Page 122 of The Unlikely Heir
I love all our in-jokes, which would be incomprehensible to anyone else.
It’s like we’re weaving our own private little world where only Oliver and I exist.
Sometimes I wish I could live permanently in that world.
“There are a few other things I love too,” I say.
“Such as?”
“I love…chocolate.”
He leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. “I love chocolate too,” he says.
I stretch up to kiss him properly, and we make out lazily, our tongues caressing each other gently, slowly exploring each other’s mouths. My hands roam over his body, feeling his muscles tense under my touch. I can feel his arousal growing, his hardening cock pressing against my thigh, and I can’t help but smile against his lips. I love that I’m the only one who gets to see Oliver like this. I get to see him when he gives up control.
This is making love like we have all the time in the world, like every second we spend together isn’t risking discovery, like we don’t have massive odds stacked against us.
It’s warm skin against warm skin and gentle touches. It’s our breaths turning ragged and uneven as touches grow firmer. It’s the incredible, indescribable sensation of his hot mouth on my neck, pressing kisses down my throat, his teeth grazing my collarbone, his tongue flickering over the skin he just kissed.
It’s his fingers pressing inside me, lighting me up from the inside.
It’s me straddling him, watching his face as I slide down on him, inch by inch. He moves in me in a slow rhythm, pumping my cock at the same speed, causing mindless moans to fall from my lips.
Oliver’s face is flushed, staring at me with those intense dark eyes, and I can see from the way he looks at me that he feels the same way I do.
This is so much more than just two guys hooking up.
Hell, this is more than just a standard relationship.
We’re in soulmate territory right now. When it feels like every beat of my heart is for him.
I never knew it was possible to feel this way about someone.
I can’t imagine my future without Oliver.
But equally, I can’t work out how Oliver and I will ever be able to fit our lives together in a way that makes sense.
ChapterThirty-Two
Oliver
I’m awakened by an urgent knocking on Callum’s bedroom door.
“Prime Minister.”
I don’t get a chance to answer before the door bursts open.
It’s Harley, head of my security. “Urgent phone call for you.” He hands me the phone like he’s holding a live grenade.
“Hello?”
“Where in hell’s name are you?” It’s Toby’s voice.
“I’m not at Downing Street at the moment,” I say.
“No kidding, Sherlock. How quickly can you get back? We’ve got a situation here. Our embassy in Nigeria was just attacked. Reports of multiple causalities and the gunmen have taken hostages.”
“Fuck. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
