Rhodium

by Elise Noble

  “But—”

  “Shh. No buts. And what’s with the cereal? Why didn’t you call Il Tramonto? Or Rhodium?”

  “I didn’t want to put anyone to any trouble.”

  He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “for fuck’s sake” and pulled out his phone. Two seconds later, he jabbered away in Italian, then hung up.

  “Dinner’s on its way.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Rather than replying, he picked me up, and I caught a whiff of my own body odour as he carried me through to the dining area. Could this evening get any more embarrassing? The white table was polished to such a high sheen I could make out the dark circles under my eyes in my reflection as he set me onto a seat. Oliver shrugged off his jacket and hung it carefully over one of the chair backs, then sat down opposite.

  “Aren’t you going to change? I mean, I’m feeling really underdressed here.”

  A bathrobe versus a suit—that was hardly fair.

  “Into what?”

  “Jeans?”

  “I don’t have any of those.”

  “You don’t have jeans?”

  “I don’t need them.”

  “Do you own anything but suits?”

  “Gym gear.”

  “That’s it? Nothing casual? Not even a pair of chinos? Or pyjamas?”

  Oliver shook his head then gave me a wolfish smile. “I sleep naked.”

  Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have gone there with the pyjamas. “What do you do to relax?”

  He stared towards the darkened drapes for a few seconds. “I don’t.”

  “What, nothing?”

  “Sex, sometimes. I run if I need to let off steam.”

  “You don’t even relax during sex. You do all the work.”

  I clapped a hand over my mouth, hardly able to believe I said that.

  He just laughed. “True. I guess I like to call the shots. But you enjoy that.”

  I went pink and tried to steer the conversation back onto a more appropriate track.

  “There must be something else. Reading books? Watching movies?”

  “It’s been a long time since I did anything but work.”

  The doorbell chimed, and he stood up, preventing me from asking more questions. Oliver didn’t have a single hobby? No wonder that stick never came out of his ass.

  He returned a minute later carrying another tray. What had he ordered?

  “Veal calabrese,” he said as he set the food down in front of me. “If you don’t like it, I’ll ask them to bring something else.”

  I’d only eaten veal a couple of times before, both with clients, but I didn’t mind giving it a go.

  “Thank you. Aren’t you eating?”

  “I had a dinner meeting.”

  “Oh.” Conversation was hard with Oliver. We lived in such different worlds, and I had no idea what to say. “The restaurant cooked it very quickly.”

  “Yes, and they’ll do the same for you if you call them.”

  “Bridget said you part-owned the restaurant?”

  “I do.”

  “So you like food? That’s kind of a hobby.”

  “I like money, and it makes a profit.”

  I tried a forkful of the veal, and it melted in my mouth. Oliver had made a good choice. Screw the pain pills—I needed alcohol. The red wine that came with the food slid down smoothly as well, a palate of rich fruitiness that certainly didn’t come from the bargain bin.

  And with alcohol came courage.

  “So we’re getting somewhere. You like sex, and you like money. What else?”

  He leaned back in his chair, thinking. “I like to win.”

  “You mean in court?”

  “I always used to say that winning a big trial was better than sex. I don’t know whether I’ll still feel that rush, but I damn well want to find out.”

  “Are you nervous about Carter?”

  “I wouldn’t admit it if I was.”

  “I’m terrified.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not intending to lose.”

  “I meant I’m terrified of getting on the stand. About spilling my secrets to a bunch of strangers and the media too.”

  Oliver fixed his gaze on me. “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  “I don’t know you,” I whispered.

  “But I know you.”

  “Most of the time I barely know myself, either.”

  He scraped his chair back across the floor and stood up. Was he leaving? What did I say? I went to get up too, but he waved me back down again.

  “Sit. Enjoy your food.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Always so curious, Steffie. Eat.”

  I ate every last morsel on the plate, and Oliver still hadn’t reappeared. Worse, when he’d carried me over to the table, I’d left my crutch in the kitchen, so unless I wanted to hop all the way back to my room, I was stuck.

  Some might say I was lucky, being stuck in a luxurious apartment like that, but Oliver confused me beyond measure, and I didn’t want to face Bridget the next morning, even if Oliver did say he’d speak to her. I craved my little bed at Imogen’s with the flowery linens I’d bought from the sale bin and the shelf full of battered books next to it. Luxury sucked.

  Then Oliver reappeared and picked me up again. Okay, so maybe some parts of my stay weren’t so bad. Being cradled against his chest beat hobbling. Except we bypassed my bedroom and carried on to the next door along.

  “Why are we going in here?”

  He didn’t answer, just pushed the door open. It was another bedroom, but the only light flickered from the en suite bathroom in the corner. Candles?

  “What is this?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need to learn to trust me.”

  “But—”

  He whispered in my ear, his lips brushing the edge. “Do it, princess.”

  Oliver’s voice sent shivers through me the same way it had on our first night together. I closed my eyes.

