Penny in London

by Fisher Amelie

  “Because you should be afraid of me.”

  “I am, but my reasons are my own. I wonder, though, what yours are,” I whispered.

  He gave me that same smile again, the one that revealed he knew much, but would divulge none of it.

  “Keep your secrets then,” I told him, downing the remaining contents of my drink and sitting back up.

  Oliver took my empty glass from me, his fingers grazing mine, sending tingles down my legs. He held up his along with mine as the waitress passed and ordered two more. The liquid courage was a successful endeavor.

  “Still hold no belief in regrets?” he asked me when she returned with our second round, handing over a glass.

  Feeling bold, I took both in my hands and set them at the small table at our feet. Looking for an excuse to touch him, I ignored his question and reached for his fitted vest, pulling him toward me. He let me, his eyes targeted on my lips. I untucked his tie, pulling it out slowly, then undid the knot, dragging the length from around his neck, walking my hands up the fabric as I drew it down. He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. I followed the line of his throat as he did this and smiled. He opened his eyes and stared at me. I made a show of wrapping the tie slowly around my hand. My fingers went to his neck and undid his collar button, peeling it back, and exposing his throat.

  When I had no more to touch without it looking too brazen, I sat back. He stared at me and a lazy, knowing smile grew, which made the butterflies in my stomach dive and climb. I felt my cheeks flush but kept his gaze while I pulled at the end of the tie around my hand, letting it unravel, the movement swishing the fabric against my skin, sending chills up my arm. I held it up and let it coil in the seat between us.

  He swallowed. “That was…”

  “Interesting?” I bantered, stealing his word from outside the shop earlier.

  He nodded.

  If I’m doing this, I thought, pressing my body against his. I brought my lips to his ear.

  “I’m no traitor,” I whispered.

  I felt his shoulders shake with laughter as I smiled into his neck.

  He turned and spoke his words against the skin of my throat. “You’ll defect. I can be very persuasive.”

  I shifted my head slowly from side to side, letting the ends of my hair sway across his arms. “Would you settle for dual citizenship?” I flirted.

  “No,” he taunted, the fingers of his right hand finding the wrist of my left. He wrapped them around and his thumb found my pulse point, pressing lightly. “I’ll have not but a full allegiance,” he demanded.

  He dipped his head and I gasped softly as his lips found my collarbone. “Pen,” he said, running his teeth along the bone.

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re much better at this than I could have possibly imagined,” he admitted.

  He pulled back, waiting for a response. I suppose he wanted to see my face when I answered. I lightly shrugged one shoulder instead, making him laugh.

  “Should we go back to my place?” he asked.

  Now it was my turn to smile. I reached out with my right hand and ran my fingers through the top of his hair. His head fell back somewhat before falling forward when I brought my fingers down the back of his neck then around to rest on his shoulder. He stared at me, waiting.

  “No, there’ll be none of that, sir,” I answered.

  His eyes formed slits and a devilish smile reached across his incredible mouth. “Oh, Pen, I believe you’re the most fun I’ve ever had.”

  “I guarantee it.”

  “Do you now?” he flirted, resting both his hands along my jawline.

  He let both slide down the sides of my neck, bringing his right hand around, letting his fingers settle softly around my throat. He leaned in and kissed once below my left ear, rounding halfway along my jaw before pushing my head back, exposing the side of my throat. My breaths sped then, despite my desperate attempt to control them, and I felt a deep, rumbling laugh vibrate against the skin there all the way into my chest. He had me, he was certain of it.

  With the added confidence that came with this new conviction, he kept his face buried in my throat but let his hands fall to my waist, gripping there and yanking me closer. An involuntary gasp followed and his fingers applied even more pressure.

  “Pen,” his voice thundered across my skin. “I want to kiss you.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “But it won’t be here,” he explained while dragging his lips up my throat.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ll be damned if the first time I get to taste you is in a public house.” He sat up, his eyes looking a little intoxicated by the moment. I wondered if mine matched. I was sure they did. “Come to my house.”

