Undeniable: A Cloverleigh Farms Standalone

by Melanie Harlow

  “Prove it,” I challenged. “Prove to me that you’re not the same guy you were before.”

  “How?”

  I pushed his hand away. “By keeping your promise not to lay a finger on me.”

  “But … can’t we think of another way?” He looked longingly at my bare legs.

  “Nope.” To reinforce my stance, I opened up my sleeping bag and got in it. “If you mean what you say, and you really do want another chance with me, you’ll have no problem keeping your hands to yourself on your side of the tent. If you just want to get laid tonight and you’re looking for an uncomplicated vagina, you’ll have to seek it elsewhere.”

  “Because your vagina is complicated?”

  I raised my chin. “It’s very complicated.”

  “Fine.” Sighing heavily, he reached over and turned down the light, removed his T-shirt, then flopped onto his back, hands behind his head. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.” I turned onto my side, facing away from him, trying to hide a smile in the hoodie I was using as a pillow. I was positive he would be crawling over to me within minutes, proving me right.

  Then, and only then, would I give in.

  So I stayed awake and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  The thunder moved on, the rain eased to a drizzle, the crickets chirped louder … but Oliver stayed on his side of the tent.

  Damn you, Oliver. I know you want me.

  I sighed loudly, just to remind him I was there and let him know I wasn’t asleep.

  Nothing.

  After another minute, I rolled onto my back and took my legs out of my sleeping bag.

  Nothing.

  I rolled onto my side, facing him, and peeked. He was in the exact same position he’d been in before. Eyes closed. His bare chest was visible, and it made my pelvic muscles contract.

  I sighed again. Even louder.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked, not moving a muscle. He had such a great profile.

  “I guess not.”

  “How come? Too dark?”

  “No.”

  “Too hot?”

  “No.”

  “Too cold?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it? There must be something keeping you awake.”

  Out of patience, I sat up. “I changed my mind.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “About tonight.” I leaned toward him and whispered coyly, “You can lay a finger on me.”

  “Nah, I better not.” He still hadn’t even opened his eyes.

  Indignant, I straightened up. “What? Why not?”

  “Because you were right. If I’m really going to prove myself and earn your trust, I need to keep my promises.”

  I sat there open-mouthed, trying to decide if I was impressed or offended.

  “Plus, I’m sort of scared of your complicated vagina,” he went on, a smile creeping onto his face. “I’ve never seen one of those before. I might not know what to do with it.”

  “Forget it,” I snapped, flopping onto my side, facing away from him again. “Goodnight.”

  It wasn’t even three seconds later that I felt his body pressing up behind mine and his hand sliding up my thigh. “I’m only fucking with you,” he whispered, his lips against my ear. “I know exactly what to do with it.”

  “Get off me,” I told him. “I don’t want to play your little cat and mouse games.”

  “Come on, you love the games. You started this one.”

  “All you do is aggravate me.”

  “I know,” he said, slipping his hand between my legs. “And right now I want to aggravate you so hard.”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Liar.” His fingers had edged past my underwear and easily slid inside me.

  The hard length of his erection pressed at my tailbone, and I arched back against him. He buried his face in my neck, kissing my throat as his fingers worked magic between my legs. “I wish I didn’t want you this way,” I whispered. “You’re nothing but trouble.”

  “You love trouble,” he reminded me.

  I rolled onto my back and slid a hand inside his shorts, sheathing his hot, hard cock with my fist. “Fuck you.”

  In an instant his mouth was on mine as he thrust through my fingers and I moved my hips against his hand. We were greedy and impatient, as if we wanted to make up for lost time. Barely breaking the kiss, we yanked at shorts and underwear and tugged off shirts, our skin growing sweaty, our breathing labored. In no time at all, he was poised above me, my legs wrapped around him.

  “Is it okay?” he asked, teasing me with the tip of his cock.

  “It’s okay,” I panted, my body unwilling to wait for my mind to stop and think this through.

  Then he was easing inside, and I didn’t care about anything but how good it felt to have Oliver moving over me, filling me up, rocking into my body harder and deeper every time. I raked my nails down his back and grabbed his ass, pulling him tighter against me. I moaned and sighed and cursed, hating myself for wanting him so badly, for letting him do this to me again, for knowing exactly how to make me come.

  But I loved him for it too—loved the way he liked it a little rough, loved it when he got to his knees and yanked my hips onto his thighs, loved it when he rubbed his thumb over my clit while he drove his cock into me again and again and again. He groaned and growled and swore through clenched teeth. He told me he was going to come, and at the last second, he grabbed me beneath the arms and pulled me onto his lap, bringing me with him over the edge as I rode out the orgasm on his thick, throbbing cock.

  “Jesus,” I gasped, clinging to Oliver just to stay upright.

  “That wasn’t complicated at all.” He was out of breath too.

  “No,” I agreed. “It wasn’t. But we’ve complicated our business relationship significantly.”

  “We made it better, I’d say.”