  I knew he’d taken me into the bathroom because the background light changed, and when he set me on my good foot, the tile was cool underneath. A gentle tug at my waist and the robe I wore fell undone.

  Humid air caressed my body, and I felt Oliver’s eyes on me as well, more invasive than any touch. My skin prickled under his gaze. He slid the robe off my shoulders, leaving me in my underwear, then with one light touch from his fingers to the clasp, I spilled out of my bra. He removed that as well, leaving me before him in only white cotton panties, accessorised by a cast and a bandage. I shouldn’t have felt sexy in the slightest, but as he moved around me, a fire sparked to life in my belly. It started as a slow smoulder, but with every light caress, the flames grew hotter.

  I gasped as he drew one nipple into his mouth, biting gently on the peak as it hardened. After giving the other the same treatment, he trailed the tip of his tongue along my collarbone. Did I ask for this? No. But perhaps Oliver had been right earlier when he said he knew me. Because even if I struggled to admit it, I wanted his hands anywhere he cared to put them.

  And right now, they swept down my stomach, lower, lower, avoiding the sweet spot completely as he parted my thighs. I felt a twinge of disappointment as I’d been hoping for something else entirely.

  “Patience, princess,” his soft voice came again, low and throaty.

  Dammit. He really could read my thoughts.

  A trail of soft kisses across each of my cheeks made my toes curl. Then, far too slowly, he hooked his thumbs in the sides of my panties and slid them down my legs. One hand cupped my mound.

  “I love that you’re bare down here.”

  Oh, thank goodness I waxed.

  I pressed into him, desperate for friction to relieve the building ache, but all I got was one stroke and a chuckle. Then he stepped back entirely, and I heard the rustle of clothing behind me. Oh, please tell me Oliver was getting naked this time? In both of our p
revious encounters, he’d stayed fully clothed, and like he said, I had a curiosity problem.

  I nearly sang hallelujah when he pressed back against me, flesh on flesh. And by the feel of him, there was muscle underneath, no fat. He wasn’t stacked like a bodybuilder, but he said he ran and his physique backed that up.

  “Open your eyes now, Steffie.”

  I did so, and the first thing I saw was my reflection in a giant mirror over the bathroom vanity, my cheeks flushed as need coursed through me. Oliver stood behind and swept my hair to one side, then kissed my neck before moving up to my jaw, my cheek, and finally my lips. Gasping, I broke eye contact with myself and turned my head. Then I saw the bath.

  The bedroom I slept in had a corner tub in the en suite, complete with whirlpool jets and expensive toiletries. But this bathroom came with a giant oval tub in the centre of the room, the kind of thing I’d thought only existed in movies. And it was two-thirds full of water and bubbles.

  “Ready?” Oliver asked, sliding his arms around my waist.

  “You’re giving me a bath?”

  “You’ll need to hook your cast over one side and your arm over the other.”

  Before I could think further, he lifted me up and stepped into the tub, then lowered us both so I nestled between his legs. Well, this was a new experience, possibly the most intensely erotic one of my life and a far cry from the superficial liaisons I’d gotten used to as a Ruby.

  The hot water bordered on painful, and the sensation wasn’t helped by Oliver heating things up further. But with little choice other than to stay in the bath, I relaxed back against his solid chest as he used a cup to wet my hair then lathered shampoo into it. Whimpers I couldn’t control escaped as his fingers dug into my scalp, removing days’ worth of tension with a few minutes of magic. He repeated the process with conditioner and combed it through to the ends.

  “Were you secretly a hairdresser?” I asked.

  “Never been anything but a lawyer.”

  “If you ever need an alternate career…”

  “Naked shampooing?”

  “Women would pay a fortune.”

  He leaned forward, closer to my ear. “I’m not for sale.”

  And neither was I anymore. Never again, no matter how poor I might end up. Oliver knew who I’d been, what I’d been, and yet he still gave me this. I realised at that moment I’d take everything he offered, no matter how lonely the nights got. Oliver’s touch was my drug.

  Once he’d rinsed the conditioner out, he took a washcloth and started on my body. I swear he didn’t miss an inch, and he saved the most intimate part for last. When his hand reached between my legs, he discarded the cloth and let his fingers do the work. Bolts of pleasure shot down my legs as he circled my nub, and I begged him in my mind to go for the centre. But of course he didn’t. With agonising slowness, he touched me everywhere but, driving me crazy until he slid a finger deep inside. I arched back, giving up on any sort of dignity as I surrendered to the sensations he unleashed. Then his thumb joined in and I fell apart.

  Luckily, he kept hold of me so I didn’t drown, and I melted back into him as the ripples subsided.

  “You never look more beautiful than when you come,” he whispered.

  “How about you?” I wiggled my butt, and his hard cock rubbed against me.

  “Tonight’s about you, princess, not me.”

  “Why can’t it be about both of us?”

  I leaned forwards a smidgen then reached behind me to grasp his length, and I couldn’t help feeling a certain satisfaction when he groaned. He always fought so hard to stay in control, and I wanted to see him lose it, just a little.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “My arm and ankle are fine.”