  “No.”

  He smiled. “I’ll touch your lips with mine only.” He crossed his heart with his thumb. “On my honor. After, you can stay in your old room, or I’ll take you home. Your choice.”

  I considered him. “Just a kiss?”

  “A single kiss, madam, I assure you.”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Ten.”

  “Take me to your place, Oliver Finn.”

  He shot up like a rocket. “Stay,” he ordered, a wild look in his eyes. “Whatever you do, do not change your mind.”

  He looked to his right and nodded at the bartender, signaling he wanted his check. He ran his hands through his hair, straightening out the lovely mess I’d created, which secretly disappointed me because that territory had been marked—and it was mine. He walked with purpose toward the coat check. Returning with our coats, I watched his lean, muscled body hover over the bar top, reaching for a pen and signing the tab to close it. He shook hands with the bartenders and turned toward me.

  My left hand found the back of the love seat’s edge as I watched him stalk toward me, my breaths speeding up with every step he took my direction. He terrified and excited me, and I decided in that moment that was the best combination of sensations I’d ever felt. He was the only one I’d met who had ever produced them. I stood, clutching my bag to my body, and waited for him to come to me.

  “Miss Beckett,” he greeted when he reached me.

  “Mr. Finn.”

  He laid his jacket over the back of the love seat and held my own out for me as I slipped my arms through. Stepping closer, he closed the jacket, buttoning me up from the top to the bottom. He smiled at me as he did it.

  “It’s only fair,” he taunted.

  When he was done, he picked up his own, not bothering to put it on, then held out his hand. I placed a palm over his and he laced his fingers with mine. Practically sprinting out of the pub, he pulled me behind him to his car, throwing open the passenger side door and placing me inside. Within two minutes we were at his house, pulling into his garage.

  Memories of that last day flooded me but before I had time to process them, Oliver had removed me from the car, picking me up and jogging with me up the stairs.

  “No casts this time,” he said with a wink.

  Bolting through the door, he set me on my feet.

  He smiled, though I could barely see it in the dark of the room, our only light from the lamps outside.

  “Welcome back,” he said.

  I returned the smile.

  “I want to tell you so many things,” he revealed to the floor, his hands clasped behind his back, “but I’m not sure where to begin.” He shifted his head even closer. “I-I’ll start with the easy things.” His dazzling eyes found mine and he smiled. “It’s so effortless to be with you, Pen. The mere act of holding your hand thrills me in ways you couldn’t possibly comprehend. Hearing your voice is a balm to my soul. Feeling your skin, looking into your eyes, knowing your touch is a heaven I will never grow accustomed to. I am utterly enchanted by you and that affection, that fever, has not once wavered, not in the year I’ve known you, not once. I’ve tried time and time again to distract myself from you, tried to come to terms with it, and I’m wor
n out from trying. It’s exhausting. I want you, Penelope. I can count the things I am desperate for on one hand, on a single finger. You. I want you. Only you.”

  I wanted him to kiss me, to fulfill his promise in the pub, yet he stood stock-still, refusing to close the gap between us. It was up to me. He was telling me it was up to me.

  “I have a confession, Oliver,” I admitted after a pregnant pause. “It’s as much an acknowledgement to myself as it is an admission to you.”

  He smiled at me, his eyes roaming my face. “Tell me, darling.”

  “I could have lived anywhere in the world, yet I chose to stay in London. I could have rented, but I chose to buy. I saw a million different flats in a million different neighborhoods, but I chose mine because of the easy distance between us. I timed it. It’s seven minutes.” I took a deep breath. “At night when I lay down, I can only fall asleep if I’m imagining myself here, in that bed,” I said, nodding toward my old room, “with you by my side as we did that day. I stayed in London for you. Because of you. I want you. Only you.”

