Page 82 of My Best Friend's Earl
“Focus, Oliver,” she teased. “Everything is final now?”
“Yes, thank God.” When those fingers continued toward her core, she stopped him with one hand.
“Days of silence, while I waited to learn what you’ve done. Explain.” Every wicked impulse came out to play during these intimate moments with him. While Oliver’s hand stayed where she’d stopped it, Connie dipped one finger into her slick heat.
He went still, then shuddered when she painted her liquid arousal across his lower lip. “You promised me a full accounting, and I expect one,” she taunted playfully.
“Fuck, you’re brutal.” He licked his lips, then dropped a groaning kiss against her palm. Constance ran the pads of her fingers over the planes of the face she loved so well, trying to memorize him by touch alone.
“Thanks to some vague language on legal documents, I tricked Sir William into giving Althea the land by the river, separate from a dowry.”
She froze. “The river? But what about your canal?”
The kiss he offered to soothe her dismay was gentle. “And now it belongs to Althea and Wellsley. I’m going to be a partner in the canal, but the primary income is theirs. Until it’s built, he’ll work with the steward at my estate in Cornwall, so Althea can be near her sister. They’ll elope tonight to Scotland, then go straight to their new home.”
A swell of love made her eyes go misty. Constance framed his cheeks with her palms and poured every ounce of admiration for him into her next kiss. “You’re a good man, Oliver Vincent.”
“What I am, is yours.” Oliver clutched the top of her thigh, with his thumb achingly close to her molten center. Constance moved his hand to where she wanted it, and they groaned in unison.
“Connie, love. Fuck, you’re wet.”
Her answer was an inarticulate needy sound. But Oliver was, if nothing else, an equal match to her devious teasing. She’d demanded an explanation for his silence since their return to London. Even as his fingers explored her slick heat, he continued to speak—albeit with a shaking voice.
“Before they leave, Althea will expose Sir William as the bully he is and make it clear that she’s chosen Wellsley. But we both know people might still place blame on her.” His words ended in a moan as she fumbled with the front placket of his breeches, then gripped his cock.
“People always talk. What will you do about it?” Constance nocked his erection at her entrance, but he held himself there, letting the anticipation build to a nearly painful degree.
“I gave the biggest gossipmonger in London a juicier morsel.” Oliver slowly sank into her, inciting a moan at the delicious stretch. “Hell, speaking of juicy…”
So Oliver had been the one to tell Bixby of their affair.Connie’s laugh made her clench around him and stole his senses momentarily. “What did you tell him?”
“I’m in love with a bookseller who stole my heart and rearranged my perfectly ordered world into chaos.” Thrusts punctuated his words. “Chaos. You’re a tiny teacup-size tempest who upended all my plans, and I fucking adore you for it. And now everyone will know I’m mad for you.”
“I love you too. God, Oliver.” Each push of their bodies coming together inched her higher against the door and closer to bliss.
The delicious movements slowed and she nearly whimpered. “I’ll never tire of hearing that.” His voice was a rasp in the dark. “I asked for blind faith, and you gave it to me. You really do love me.”
“Except for that minute when I wanted to kill you.”
“When you’re holding my bloody wedding invitation, you’re right to question me. But then what did you do? You asked for an explanation. Thank you.”
“I only demand answers if I love you. Otherwise, I’d be off in a field dancing naked under the moon and asking the fates to curse you with genital lice for the rest of your life.”
Oliver rested his forehead against her shoulder. “If I’m ever fool enough to think I can predict what will come out of your mouth next, you’ll prove me wrong within seconds.”
She grinned, running gentle fingers through his hair. “As I recall, you like my chatter.”
He met her gaze. Now that her vision had adapted to the darkness, it was easier to make out his features. “I love your chatter. The way your brain works is a constant delight. So many thoughts, so many words. I don’t care if you’re speaking them, singing them, or screaming them. I’m here to listen.”
After that, she had to kiss him again. A loving, sweet kiss that immediately raged out of control. Oliver pinned her to the door with another deep thrust. “Say it again for me.”
A wide, joyful grin made her cheeks ache as she leaned her head against the wood, relishing how they moved together. “I love you, Oliver. I’m yours.”
“Mine. And I’m yours.”
Tension built in her muscles, tightening for that final flight into climax. “And you’re mine,” she repeated.
“Always. Now. Forever.” His breath grew choppy and the words came out strained as his pace turned nearly frantic.
