The First Time We Met: The Oxford Blue Series #1

by Croft, Pippa

  Fuck, this is awkward. ‘Oh, Scott, I didn’t expect …’

  ‘Aren’t they the best kind of presents? The ones you didn’t expect?’

  ‘I guess so, but I haven’t got you anything.’

  ‘You didn’t know I was going to turn up, did you? If you had, I’d have expected at least a gift-wrapped Porsche, now that you’re dating Lord Hunt.’

  He laughs at my indignant face, opens his rucksack and pulls out a small parcel. ‘Here you go. Don’t expect diamonds.’

  My hand goes to my throat. I wore the necklace to the lunch. Maybe it was a little too much for daytime, but I hate the thought of something that beautiful lying in a drawer all the time.

  ‘So, are you going to open it?’

  Nervously, I lift the lid on the small box. I really hope he hasn’t spent a lot of money and that it’s not jewellery. I wish he hadn’t bothered at all, but then I see what’s inside the box and burst out laughing in relief and delight.

  ‘You like it?’

  I lift out the object. ‘It’s very, very cute.’

  ‘Be careful. It cost a fortune.’

  ‘I’ll treasure it.’ When I hold the snow globe aloft and shake it, a glittery blizzard swirls around the tiny model of the White House inside the dome. It’s the height of kitsch, but I can’t stop smiling. ‘Where did you get this? They don’t sell these in Oxford, as far as I know.’

  Scott comes to look at the globe. ‘My sister has one at home so I ordered it from the White House online gift shop. I thought you might appreciate a reminder of home today. Classy, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s a true work of art. Thank you.’ I get up and hug him briefly. Immediately, I feel guilty, not because of what Alexander might think – I don’t care about that – but because I might be giving Scott the wrong idea. But, to do him credit, he looks perfectly comfortable. He really is a lovely guy; he deserves someone super-nice.

  ‘So what are you doing for the rest of the evening?’ I ask, when we’ve finished the champagne and chatted a little about his rowing training and my course.

  ‘Eating the contents of my fridge then I ought to get some rest. The trials have almost finished me off and we’re back on the river at seven a.m. What about you? Will Alexander be back tonight?’

  ‘Um … I don’t know. He might, or he might not.’

  Scott seems distinctly unimpressed. ‘Why don’t you come out for a quick drink? I’m starving.’

  ‘I thought you said you were tired.’

  ‘The champagne has worked wonders. Look, you said yourself that you aren’t going to wait around for the guy, and if he chooses to have better things to do what can he expect?’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  He folds his arms. ‘Really?’

  ‘Trust me, it isn’t,’ I say firmly, knowing I can’t tell Scott where Alexander is, not that I have any idea myself. Alexander said he’d call to let me know when he’d set off for Oxford, so I’ll have plenty of time to get back here or meet him at his house. I pick up my keys. ‘I guess a quick drink would be fun and it is Thanksgiving …’

  Some time later, I walk back up the stairs, mellow with champagne and the two glasses of mulled wine we shared outside, warming ourselves by the old-fashioned brazier in the courtyard of the inn. We talked about Washington; apparently Todd got a promotion in his father’s law firm and is dating a girl from the office. A month ago, that would have had me lying awake wondering whether to be relieved or hurt. Now, I just don’t care. I check my watch, to find it’s past nine p.m.

  ‘Happy Thanksgiving.’

  Above me, Alexander leans over the banister and my heart-rate picks up as I hurry up the final flight.

  ‘Alexander … how long have you been back?’

  ‘A little while.’

  I climb the last few steps, feeling disappointed and irrationally guilty – and annoyed with myself for feeling bad that I was out when he finally got here. Under the harsh light of the landing, he’s even more gorgeous than I remember, but there are dark shadows under his eyes and, is it my imagination, or are his cheekbones a little sharper?

  ‘How was Thanksgiving?’ he asks, waiting for me in the centre of the landing.

  ‘Better than I expected … You know, I kind of expected you to call and let me know you were on your way.’

  ‘I wanted to surprise you. Is that OK?’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘Then come here.’