  Oliver swallowed and his hands fell to his sides. I angled my face up closer to his, a silent invitation. Hesitant at first, he hovered his lips over mine, and the warmth from his breath brushed across my cheeks.

  Slowly, tortuously, his lips met mine. An explosive rush of blood erupted through my veins, carrying with it emotions I had never felt, excitement I had never experienced, an intoxication so drugging I wondered if I was meant for death. And I would have welcomed it. I would have happily accepted it if it meant his lips on mine, even if it was for just the one time.

  Oliver’s hands went to my back and he pulled me into him, shifting his mouth over mine over and over with languid turns of his lips. His fingers found my hair and threaded there, pulling slightly, and sending shivers down my spine. He broke away and kissed down my jaw, tugging softly at my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. He moved his mouth over the skin there, spilling down until he met my collarbone.

  He pulled away, leaving me gasping for more. I buried my face in his neck, fistfuls of his shirt in my hands.

  “Keep going,” I whispered.

  I felt the vibration of his laugh against my face and smiled. “If I keep on, love,” his deep voice murmured, “I won’t stop, and hell if I’ll be that guy again.” He pulled me away and tucked his hands beneath my jaw before running them up into my hair. He kissed beneath my ear once. “We have to leave,” he told me, kissing me again at the corner of my mouth. “Now, or I won’t be responsible for the inevitable.”

  I nodded into his mouth and teased his lips with mine, walking backward toward the door but bringing him with me. We kissed back and forth until my back hit the door and continued when his hand found the knob and turned. A small gasp escaped me when he whipped me around and opened the door, pulling us through, and closing it behind us, our mouths still intertwined.

  He lifted me and walked me to the passenger side of his car, setting me down and breaking our kiss. He pressed my back into the side of his car and leaned into me.

  “You’re very good at this, Mr. Finn,” I told him.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Beckett, but what is this man without this woman? I am what I am because of you.”

  My breath left my lungs in a rush. “Say more things like that,” I ordered, making him smile.

  He pressed his body deeper against mine and ran his hands throughout my hair, picking up a strand with one and wrapping it around a finger. “Thank you for choosing me,” he said, making me melt beneath his fingertips. “That simple act has gained you a follower for life, Penelope Beckett. I’ll do it, gladly. To the moon and back, to the ends of the earth, around your finger without cease, if that is your wish.

  “May I ask you a question?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Could you fall in love with me?”

  “Yes,” I told him without hesitation.

  “Would you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you inform me the hour, the minute, the second you do?”

  “The very moment,” I promised.

  He smiled his crooked smile, the one I’d noticed belonged only to me. “Let’s get you home, darling.”

  Oli drove me home and walked me to my door. When I let myself into my flat, he followed me in only to see that it was safe and left me with a simple kiss at my temple.

  I went to bed that night in a euphoria I hadn’t known could inhabit the earth. It was as if I was invited to a very private, very exclusive club no one is aware of until you’re a member. And it was exquisite.

  The morning of the show I texted George that I would be at Alice & Emma, which was preceded by an immediate phone call.

  “Morning,” I greeted, after sliding the answer button.

  “You bagged that delicious boy, didn’t you?” she asked without preamble.

  “I did nothing like that!” I insisted.

  “He dumped the blonde and came running to your side and now he’s taking you to Alice & Emma.”

  “George! You make it sound so scandalous!”

  “It is, love, but I’ve never shied away from such things, you know this. I wholeheartedly approve. He is scrummy, sweetheart!”

  “Oh, hush,” I told her, laughing into the phone.

  “And you’re going to marry that bloke, I just know it. Little children will be scampering beneath your feet before you know it. You are so getting married.”

  “George! That’s not true!” I exclaimed, before imagining that exact scenario, my stomach plummeting to my feet and back up at the satisfying thought.

  “Bollocks, love, you know it is.”

  “George.” I sighed, ignoring her. “I’ll see you at the show?”

  “Yes, wear something outrageous and shocking.”

