Page 34 of Forever & Again
Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”
“His nose,” Grace repeated, with as much confidence as she could muster. If she treated the remark as perfectly ordinary,perhaps it would be. “He broke it when he was a boy, so it leaned slightly to the left.”
Oliver raised his glass again, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “I am sure most noses are not perfectly straight.”
“Yours is,” she breathed.
“What?” His brow lifted, but his eyes softened, kindled with something that sent a heat spiraling low in her stomach. Perhaps it was the brandy. Perhaps it was simply him. But whether it was drink or the fire in his gaze, the warmth blurred her thoughts and loosened her tongue. But since Grace was now fairly certain this was all just a very unusual dream, it didn’t much matter.
“Everything about your face is perfect.” The confession fell from her lips, completely unchecked. “It is, quite frankly, the most infuriating thing about you.”
A surprised laugh escaped Oliver’s chest. “My sincerest apologies,” he smiled, setting his glass aside. “I shall do my best to mar it somehow.”
Grace leaned in, her hand rising almost of its own accord. She traced the edge of his jaw, startled by the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips. How could it be that even in a dream, the nearness of him was this intoxicating?
He drew in a sharp breath but didn’t pull away. The hitch in his breath and the heat in his eyes coaxed her further, her fingers sliding higher and slipping behind his ear to gently curl around a lock of his hair.
“That would be a shame,” she whispered.
“Grace,” His eyes fell shut, his voice low and thick. “I think I am going to leave now.”
“Why?” She withdrew her hand, and the sudden absence of her touch snapped his gaze back to hers.
“If I stay,” he said quietly. “You may say or do something that you will regret in the morning.”
“Oh, Ollie.” She leaned closer, her breath mingling with his. He was so near that the only thought in her mind was how it would feel to close the distance. “I am so inebriated I am unlikely to remember any of this in the morning.”
Oliver drew in a shaky breath, and she could see his resolve slowly starting to crumble, though he didn’t lean in. “That is another reason I should go.”
“Please do not pretend that you are too much of a gentleman to steal a kiss from a young lady in a vulnerable state.”
A flicker of pain crossed his eyes. “That is not who I am.”
“What if I want you to be?” Grace’s voice softened, almost pleading. Oliver’s eyes searched her face as if he were looking for any bit of truth in what she said. “Does it not matter what I want?”
Grace’s throat tightened. She had never thrown herself at a man before, but she would have thought it would have been much easier, especially in her own dream. “Alright, Oliver. What do you want?”
Oliver leaned in slightly, and every nerve in her body was keenly aware of how little space remained between them. She could taste the brandy on his breath. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the warmth of his lips—
He turned away, his mouth brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I want to make sure you remember the first time I kiss you.”
Grace pulled back in shock. Her heart was pounding painfully in her ears, and the moment suddenly felt much too real. “What do you mean thefirsttime?”
Oliver shook his head as he stood to his feet. “I should go,” he said, his hands clenched at his side.
Grace could see the war behind his eyes, a battle between desire and restraint. And though she knew she should, shecouldn’t seem to muster up any admiration for his current victory.
“I would not have regretted it.” The truth of her admission surprised even Grace. She could see him waver, but he clenched his fists tighter, refusing to give way. “Then ask me again,” he whispered. “Under different circumstances.”
“Why?” Grace huffed.“So you can reject me again?”
“No.” His voice dropped, once again sending her heart into a flurry. “I would not have the strength to turn you away twice.”
Before she could say another word, he turned towards the door, hesitating for only a second before slipping out into the hall, leaving Grace alone with nothing but the taste of brandy lingering on her lips.
Chapter Sixteen
Grace stirred her tea slowly; each clink of the spoon felt like a tiny hammer in her skull. Her head throbbed with every agonizing breath. The sunlight filtering through the windows was far too aggressive, and even the birds outside seemed to have a personal vendetta against her. She lifted her teacup to her lips in her very best attempt to give off a composed appearance—but judging by Matthew’s curious glances, she was doing a very poor job.