  I leaned back to look him in the eyes, my arms still looped around his neck. “What are we going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “About us.” Sighing, I took in his messy hair and handsome face, complete with the tiny scar on his chin he’d gotten when we jumped off the barn roof. “I’m scared we’re going to ruin everything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what we do. That’s the pattern, Oliver! We get close to something good, and then we blow it up. We rush it. I’m not blaming you entirely, I do it too.”

  “We’re not doing that now,” he insisted. “We were too young before. I wasn’t ready.” He tipped his forehead to mine. “But I feel something for you. No matter how much time passes, or how long I go without seeing you, it never goes away. The moment I’m with you again, it hits me”—he put a hand on his bare chest—“right here.”

  A strange fear was threatening to choke me. “Oliver. No.”

  “Feel this.” He grabbed my hand and put it over his heart, which I felt thumping hard and fast beneath my palm.

  My throat constricted. “That’s from the sex.”

  “That’s from you.”

  “And what’s so different this time, huh?” I pulled my hand away. “How do I know this isn’t another Chicago, where everything seems real and perfect, but by the time the sun comes up, you’ve changed your mind? I know you.”

  “And I know you. If you didn’t feel something for me, if you didn’t think what we have is too good to ignore, you’d have stayed on your side of the tent.”

  “Damn you and this tent.” Sniffing again, I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “This isn’t Chicago, Chloe,” he said quietly, taking my head in his hands. “I know I fucked that up. I know you’re scared. I know you have no reason to believe me when I tell you things will be different now, but all I can do is ask you for one more chance. We could be so good together, Chloe.”

  “Oh, God.” I closed my eyes and he kissed me again, soft and sweet. “I’ve spent so many nights cursing you for what you d
id. You made me feel worthless and foolish and angry. You made me hate you.”

  “I know. I hated myself.”

  I looked at him again, swallowed against the lump in my throat. “But I still missed you. I still wanted you.”

  His lips tipped up. “So you’ll give me another chance?”

  I nodded. “But you have to promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “No games. No bullshit. You have to be honest with me.”

  “I will.”

  I looked him right in the eye and stripped my soul bare. “I was prepared to give you everything seven years ago. And you broke my heart.”

  He nodded slowly, accepting the truth.

  “But you’ve always had a piece of it,” I whispered as my throat closed up again.

  “I’m never giving it back.” He crushed his lips to mine and gently tipped me backward, and we lay skin to skin, making out and whispering in the dark like the teenagers we used to be. Eventually, we slid inside his sleeping bag and held each other as we drifted off to sleep, my head on his chest.

  When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in the tent. For a moment, I panicked—he left me again. Then I noticed all his stuff was still there and figured he must have gone to the bathroom or something. But when he didn’t return after a couple minutes, I threw on the first clothing I could find, stuck my flip-flops on my feet, and went outside.

  The morning air was crisp and cool, the woods damp, and I went back into the tent to grab my sweatshirt before heading down to the beach. Something told me that’s where Oliver would be.

  I saw him as soon as I stepped out from the trees and onto the bluff. He was sitting in the sand, facing the water with his arms draped over his knees. Zipping up my sweatshirt, against the slight chill, I made my way down the dune.

  “Morning,” I said, dropping onto my knees in the sand next to him.

  “Hey. What are you doing up so early?” His hair was sticking out in every direction, and he quickly tried to fix it.

  I put my hands in it, messing it up again. “Don’t. I like it messy. It’s cute.”

  He grinned and pulled me in front of him, settling me between his legs, his arms wrapped around my shoulders. “Sleep okay?”

  “I guess. Camping is fun, but I’m not gonna lie, I prefer a nice hotel.”

  He kissed my shoulder. “Same.”

  I hooked my hands over his forearms. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Okay enough.”

  “How long have you been down here?”

  “Not too long.” He paused. “I was a little restless this morning. Thinking about a lot of things. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  We were silent for a couple minutes, watching the waves roll in. “When I woke up and noticed you were gone, I got a little nervous,” I said.

  “Did you think I’d abandoned you in the woods?”

  “For a moment.”

  He pressed his lips to the side of my head. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  I squeezed his arms. “So what will we do today?”

  “I was thinking about that. I thought maybe we’d hike around the east side of the island on our way back to the docks to grab the ferry.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And then,” he went on, “I think we deserve a little celebration time. Alone.”

  I leaned to one side and looked back at him over my shoulder. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. When we get back to the mainland, I’m going to call my mom and tell her we’ll be one more night. Then I’m going to make reservations for us to stay somewhere a little less rustic.”

  My pulse raced a little. “Really?”

  “Yes. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. Will your mom be upset?”

  “I don’t care.” He kissed my temple. “I just got you all to myself, and I’m a selfish bastard. I don’t want to share.”

  “What about your grandmother’s birthday?”

  “She’ll still be ninety when we get there.”

  I laughed. “Our families are going to flip out about this. Our mothers are going to gloat.”

  “I don’t care. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Nothing else matters.”

  “I’m happy.” I tipped my head back and rested it on his chest.