  “You’re insane!” I laughed. “See you there.”

  “See you. And Penelope?”

  “Yes?”

  “Just remember you look rubbish in anything peach.”

  I snorted and laughed. “Bye, George.”

  “Bye, sweetheart.”

  I hung up the phone and hopped in the shower, singing at the top of my lungs as I washed my hair.

  “Penelope!” I heard over the running water.

  “Oh shit!” I screamed. Startled, I dropped my loofah. “Claire! I’m in here!”

  I heard her enter the bathroom and sit on my sink. “You’re awfully chipper,” she commented.

  I pulled back the curtain a little and stuck out my head.

  “I met up with Oli last night.”

  She sat up from her drooped stance. “Shut your face.”

  “He and his girlfriend broke up.”

  “Shut your face.”

  “He kissed me last night.”

  She hopped off the counter. “Shut your face!”

  We both started jumping up and down and screaming, though mine wasn’t as graceful standing behind a bunched curtain.

  “I know!” I exclaimed when we settled down.

  I shut the curtain and began to rinse my hair.

  “What happened between yesterday afternoon after we talked until now?” she asked me.

  “Dude, Claire, I went to dinner with Jasper—” I began, but Claire cut me off.

  “Oh, how is he doing?” she asked, the tone of her voice a little too curious.

  I globbed a bunch of conditioner in my hair and said, “He’s good. He’s great, actually, why do you want to know?”

  “No reason,” Claire mumbled.

  I tucked the curtain back again and stared at her. “A fan of Jasper, are we?” I asked.

  She started laughing. “You’re a nutter!” she told the floor. “Why would you even think that? I have no clue why you’d even ask that. I only met him the once, and it was fleeting even then. I’m not a fan at all. I don’t think he’s charming or anything. I mean, it’s not as if I find him handsome in the least…” she trailed off.

  I barked a laugh. “
Claire Bear! I am totally hooking the both of you up at tonight’s party.”

  Claire’s head whipped up. “He’s coming to your party?”

  “Of course,” I told her.

  “Have to go!” she said, scurrying out of my bathroom. “Love you! See you tonight!” She stopped at the doorway and turned around. “Oh, and Penelope?”

  “Yes?”

  “Happy birthday, my love.”

  I smiled at her. “Thank you, Claire.”

  Claire left in a flourish and I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair. I ransacked my closet for something to wear to Alice & Emma and decided to do something different for my vlog that day and film myself live. I got dressed, choosing a saucy little number, not in peach, thanks to George’s prodding, and set my phone on a stand I bought for just such an occasion and went live.

  “Good morning, my loves!” I greeted everyone.

  As I did my hair, I filled everyone in on the night before. I told my viewers everything that went on in my life. Well, pretty much everything. I kept the night I fled Oliver’s a secret because it was too sore a subject and I didn’t want to humiliate him, but other than that, they were privy to pretty much anything. I told them about the searing kiss at his house the night before and almost swooned right out of my chair. I went into great detail about what we were doing that day, our breakfast that morning, and let them know about my birthday party that night, promising another live update then. By the time I was done, my hair and makeup were completed and I signed off with a flourish and a promise that I’d fill them all in later.

  With butterflies in my stomach, I grabbed my Zoe and I made my way downstairs, hailing a taxi just in time outside. I piled inside and told him to take me to the Regency. I was having breakfast with Oliver.

  Now, I’d eaten there a thousand times with him when I’d been with Graham, but not once had I ever looked as forward to eating there as I was that morning. It was all Oliver.

  When the cabbie pulled up to Regency, I threw cash over the seat, thanked him, told him to keep the change, and sprinted out the door toward the restaurant all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

  “Excuse me,” I told a waiting patron.

  I meandered through the thick crowd on the sidewalk and searched the faces for Oliver’s, finally spotting him at a far corner between the restaurant and the shop next door. He looked casual and unhurried, his hands in his pockets, his back pressed against the window. He was beautiful.