I’d marry meant opportunities with other women felt like a betrayal.”
Inching closer, Constance gave him the soft and dewy-eyed smile usually reserved for babies and small animals. “You’re really the most marvelous man, aren’t you? Then, why now? Why me?”
How could she ask that as if it were a real question? He traced a finger over the full curve of her cheek, marveling at her soft skin. “Because, with my conscience clear on the engagement, I can finally admit how desperate I am for you. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”
