“To get married?”
“Yeah. Or to see if there’s something there between you and these random strangers. Maybe your dad is secretly a match maker. Your very own cupid.”
Darius laughs, then uses a hand in my hair to tug my face to his.
“Firstly, I’m twenty-six and I’ve been single since I started university. I’ve never wanted to marryanyone. Secondly, all that’s come from these setups – besides the occasional good meal – is a handful of new friends and one awkward kiss. I love my father, but he’s no cupid, and I’m certainly not letting him choose my partner for me.”
“He won’t think I’m good enough for you,” I state, and the fact hangs heavily in the air between us. I already have a pretty shit sense of self-worth – how can I not when my own parents didn’t deem me good enough to stand up for? But knowing I’ll neverhave the approval of a man who clearly means so much to Darius stings.
“No. Probably not.” He kisses me, a chaste peck to my lips. “But you are everything I need and want, Ollie. When the time comes, he’ll see that. He’s ruthless in a boardroom, a tyrant in the business world, but he’s also a dad who wants to see his son happy.”
I hope he’s right, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not and that I will never be accepted, no matter how much I love Darius.
Putting the thought aside, I kiss lower, licking across his collarbone, listening as his breath hitches before he uses an arm to pull me on top of him. His legs part and I slip between them, my lower half on the bed, and my lips at eye level with his chest. I push up his cami and kiss every inch I can reach, pausing at the sunflower tattoo below his ribs. He grabs the hem and pulls it over his head, throwing it onto the floor. His skin is a sweet and salty mix under my lips and I can’t help steal another taste.
“Why a sunflower?” I kiss the black ink, waiting for a reply.
“Because roses are boring and predictable,” he jokes.
“Noted. I will never buy you roses. But still, why a sunflower?”
While I move my lips over his skin, Darius plays with my hair. “I had this blanket as a kid – it had been my dad’s when he was younger – it was white with big yellow and green sunflowers on it. I loved that blanket, took it everywhere with me until I was too old to need it. I’d completely forgotten about it, until Darcey and I were looking through photos for my twenty-first birthday and we found a picture of me and my dad, the blanket tucked under my arm. My dad’s not a cold man, but he’s serious. Stoic. Reserved with his affection. But in that photo, we were both smiling. They say sunflowers are a symbol of happiness, and that’s all I could see looking at it. The next day, I went out and got this – the exact design as the ones on the blanket.”
I hum, my breath ghosting his skin, which erupts in tiny goosebumps. “It’s really pretty.” I kiss it again and then move further up his body until our noses touch, my hands on either side of the bed, caging him against the pillow. “Like you. You’re really fucking pretty. And yellow is my favourite colour.”
“Yeah? Mine too.”
“Hmm, I wonder what else we have in common.”
Darius surges up and presses his lips to mine. “We both like kissing.”
“That’s true. I love kissing you. What else?”
“We both like documentaries.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I really don’t.”
His mouth falls open in surprise. “But you’ve watchedhoursof them with me.”
“I’ve watched themforyou. But if I’m being honest, I mostly spend the time watching you. You wrinkle your nose when you’re getting annoyed with the show.”
“Stalker,” he jokes, a deep dimple appearing on his cheek. I press my lips to it.
“I like looking at you. What else?”
“We both think I look hot in lace.”
“Do we now?” Moving my hand from next to Darius’s head, I place it at his side, digging my fingers in until he’s wriggling on the bed, his laughter bubbling up as I add the other hand. I tickle him until he’s breathless and swatting at my chest. In one swift move, I flip us, bringing his weight down on top of me, his legs falling to either side of my thighs.
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
Darius circles his hips, our erections covered by the thin fabric of our underwear rubbing together in a delightful dance that sends pulses of need through my body.
“Maybe.” He nips at my bottom lip and I move my hands to his ass, holding him down while using my grasp to increase the pressure between us.
“Hmm…want me to tell you that you’re beautiful, babygirl? That I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you?”
His forehead meets mine, and our eyes connect. His are dark, the blue of his irises swallowed up by his blown pupils. My hands settle on his lower back, not guiding him, just holding on as he chases his pleasure.
