‘I’ll have you know I don’t own an expensive coffee machine…’ He paused. ‘It’s a whole café in my house with workers and everything.’
His words sunk in, and I burst out laughing.
Setting my hand over my heart, I said solemnly, ‘My apologies, I shouldn’t have assumed you make your own coffee.’
He nodded seriously. ‘It’s quite alright, but next time, remember I am richer than God, so I never do a thing for myself.’ His lips quirked up, causing the flutters in my vagina to travel upwards, dancing in my stomach like they were at a rave.
‘Please tell me you at least wipe your own arse.’
He made a clicking sound. ‘Sorry, I hate to disappoint…’
When the gurgling of the coffee was done, I got a mug that saidthis bitch is a 10/10and began filling it.
He examined it, eyebrow ticking up as I handed it over.
‘Rosie?’ he guessed. Why did it make me so happy that he was beginning to know me?
Needing to gain some control over the situation, I picked up my half-empty cup and wandered over to the sofa where we’d initially been sitting when Oliver decided he wanted to tackle my coffee machine. My laptop sat open on the end of the footstool of my armchair. Oliver had taken the two-seater couch, my mismatched cushions and all.
Sometime during one of our meetings last week, he’d stood up out of nowhere and wandered down the hall,returning moments later with Eeyore tucked under his arm. I’d protested, but Oliver ignored me and perched the donkey on the arm of the chair. Occasionally, I’d see him glance at it and start chuckling.
Since then, Eeyore had been a part of our meetings, sitting there with his sad eyes, watching over everything.
I tucked one foot under my butt, the other dangling off the armchair. Oliver strolled over, blowing on his black coffee.
I wrinkled my nose. ‘I don’t know how you drink it black.’
He settled on the sofa, propping one leg up on the other. I quickly looked down at my notes.
‘It’s no different to that poison you drink,’ he commented.
Hearing my addiction be called such a blasphemous name, I stuck out my chin. ’At least thistastesgood. The worst part of coffee is the taste. It needs four sugars and a heavy dose of milk before it should even be considered a beverage.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, love.’ His eyes flickered with humour as he took a sip, not once dropping my gaze.
My stomach clenched.Love.He was northern. It was a very common pet name that people from that part of the country used. It meant nothing.Nothing.
Ireallyneeded an orgasm. A mind-bending, over-the-top screaming climax supplied by the variety of sex toys in my bedside table. Maybe that was all it was? Oliver wouldn’t be such a distraction if I got my libido under control before these meetings. I hadn’t had sex with anyone since Charlie, and that was lacklustre at the best of times, so after doing a round of mental gymnastics that would make an Olympian proud, I had all but convinced myself that my attraction to Oliver was nothing more than my need for a good solid wank session.
Needing a moment to collect myself, I inspected the nexttalking point on my notes. My stomach sank to the floor when I saw the next subject I needed to get him to open up about.
This was going to derail our meeting.
I swallowed thickly.
‘What’s with the face?’ I looked up to find Oliver staring at me, his usual expression of disinterest wiped clean, replaced with one I could almost convince myself was one of concern.
‘It’s my face. Sorry if it offends you.’ I quipped back.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Your eyes went all crinkly, and you scrunched up your nose. Something you only do when you’re nervous.’
My lips parted slightly. Since when did he study me so closely? Also, was he right? Did I scrunch up my nose when I was nervous? I had no idea. Suddenly self-conscious, I touched the top of my nose. ‘I don’t.’
A muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘Yeah, you do Pooh.’
I made a show of bristling at the nickname when, secretly, my traitorous body loved every second of it.
‘It’s nothing.’
