by Mara McQueen
He grasped her waist tightly and guided her against the wall.
God, yes.
He sucked on her lower lip, biting it, swallowing her surprised cry. Olivia's fingers found the angle of his jaw she had wanted to touch since that first day when he had seemed so detached from the decaying exterior of his life.
He left small bites down her chin and neck, licking the reddening flesh. They couldn’t have possibly gotten any closer or they might’ve melded together from the heat, the passion, the desire.
He snaked his large palms down her legs, finding that one spot behind her knees that turned her to mush, and pulled her up in one thrust, centering her against the wall with his own weight. She clasped her heels behind his back and pulled him in.
Heaven. Olivia was in heaven.
Not to be outdone, she grasped his hair in one hand, the other securely propped on his shoulder, and drew his head up, kissing him with everything she had.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when he rocked his body into hers. The stone against her back was jagged, cold, and dug into her skin, but she didn’t care.
All that mattered was that he didn’t stop moving against her, didn’t stop demanding complete attention from all of her senses.
His moves enticed her further, deeper, faster. Now.
She wanted more. More skin on skin, more teeth, more pulling—more everything.
And Kieran seemed to agree. Securing one tense arm on the wall, he used the other to grip Olivia’s shirt and ripped the front of it off in one move.
She writhed in his arms, pushing her chest forward.
He lowered his head, a playful glint in his eyes. He pulled down one bra strap with his teeth, grinning up at her.
Olivia stopped breathing. She was sure her heart would beat itself into a frenzy.
With a smirk, he let go of the strap. It slapped against her shoulder with a satisfying smack, igniting her.
“Yes,” Olivia hissed, arching her back against the wall and closing her eyes.
Kieran traced the curve of her breasts with his tongue, delving underneath her bra just enough to drive her wild.
Heaven above, the sight of his face nestled between her breasts was one she wanted to experience again and again and again.
His flushed cheeks against her pale skin, his scorching breath, and the satisfying rumble running through his chest.
His shirt shifted, and Olivia scraped her nails along his exposed flesh, relishing in the husky sounds he made.
Just as she grasped his shirt, ready to snap it as he'd done to hers, a loud thump echoed from above.
They looked up, unmoving, their synchronized heavy breaths the only sound in the small space.
Another thump, louder.
Hard enough to dislodge a sprinkle of fine dust from between the rock pieces into Olivia’s hair.
She snapped out of her blissful state. She brought her shaky feet back on the ground, as Kieran blinked himself back to reality.
If she looked into his eyes, she might pin him to the wall and never let him leave.
She pulled away from him, turning to close her shirt; impossible since half the buttons now littered the uneven floor.
Giving up with a desperate huff, she looked over her shoulder at Kieran, who was leaning against the wall, mussed-up hair hiding half his face.
“What was that?” she asked in a throaty voice that didn’t sound like it belonged to her.
“The universe's weird sense of humor, trying to drive me insane,” he said, voice raspy. “Don't worry. Bertha probably had a bit too much of that moonshine of hers again.”
“I’d still like to be sure.” Olivia’s legs were still wobbly and she could still feel the sting from the bra strap.
She hoped a caving armoire had caused the ruckus. The last thing she wanted was meeting one of Bolton Manor’s residents while she was all flushed and red.
"As the lady wishes." Kieran retrieved the lamp, before starting the slow trek back to the world above as if nothing had happened. The slight reddish tint of his cheeks and that one nail scratch across his neck told a different story.
When they reached the exit, Kieran struggled to open the partition that had closed during their midnight frolicking. Weird, since he had the strength of a titan.
When he managed to pry the thing open, he followed Olivia back into the manor. He tried the light switch. No luck. The lights had gone off for good.
Olivia quickened her steps, trying to put as much distance between herself and the enticing man behind her. She could at least attempt to look professional.
She desperately hoped the racket hadn’t come from Milo fumbling about in the dark, trying to find some other secrets best left alone.
“Hello?” she asked into the dimness once she reached the spot she estimated the sound had come from, a few feet away from the kitchen.
A large cabinet was tipped over near one of the walls, the candlesticks and paintings scattered on the floor.
Olivia turned her questioning gaze to Kieran. His lips were swollen and red. Olivia wanted to lick them.
“Addie’s been eyeing this piece of junk for weeks. Stealing it in the middle of the night was a bad idea, but irrational actions are her reason to live, after all.”
“Are you sure it was her?”
“Nobody else would want this rubbish.”
But they searched around in a few more deserted rooms, careful to avoid bumping into the mismatched furniture. They passed through eerie room after eerie room.
One was filled with enough mirrors for three fun-houses, too many couches in another, and a taxidermied partridge, but not a soul creeping by.
"No midnight visitors, it seems," Kieran said.
The situation sobered Olivia.
Had they made a mistake in the tunnels?
Maybe it had been too soon, too fast, too eager. He had just hinted at his desire and she had jumped at the opportunity. Literally jumped him. Tugging her mangled shirt over her chest, Olivia nodded a few times too many.