  We ate some breakfast, packed up our campsite, and hiked around the east side of the island, reaching the docks before noon. We held hands almost the entire time. On the ferry ride, I rested my head on his shoulder and he kept a hand on my leg. When we got back to his car, he opened the passenger door for me and turned on the air conditioning before packing up the trunk with all our gear.

  While he did that, I glanced in the visor mirror, cringing at my frizzy hat hair, sunburned nose, and sweaty face. I needed a shower, a blow dryer, and some serious time in the shade.

  A hotel room would do nicely.

  We grabbed lunch in Leland, and while we sat at the table, Oliver reserved a room at an inn not far from Sleeping Bear Dunes, where we’d once gone as kids together. Then he called his mother.

  “Hey, Mom. Just wanted to let you know Chloe and I are going to be one more night.” He paused, holding the phone tighter to his ear. Then he glanced at me. “Yes. She’s right here.” Another pause. “Yes. I’ll tell her.”

  Tell me what? I wondered. And why was he looking a little nervous?

  “No! You can talk to her later.” His tone was vehement.

  Talk to me? Why on earth would his mother want to talk to me right now?

  Then he rolled his eyes. “Same here, Mom. I know. We’re looking forward to seeing you too. It’s only one extra night.”

  I sipped my iced tea, laughing when he made a jabbering gesturing with his hand, as if his mother wouldn’t stop talking. My mom was the exact same way.

  “Okay, Mom, gotta go. Chloe’s waiting for me, and you don’t want to miss the tournament. Yep, see you tomorrow. Bye.”

  “Tournament?” I asked. “What kind of tournament?”

  “Croquet. It’s very serious in my family.”

  “Oh my God. That is so Pemberton.” I laughed and set my iced tea on the table. “I’m going to use the restroom real quick. Be right back.”

  “Take your time.”

  I grabbed my purse and headed into the women’s room, thankful for a real toilet and sink. After I washed my hands, I quickly dug in my purse for my pack of birth control pills. Given what had gone on last night and what would likely continue for the foreseeable future, I’d have to be vigilant about them. Oliver and I needed a chance to make it work for the right reasons, real reasons—by choice, not because we were out to win a bet or prove something or impress each other. And definitely not because of a missed pill. But as I swallowed one, I found myself wondering if there would ever come a time when I wouldn’t worry about it so much.

  Before I went back to the table, I decided to call April real quick. She picked up right away.

  “You’re alive,” she said by way of hello. “Are you in a trunk?”

  I laughed. “No. I’m in a restaurant bathroom in Leland, but last night we were camping on South Manitou.”

  She gasped. “Alone?”

  “Alone in a tent.”

  Silence. “Did you?”

  “We did.” I cringed, feeling like I had to defend myself. “But it’s not what you think.”

  “You said you weren’t going to let him charm you.”

  “I know, I know.” I bit my lip. “But he seems different this time.”

  “What about Chicago?”

  “We talked about it. He apologized.”

  “What was his excuse?”

  “That he was young and immature. Not ready to face his feelings.”

  April sighed. “He still could have called you.”

  I stared at some graffiti on the wall. “You think I’m being stupid?”

  “No, of course not. I just know you tend to rush into things. But I also know that you two have a lot of his
tory.”

  “We do. And there’s just something about him I can’t resist, even though I know I should. He … gets to me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “It’s good chemistry. You don’t have to explain it. Just take it slow.”

  “I will.” A woman and her little girl came into the bathroom. “Listen, I have to go. We’re spending the night around here tonight and then heading to Harbor Springs tomorrow to see his family.”

  She laughed. “That’s not exactly taking it slow.”

  I laughed too as I went out the door. “I know. But it feels good right now, and we’re so excited about the distillery plans. I have tons to tell you when I get back.”

  “I can’t wait to hear them.” She hesitated. “I like Oliver, Chloe. I really do. And if he can help you see your distillery dream come true, I’ll like him even more.”

  “I feel like there’s a but coming.”

  “But as your big sister,” she went on, “I just want you to be cautious. You have a tendency to leap before you look.”

  “I know.” I looked up and saw Oliver smile at me, and my stomach went weightless. “I’ll be careful.”

  But as I dropped my phone back into my purse and made my way back to the table, I couldn’t help feeling like my grip on caution was getting weaker with every beat of my heart.

  Was I crazy to think this time it was real?

  16

  Chloe

  THEN

  “Chloe?”

  I was in line for the bar at a hospital charity gala when I heard my name. The deep voice had come from over my left shoulder, and I glanced behind me. “Oliver?”

  He grinned. “I thought that was you.”

  “From the back? How did you even recognize me?”

  “The tattoo.”

  “Oh. Duh.” I’d forgotten I was wearing a dress with a low back, and my hair was up too, making the line of script across my shoulder blades plainly visible.

  “How are you?” He leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I let him. He looked good, of course, perfectly turned out in a charcoal suit and striped tie.

  “Fine.”

  He grinned. “I’m fine too.”

  “I didn’t ask.”