  His kiss is deep enough to blot out the world. It’s also kind of prickly because I don’t think he’s shaved for days. I could swear he’s holding on to me a little tighter than he normally does, and as I renew my acquaintance with his body again the shivery feeling I get tells me I’ve missed him more than I’d ever admit.

  He squeezes my fingers. ‘Your hands are cold,’ he says.

  ‘I forgot my gloves.’

  Where have you been?’

  ‘Just to the pub with a few friends. I’d have made sure I was back, if I’d known you were on your way.’

  ‘Like I say, I wanted to surprise you.’

  I haven’t told him about Scott; it’s not important but I get the feeling Alexander might make a big deal out of it and, right now, I just don’t want the drama.

  ‘You have.’

  ‘Good. Now, I’d like to go home. I need a shower, a shave and some decent food, but first I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  Within minutes we’re back at his house and for the third time today I get to open a gift-wrapped package – which Alexander is ‘helping’ me to try on. A fire burns in the hearth and the thick curtains are drawn against the dark night, yet I’m shivering, partly because the house has been empty for a few days, but mainly because I’m naked except for a pair of Saint Laurent pointed pumps with black satin ribbons that tie round the ankle, and the Cartier necklace.

  ‘Is the bow perfect yet?’ My calves wobble a little as the five-inch heels spike the Persian rug.

  ‘Not quite.’

  Kneeling at my feet, Alexander adjusts the knot of the satin bow on my right shoe. The left one took an age until he was satisfied.

  ‘Surely it will do?’ Impatience tugs at my voice combined with a burgeoning sense that if I stand here any longer, with his hands caressing my ankles, I will want to drag him down on to the sofa.

  He gives the bow a tiny tweak and glances up at me. ‘You’ve clearly never been to Sandhurst. I was made to do two hours’ drill in the pouring rain once because the toothpaste on my brush wasn’t the regulation length. Since then, the phrase “It’ll do” has been absent from my vocabulary.’

  ‘If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not at Sandhurst.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it. Everyone would be court-martialled if you walked into the mess looking like this. However, I’m aware it’s a little cool in here, so for now I’ll allow you to pass.’

  As he gets up, his strong fingers glide up the backs of my calves and thighs.

  I wobble a little. ‘And how am I supposed to walk in these?’

  ‘You’re not. I’ll get my driver to drop us right outside Covent Garden. I hope you like Giselle?’

  It’s one of my favourites. ‘I suppose it will do,’ I tease, still amazed that he has arranged tickets to the ballet tomorrow evening as a Thanksgiving gift and, I suspect, compensation for being away from me. I haven’t been to Covent Garden on my previous trips to London and I can’t wait.

  He stands up and assesses his handiwork.

  ‘Now, are you satisfied?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m never satisfied, Lauren, you should know that.’ Taking my hand, he helps me drop to the rug so that we’re face to face.

  I run my fingertip over his now-smooth chin and he grimaces. ‘Sorry about earlier. I managed to grab a shower, but I didn’t have time to shave.’

  ‘I don’t care if you’d walked in here straight from some battle ground.’

  ‘Oh, believe me you would, but I wanted to get to the shoe shop before it cl
osed.’

  ‘Now, that is a phrase I didn’t think I’d ever hear from Alexander Hunt’s lips.’ I push him back on the carpet, sitting astride one thigh, my wet sex pressing into the iron-hard muscle. He grips my hips and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe I’m here – or he is.

  ‘You look sensational, Lauren. I’ve wanted this for the past five days.’

  ‘Ditto.’

  He exhales sharply when I unzip the fly on his trousers and tug them down over his hips, as he realizes what I’m going to do to.

  I enjoyed this with Todd, mainly because he enjoyed it, but I never craved to do it like I do now. ‘I have to taste you.’ My fingers circle the base of his shaft and I lower my head and close my mouth around the head of his penis.