“Well, good night,” she said a little too cheerfully and headed straight for the stairs.
Kieran followed.
She turned sharply, causing him to almost bump into her.
“What are you doing?”
He frowned. “Walking you to your door.”
“Walking me...to my door,” Olivia said, completely dumbfounded. Damn gentlemen and their perfect manners. Where had they been when she was in her formative years and all she got were bad dates and leering? “Thank...you?”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said and waited patiently for her. He didn’t even bother to straighten his clothes or hair. The man didn’t have a self-conscious bone in his body.
They continued their brisk walk back, Kieran as serene as a baby, Olivia aware she looked completely disheveled.
Walks of shame shouldn’t happen in centuries-old manors.
“Although this night didn’t end like I had envisioned it,” he said once they reached her door, and Olivia scrambled to get her key to work. “I enjoyed it.”
"I did too." She bit her lower lip. “I don't think my shirt had fun, though.”
“The shirt’s a prude,” Kieran said with mock-seriousness, watching Olivia through half-hooded eyes.
They stared at each other, both of them clenching their fists at their sides. The heavy rain pounded against the roof.
Olivia didn’t know if she should wave him off or tug him into her bedroom.
Luckily, he made the decision for her. “See you tomorrow?”
Olivia’s mouth slackened and she stared at him. “Unless you try to hide.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently grasped her arm, sending tingles all over her body. He bent down and placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. The perfect gentleman. “Sleep well.”
And then he left, leaving Olivia with her shirt and certainty ripped to shreds. He was insane.
Shared Lunacy
Stand
ing still was impossible.
Olivia had woken up from a restless sleep haunted by images of bright eyes and maddening lips cornering her from all sides.
She'd done everything to at least try and keep her thoughts from going back to the damn moment which had left her shaking and wanting.
Also impossible.
A brisk walk would’ve calmed her. But the rain still hadn’t left the area to torment drier, greener lands. The cold fogged up the windows, and the clouds seemed determined to blur the sky until the end of the day.
The storm had also cut off the manor's power. Bad news since her phone's battery was almost out.
So pacing she did.
Last night had been intense. She knew she’d been developing a puppy crush on Kieran, but hadn’t ever thought she’d jump his bones at the first opportunity. Second. Well, third. Whatever.
What was this with Kieran and why did she want him so bad? And why was she hesitating? She'd be leaving in a few days. She knew it, he knew it.
She already had the contract. So why wasn't she in Kieran's arms right now?
Olivia peered outside the window. Martin and Sarah cramped together under a broken umbrella ready to fold on top of their heads. They were heading for the forest, undeterred in their quest to find gruesome relics.
At least they had their shared lunacy to revel in. It was rare, finding someone who understood your quirks.
Who made you laugh.
Who drove you insane with want.
Ignoring the flutter in her chest, Olivia nodded at her distorted reflection in the window and marched to her door, yanking it open.
She wouldn’t let her apprehension ruin the next few days.
She strutted into his study and faltered as soon as she laid eyes on him. He wore the leather jacket and driving gloves, his hair pulled back.
Olivia’s mouth slackened and not even the roaring thunder outside could make her tear her gaze off him.
“Hello.” He smiled.
“Hi,” Olivia said a bit too breathy for her liking. “Going out?”
“No, coming,” he said. “Quite a coincidence. You wouldn’t be stalking me, would you?”
“Then I’d be doing a really shitty job at it.”
“Or a superb one, depending on how you look at it.” He took off his gloves in one swift go. “I’m a perpetual optimist, you see.”
“That’s a bit odd.” She tapped her lips with her finger. It was easy to fall into this easy rhythm with him. “Because I remember meeting a guy the first day I came here, and boy, was he gloomy sight to behold.”
He ducked his head with a boyish grin and took a step toward her. “Maybe I have a reason to be cheerful now.”
Olivia couldn’t stop the blush creeping into her cheeks. This man and his accent could turn her upside down with a few words. She felt that pleasant drop in her stomach return with a vengeance.
He stopped a caress away from her. His leather jacket emphasized his shoulders even more. All Olivia wanted to do was dig her fingers into them.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, raising his hand to lightly touch Olivia’s exposed arm.
“Yes?”
“Well, not so much a surprise any longer,” he said and inclined his chin in his desk’s direction.
Olivia craned her neck, the shy smile turning into a full-blown grin.
She zoomed past him, stopping only when she clutched the signed contract waiting for her on his desk. “Mine.”
Kieran laughed. “I took the liberty of changing a few things.”
“If you took out my commission, I’ll tell on you to Mrs. Bolton,” Olivia said absently, her gaze already scanning the first page.
Kieran shook his head and entered his bedroom. “I’ll let you read it in privacy.”
“Thanks, thanks,” Olivia said absentmindedly and plopped into his massive chair, two heartbeats away from ecstatic.
Though she had a few more months until New Year's Eve, Olivia called it—best day of the damn year.
His leather chair felt amazing, cradling her sore back. She really needed to do something about that mattress if she wanted to survive until Mrs. Bolton's party.
