“Oh god. Oh god, Oliver!”
He lets out a string of low, growly curses and pumps once more, his entire body going stiff as my second release blows the doors off. My muscles grip down on him hard as my body milks everything out of him.
I collapse.
Oliver’s broad chest is sheened with salty sweat. He crams his fist into my hair and kisses me deeply and fervently.
“Mine,” he growls.
“I’m yours, Oliver.”
“I’m yours, Iris.”
We hold onto each other desperately until the shuddering stops, the panting ceases, and the fog clears.
“That was…”
“Yeah,” Oliver replies. “It was.”
His chin and lips are red from our sex, and from his excursion downstairs.
He’s so good at that, I’m going to beg for it again. Soon.
Turns out, I don’t have to beg. Oliver is eager to go again. And again.
We explore each other all night until we’re thoroughly spent.
The next morning, I wake up with more than a twinge between my legs. I can barely walk.
“You okay, Biscuit?”
“As the kids say, you might have literally blown my back out,” I joke.
Oliver sits up and kisses my shoulder. “Then go back to sleep and let me make you coffee.”
I lie there, completely content to do nothing but stare out the window. Across the street, Maddie and Ewan are leaving hand in hand to take in day three of the festival. I remember how Skylar demanded that I take time for myself today and do nothing.
Doing nothing with Oliver sounds like the perfect day.
I can’t help myself, so I grab the phone off my nightstand and glance at the screen. No messages. Perfect.
I resist the temptation to give Skylar an update. I kind of want to take today off—completely cut off from everyone and everything except Oliver. And if he’s busy, that’s fine, too. I can read a book. Plan my summer garden plot. Who knows what I can get up to when I have nothing to do?
Oliver returns with my coffee, wearing nothing but the boxer briefs he discarded last night.
“You look yummy, prancing around my bedroom half naked.”
He scoffs. “I don’t prance.”
“Okay, fine. You waltzed.”
“Come on.”
“What?” I ask with feign innocence. “What’s wrong with a waltz? Are you saying you don’t want to role-play Captain Von Trapp to my Maria?”
He does a spit take. “I don’t sing or play guitar, sorry.”
I sit up in bed. “We should watch Sound of Music.”