  He’s so aroused that his cock is almost too big for me but I love the heat and taste of his flesh inside my mouth and his groan of pure animal delight as I suck gently on the crown. I press my damp sex against his thigh, rubbing my clit against the muscle. I slide my lips from his penis and circle it tightly at the base. Alexander tangles his fingers in my hair, tugging gently at the roots while I flick my tongue along his hard shaft. It hurts a little but the sharp little tugs turn me on even more.

  ‘Do you know what you do to me?’ His voice is fractured, unlike him. I love tearing down his defences and his thighs grow rigid as I touch my tongue to the purple head. ‘Fuck, stop!’

  I lift my head up. ‘You’re not enjoying it?’

  ‘God, yes, but I want to shag you even more.’

  He helps me to my feet and drags off his shoes and trousers. Then we’re up against the sofa, my hands braced on the arm, my calves taut as high-wires in the heels, the ribbons cutting into my calves. He pushes me down over the sofa and his fingers slide between the cheeks of my ass. Briefly, I tense up, thinking he’s going to take me from behind like Todd once tried to. I hated it, and with Alexander the thought scares me too – yet also makes my gut clench with irrational lust.

  His finger slides between my lower lips and into the slick heat of my body.

  ‘You’re so ready.’

  I whimper my response as he withdraws his finger and massages my clitoris with my own juices. He slides in easily, yet still he’s so full and thick and hot. I wriggle back against his thighs to take in his whole length. ‘Lean back.’ I straighten and he stimulates my clit with his fingers, pushing the feeling out from my bud throughout my pelvis. Everything tightens around my nub until I’m swollen and desperate.

  ‘Close?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  My pussy ripples spasms around him and he starts to thrust harder. I slap my hands back on the couch arm as he drives in faster and harder. My climax builds, until I want to scream for release. Alexander slams into me, my fingers dig into the couch and I come, a shuddering, whimpering mess, holding nothing back from him.

  It’s a crisply beautiful Saturday morning at the start of Eighth Week, with a cloudless blue sky. A light sheen of frost lingers in the shadows on the front quad lawn. My run has gone great, the sex I had with Alexander this morning has left me with a smile on my face, and as for the ballet last night – that was all I’d dreamed of and more. Only the prospect of the looming vacation at the end of this week clouds my mood. I’m so looking forward to seeing my parents again but that also means I’ll have to be without Alexander for six weeks.

  Despite this, not even the sight of Rupert strolling up to me can ruin my morning.

  He smirks when he spots me walking in through the Lodge. ‘You look fit,’ he says, and by now I’ve been here long enough to recognize the double entendre.

  ‘You should try it some time,’ I shoot back between breaths.

  ‘Alexander not joining you on your run? Or have you worn him out?’

  I grit my teeth. ‘He’s working on an essay.’

  ‘I suppose he’s got a lot of catching up to do with all his extra-curricular activities. I really don’t know where you both find the energy.’

  ‘If you ran, Rupert, you might find you have the energy. But I can’t stand here chatting to you in the cold – I need to take a shower.’

  ‘If you want company, you only have to ask. I know you get lonely when Alexander’s away.’

  ‘Not that lonely.’ I start walking towards my room.

  ‘I suppose I’ll see you next weekend at Falconbury.’

  His voice stops me dead in my tracks and I turn back. ‘What?’

  ‘At the Falconbury hunt, of course.’

  ‘What hunt?’

  Rupert frowns. ‘The hunt. The one the marquess holds annually on the Falconbury estate. I would have thought that Alexander had already mentioned it to you. Everyone’s going down to the house on Saturday morning, although you’ll already be there, I presume, knowing how Alexander likes to arrive a couple of days early?’

  Through my clouds of breath, I see Rupert grinning at me like a troll, his eyes glinting with delight. I realize that I have been lured into a trap and swallowed the bait whole. The only thing I can do now is try to call the bastard’s bluff. ‘Oh that … Alexander mentioned there was some kind of event this weekend, but I didn’t connect it with the hunt.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t … but I’m delighted Alexander has “mentioned” it to you.’ He brackets his fingers round the word. ‘It would have been very strange if he hadn’t because I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to show Falconbury to you and introduce you to his father. I’m surprised he hasn’t taken you before, but now’s your chance. You do hunt, don’t you?’