The few changes he did make to the contract were pretty standard. The confidentiality clause stretching over one page was a bit of an overkill, but not that unusual.
Some of her previous clients had done worse—going so far as to force her to never reveal their names. As if Buttermound was something worth repeating.
Olivia was suddenly struck with the need to tell someone about her success. But even if her phone had been working, who would she call?
One of her college friends? They’d only spoken a few times since she had moved to Leeds. It had made her traitorous and frivolous shift to the real estate business more real to them, she guessed.
They still hoped she would go after an art history teaching gig or send resumes to every museum in the solar system. Or get engaged, at least. Actually, according to their many—so fucking many—jokes, all her adult decisions needed to be altered to the extreme.
Contacting her parents was out of the question. They didn’t even know she had been living in Britain.
Whatever. She could celebrate on her own. This sale was going to help her rebuild her life, pound for pound, dollar for dollar.
This could help her get a handle on those loans. Start eating fresh food for a change. Get a lease on a proper apartment, where the faucets didn’t leak, and the neighbors didn’t shout until 2 AM.
She took one of the symmetrically arranged pens on the table. Her hand hovered over the signature line.
This would confirm—to Milo, to others, to herself—that she could fix her mistakes. All by herself.
All she had to do was press the pen onto the paper. That’s all. A simple signature that she hesitated to scrawl.
“All done?” Kieran’s head peaked between the doors, a lopsided smile on his face.
“Just about.” She flexed her suddenly sweaty fingers.
He came out of his bedroom, shutting the doors behind him with a loud thump. He strode to her side, confident as ever.
“Having second thoughts?” Kieran whispered in her ear, further denting her concentration. She turned around and swatted at him. He chuckled.
“Why would I have second thoughts?” she asked—Kieran or herself, she didn’t know.
She wanted the contract...didn't she? She had come all the way to the middle of nowhere to get it. Fought with Milo over it. Barely slept because of it.
She...she wanted it. She wanted the money she'd get from it, the stepping stone toward a promotion that could help her crawl out of the financial hole she'd dug for herself.
This way, she knew what her life would be like two years from now. Hell, a decade from now. Her future decided with one signature.
The problem was, she hated what it represented—her desperation. She didn't just want this sale. She needed it. She had no reason to want to walk away, but if she had, she couldn't. It was a grim reminder of how she'd given up her dreams of working in a museum or an art gallery to become an estate agent. A damn good estate agent.
The Bolton Manor listing was both a lifeline and a cage.
But she had to do this. She had to do this to cover past Olivia’s mistakes. There was no other option. Nobody else to count on.
Screwing her eyes shut, she signed the document, sealing her fate.
She gathered up the papers, straightening the non-wrinkled edges one too many times.
The tiny trickle of pride that had been bubbling beneath the surface exploded into full-fledged smugness.
She’d done it. She’d secured Bolton Manor. She'd finally made a good adult decision that would lead her down the path she had carved for herself years ago.
“Well, Mr. Kieran Takehiko Bolton, you won’t regret choosing Heatherton & Associates,” she said. “And I’m glad to say this for the first time and really mean it—it will be a pleasure doing business with yo
u.”
She extended her open palm. Instead of shaking it, Kieran raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, his tongue darting out to taste her skin.
His eyes pierced right into her soul. Olivia didn’t want to fight it. She leaned forward, pulled in by his mesmerizing gaze. That hint of mischief, mixed with control, promised another exquisite experience. It would brand Olivia’s memory, making her relive it again and again and again.
“Are you finished with that?” Kieran pointed to the contract, breaking the hazy mood.
“Yes. Now I just have to shake my magic wand and bring in the clients.”
“Glad I could help.” He stuffed it in one of his overflowing drawers. Olivia spotted too many wires and gadgets she couldn’t even begin to name. Kieran shifted some papers around, clearly lost in concentration.
“I have a question. And a confession,” he said.
If him giving her the contract had been an elaborate joke, Olivia promised herself she’d scream until she broke each window.
“I’m listening,” she said, already on guard. She crossed her jittery legs.
“I wasn’t exactly selfless in my decision to give you the contract at the end of the week,” he began, the pause making Olivia squirm in the plush seat.
She’d always been quick to jump to conclusions. She knew that. She despised it. But him avoiding her gaze and the small puffs of air filling the silence were a bad omen.
“How do I know,” he said, his voice a tad small, “you won’t leave now that you've got what you came for?”
Oh. That was surprising and, though she’d never admit it out loud, very welcomed. Kieran wanted to make the most out of their time together. Sadly, there was no way to prolong it. At least for the time being.
“I’ve made a promise and I’m sticking to it.” Olivia met his stare, the fluttering in her chest intensifying. “But come Sunday, I’m out of here with or without the contract.”
He nodded, grasping the edge of his desk a little too hard.
“I tend to forget other people have a life outside of...” Kieran waved his hands around the room, “...this.”
The flutters turned to ice. Olivia wanted to reach out and comfort him.
