Given half the chance, I’d do that again and again and again, forbidden or not. Basking in the glow of the gentle firelight with my chest pressed against Amy’s breasts, whatever the consequences are, in this moment every single one is worth it.
ChapterSeventeen
AMY
Waking up in bed with Ollie Quinn’s humongous thighs nestled between mine sounds fabulous in theory, but I can barely feel my legs, which are dead beneath the weight of him. It doesn’t stop a satisfied smile spreading over my tender, swollen lips. I can only assume my mouth and chin is red raw with stubble rash, and that’s not the only part of me. After three rounds of intense, mind-blowing sex last night, I’m doubtful I’ll be able to walk later, let alone go for the run I’d planned this morning. It was worth every second.
Stirring with a sigh, Ollie’s eyes flutter open. He rubs them sleepily and glances up from where his cheek remains pressed against my right boob, my bra long since discarded during the second round of fun.
‘Nice curtains.’ He eyes the lilac floral eyesores Mam hung to match the ones she put up downstairs all those weeks ago. It reminds me that not only do I need to change them, but also that she has a key and is liable to let herself in at any moment, as is Eddie. Even that prospect fails to move me from Ollie’s heavy, but heavenly, embrace.
‘I could stay here forever,’ he mumbles with a yawn. ‘Or in this proximity at least.’ He shuffles on top of me, propping himself up on those enormous arms again and rubs his morning glory deliciously between my legs.
‘If only…’
‘What time is it?’ He scratches around for his phone discarded on the floor.
‘Time for round four?’ I shimmy down underneath him and wrap my thighs around his waist.
He throws the phone back to the floor without even glancing at it. ‘I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this morning.’
I don’t want to think about the consequences of our actions; all I can think about is taking him again. Never have I experienced sex like it. Turns out he was right when he said we have a connection because the way he handled me last night, it was like he could read my mind.
Between kisses I mutter, ‘You want to know how I feel? I feel like more today, tonight, tomorrow and every day after that.’
‘Thankfully, you seem to have got the memo. I’ve only been telling you since the first night we met there’s something incredible between us.’ He smiles, as I pass him another silver square. Kissing my forehead in a tender, intimate gesture, he pushes himself into me.
When we move together, it’s slower, gentler. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s aware I’m sore, or because he wants to draw it out, but either way it’s perfect. His slow rhythm becomes more intense, each thrust bringing me closer to the edge. Strong hands grip my backside, tilting my pelvis upwards to meet his stroke. Giving myself to him fully, I achieve what I’d thought impossible until last night, spiralling deliciously out of control a second before he does.
As our hearts slow again, I draw circles on his back, stroking his flesh, relishing every inch of his bare skin. If I had any daft delusions that shagging Ollie Quinn would get him out of my system, I was badly wrong. Scratch that, I was under no illusions. Apart from what he does to me physically, there is something so reassuring about being in his presence. It takes a while to put my finger on the word I’m searching for, but it’s trust. I trust him. And I don’t trust easily.
I’ve started something now and I won’t give it up easily. Even in the light of day, I can’t bring myself to face the seriousness of the situation. I’ve committed a sackable offence and risked the chance my brother may never speak to me again, but in this beautiful bubble, enveloped by Ollie’s obvious affection, I don’t care about any of it.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks, stroking my arm with a tenderness that expresses genuine concern.
‘Everything and nothing. Mostly, that I need a shower.’
‘Me too.’ A grin forms on his lips and he follows me to the bathroom where we shower together, taking turns to lather each other’s hair and body with grapefruit scented soap. I’m ridiculously relaxed with him. Everything about him is calming, from the gentle way he touches my skin, to those deep, soul-searching eyes. No, I can’t bring myself to regret anything.
Wrapping a towel round myself, I tuck it under my arms, before switching off the shower and handing him one. There’s a quietness between us; it’s not awkward, it’s comfortable. I’ve never been a massive talker, always preferring action over pointless wasted observations. Ollie appears to be the same.
‘Breakfast? I make a mean omelette packed with protein, exactly what you need for the day ahead.’
‘Am I keeping you from anything?’ He tucks the towel around his waist and my eyes follow the movement involuntarily. Perfect pecs sit rigidly in position on his chest and I can’t help but stare at him. Naturally, he’s in impeccable physical condition. I could look at him all day and never get bored.
‘No. Well, I was going to do a workout before the game,’ a smile creeps on my face, ‘but I think I’ve had enough exercise for one day, don’t you?’ He follows me back through to the kitchen where I begin cracking eggs into a Pyrex dish.
‘You have an amazing figure. You mentioned it’s cardio you focus on?’ From anyone else it might sound sleazy, but this is one athlete talking to another. Even if he doesn’t know the full extent of my ambitions.
‘I run 10k twice a week and get my bike out every Sunday. Sometimes I cycle 70k, depending on how I’m feeling. I swim most weeks too.’ It’s as close as I’ve got to telling anyone about my secret hobby, oddly it feels natural saying it to Ollie.
‘So, are you are triathlete or something?’ He fills the kettle and flicks it on as if he’s been here a hundred times before.
He doesn’t miss a trick. ‘Honestly, yes. But nobody knows. Not my family, or even my best friend. It’s kind of my thing. It’s how I escape from them all. It’s something that’s just for me, and only me.’
‘That’s pretty cool.’ Ollie slides onto a rickety chair at the round wooden table in the centre of my kitchen.
‘I never told anyone before because I didn’t want them turning up. Eddie has a tendency to take over and dictate every aspect of my life. He’d take on the role as my coach, try to tell me what I should or shouldn’t eat. How to improve my time or mental attitude. I don’t need or want that. I do it for me. Eddie’s achievements are amazing; he’s successful, disciplined, motivated and a brilliant sportsman. I don’t mind living in his shadow. In fact, I quite like it. But the second anyone in my tri club finds out who my brother is, nothing I do will ever matter. I’ll only ever be Eddie Harrington’s little sister. Do you understand?’ My mouth spouts all my secrets while my hands make a pot of tea.