  I paste on a smile. ‘I’ll see you there, Rupert, if you have the energy.’

  Turning away from his smirking face, I walk towards my room as if nothing is wrong. Inside, my mind is whirling like a fairground ride. Alexander hasn’t so much as hinted about the hunt or the weekend.

  Yet Rupert said that ‘everyone’ was going down to the estate on Saturday.

  Everyone, it seems, except me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Why?

  That is the question which has occupied my mind since I left Rupert smirking in the quad yesterday morning. Why hasn’t Alexander asked me to his home, to the biggest event of the year at Falconbury? The event that, if Rupert is to be believed, everyone has been invited to?

  It’s Sunday lunchtime and Alexander still hasn’t said a word about the weekend. Last night, we went for cocktails at the Duke of Cambridge with Immy, Skandar and some of the tennis Blues, and then made love in his house until the small hours. It has killed me not to ask him anything, but I want the invitation to come from him; it has to come from him. Until now I have kidded myself that he has been too busy working to discuss it or that he wanted to keep it a surprise for Saturday night, but as the time ticks by that hope – that delusion – has ebbed away.

  He is acting super-nice to me, but I feel as if it’s not his hand in mine as we stroll along the gravelled drive through Christ Church Meadow towards the river. I feel as if it is not him walking at my side as we turn out of the avenue of trees and on to the bank of the Isis, but a stranger.

  ‘Would you like to go somewhere for lunch?’

  His words cut into my thoughts. I focus on a lone sculler sweeping past on the river, which is black under the louring skies. ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘You don’t care?’

  It was a bratty reply and unworthy of me, as he might say, but I’m not sure I can hold back much longer.

  ‘I meant that I don’t mind.’

  ‘We could go to Quod,’ he suggests as we walk along the riverside path. ‘Or I can drive us out to the Trout or the Mole at Toot Baldon if you fancy getting out of Oxford. I know how claustrophobic this place can be.’ From the edge in his voice, I’m certain he guesses something is wrong.

  ‘I guess I’m not hungry today.’

  He stops by the bridge that leads to the college boathouses. ‘Lauren, what the hell is the matter with you?’

  ‘I’m –’

  ‘Please, don’t i
nsult my intelligence by saying “fine”.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare insult the intelligence of the great Alexander Hunt!’

  Birds scatter in the tree above our heads and a middle-aged woman purses her lips at our raised voices, as if to ask how we dare ruin the tranquillity of this beautiful place. Alexander touches my elbow.

  ‘What’s the matter with you? Is it something I’ve done?’ His voice bristles with irritation.

  ‘Why would it be something you’ve done?’

  ‘Because you wouldn’t behave like this for any other reason. Unless you’ve had some bad news from home?’

  ‘Nothing like that.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I just want to know why you think it’s OK not to ask me to your home next weekend.’

  There’s a pause that lengthens before he finally murmurs, ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘From Rupert. Unless you were going to ask me today? Is that it, Alexander? You were waiting to surprise me?’

  Guilt is stamped on his face. Good. ‘No, I wasn’t waiting to surprise you.’

  My stomach clenches sharply. ‘So you weren’t going to tell me about it?’

  ‘Of course I was going to tell you about it and I’m sorry you found out from Rupert. He should mind his own fucking business, as usual.’

  ‘What else did you expect? He assumed I’d been invited and why wouldn’t he? I pretended you had mentioned it because I wanted to give you the chance to ask me, but I was obviously wrong.’

  His back stiffens as he retreats inside his armour. ‘I should have told you I was going to be away this weekend, but I kept putting it off.’

  Words almost fail me at the shock of realizing he had no intention of including me in the weekend, but then they burst out, without restraint.

  ‘I’m flying home next week and it was going to be our last weekend together. You knew that!’

  ‘Lauren, you’ve got things completely wrong. This is the hunt, remember, and I know you’ll hate it. The whole thing is tedious and full of liggers, hangers-on and social climbers who you’ll probably loathe on sight. I wouldn’t go back to Falconbury myself, but I have no choice.’