“No chance.”I have to smile.“Olive, you have to wake up.”
“Can’t...”
“If you go to sleep now, you’ll be up at four in the morning again, babe.”
“Babe?”she repeats slowly, in her rough, sleepy voice.“You’re such a Yank.”
And she’s such a Scot.“Would ‘darling’ be better?”I ask.
“Oh, my God.”She groans.“Say it again.”
“No chance, Olive Garden,” I whisper into her ear.
She turns toward me.“Please, Colin.”
“I want a nickname too.”
“You’ve got one, Cowboy.”
“I don’t identify with that.”
“Your problem.”
“Come on.”
“Darling,” she says, shutting her eyes again.“You can have that one.”
Darling...Darling, in that soft Scottish accent I’d die for.
I run my lips over the skin on the back of her neck.Olive’s suppressed moan shoots straight between my legs.I’m so hard it hurts.I want to finally do it with her, but we’re at my parents’ place, besides which I’m scared I have too many complexes.I only have to think about what happened last time she undressed in front of me.And one thing’s for sure, I can’t lose my nerve at the sight of her naked again.Possibly she’d understand now, but I can’t do that to her.
She’s the woman of my dreams, I don’t have to tell her so, but she’s also a person with feelings, however much she likes to pretend that isn’t true.
As she rolls toward me, my head stops thinking.I lean down to kiss her.
She puts her hand on my face and presses herself into my body.I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her onto me.Her breath catches, and then she starts to move.Rhythmically but tantalizingly slow.I feel like I could explode any second.
It takes a huge amount of self-control to twist back onto our sides.I press her gently onto her back, and then I’m over her.
Her dark hair is crazy, her lips are red and gorgeous.I kiss them, to make them more beautiful still.And then I run my mouth down her throat.
Olive leans her head back and turns slightly as I let my hips sink down onto her.She shuts her eyes and gasps my name.I feel dizzy.
She wraps her legs around my hips and lifts herself toward me.Her belly is warm as I slip my hand under her T-shirt.Just a tiny bit, to find out how she likes it.When the hand doesn’t move, she opens her eyes.
“Don’t grin like that,” she hisses, but her voice is shaking.
“Like what?”I ask, pushing my hand a little higher.
Whatever answer had been on the tip of her tongue, she seems to forget it as I reach her left breast.It’s almost ridiculous how perfectly it fits into the palm of my hand.
My stomach muscles contract slightly as Olive stretches her back and pulls me closer by my T-shirt.There’s too much fabric.Much too much.But before I can spin out that thought any further, I hear them.Voices—my mom’s and then Cleo’s—through the closed door.I feel like someone’s tipped a bucket of icy water over me.
Olive looks like she’s similarly sobered up when I meet her eyes.She lies motionless beneath me, listens, then shoves me off her.
I laugh quietly as she hastily pulls the covers over herself and lies on her side.“Don’t worry, they won’t come in.”
“I’m glad you’re so sure of that, Colin,” she mutters.She’s still breathing hard.It’s good to know that it was at least as unsatisfying for her as for me.Which isn’t to say that it was bad.Just...too short.