  “I didn’t mean in that way.”

  I got what he was saying, but I’d come a long way since he first walked out on me. I’d never pretend to understand Oliver Rhodes completely, but I knew not to expect commitment. That offer wasn’t on the table. My head got that, and my heart would have to work with it. My body? My body wanted him in every way possible.

  “I’m not looking for hearts and flowers, Oliver.”

  Now when I twisted to look at him, I got a lopsided smile.

  “I can do the flowers if you want.”

  “I’ll settle for another orgasm. And maybe some freesias.”

  He chuckled and pressed forwards. “Are you on the pill, princess?”

  “Yes, and I’m clean. I got tested after Rubies, and I haven’t been with anyone but you since.”

  “My results were clear two weeks ago, and I haven’t wanted any other woman since that night at Riverley.”

  I’d barely had time to process that confession when he tilted me forwards and slid inside. Bath sex was a new experience, but I liked it already.

  Oliver moved slowly at first, smooth strokes as our bodies adjusted to each other. Each time he pushed in, that little bundle of nerves hidden deep inside sent me a thank-you note. I gripped the side of the bath as Oliver thrust harder, faster, both of us ignoring the water sloshing over the sides. He reached a hand between my legs again, ensuring I exploded at the same time as him. The stars bursting behind my eyelids eclipsed the candles as I came down from my high, and Oliver brushed soft kisses over the back of my neck.

  “Maybe you don’t need a new hobby,” I told him once I could speak again. “This one’s just fine.”

  “It beats knitting.”

  I lay back in his arms, enjoying the feel of him around me until the water went cold. I tried to ignore the goose bumps popping up on my arms, but Oliver didn’t.

  “Time to get you to bed.”

  He rose, dripping, and lifted me with him. My right leg had gone to sleep where it met the edge of the tub, and I wiggled my toes to try and work some feeling back.

  Oliver wrapped a towel around my hair then patted me dry with a second. I used the time to sneak glances at him, seeing as he hadn’t bothered to cover himself up. I’d wondered after the evening at Rhodium whether he was shy about his body, but I knew now that he had no reason to be. Yes, Imogen was one hundred percent right. Oliver was hot as hell. I longed to reach out and trace his abs with a finger, but I wasn’t sure how he’d react, and after what he’d just done for me, I didn’t want to risk upsetting him.

  That time was past.

  Once I was dry, he picked me up again and carried me back to my room. He’d already laid a towel on my pillow and turned back the comforter, and now he tucked me underneath it.

  “Sweet dreams, princess.” He leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips.

  “Will you stay with me?”

  His eyes clouded. “I can’t.”

  “Why do you always leave?”

  “It’s the only way I know how to do this.”

  “But—”

  Oliver shook his head. “Don’t, Steffie. If you want me to stop, I will, but I can’t offer more.”

  I longed to pull him into the bed with me, but I’d gone into this with my eyes open and I wasn’t about to beg. Instead, I took his hand and brought his knuckles to my lips.

  “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  There were two answers to that—the sensible one and the only one I could give.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded once, then backed away.

  “I hope you have sweet dreams too,” I whispered.

  CHAPTER 24

  WHEN I GOT to the kitchen the next morning, feeling both human and out of this world, there was no sign of Oliver, but Bridget was stirring something in a mixing bowl.

  “Toast?” she asked, giving me an obviously forced smile. Her lips may have curved up, but her eyes were hard.

  “Yes, please.”

  She rinsed her hands and walked to the refrigerator. “Oliver said I’m to make sure you eat lunch.”

  Oh, so he had spoken to her. It didn’t seem to have made much of a difference to her attitude.
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  “I won’t need much. More toast is fine.”

  I didn’t want to be a burden, an annoyance, or anything else that would make both our lives more awkward.

  “I’ll bring it to your room.”

  Guess I knew where I’d be staying today. She obviously didn’t want me hanging around her, and I had to confess to the feeling being mutual.

  The front door slammed, and we both jerked our heads around. Had Oliver come back? I found myself wishing he had, because I needed help to thaw the frosty atmosphere, and I got half my wish.

  “Morning!” Dan called out from the doorway.

  She held at least six bags in each hand, and she dumped them all on the floor just inside the kitchen before rushing over to hug Bridget.

  The older woman smiled properly this time, proving that those muscles did work. It was just me she hated.

  Once Dan let go, she looked over at me and raised an eyebrow.

  “Miss Amor is staying with Oliver this week,” Bridget informed her.

  “Awesome!”

  Bridget’s pursed lips said she didn’t share Dan’s sentiment, and Dan gave her a nudge with her shoulder.

  “Oh, lighten up, Bridgie. Stef’s one of the good guys.”

  “Someone has to protect that boy from making mistakes,” Bridget muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

  “I know, but you don’t need to worry with Stef, I promise. She’s not another Kelly.”

  Kelly? Who was Kelly?

  Dan left Bridget and headed over to me, but before I could say anything, she engulfed me in a hug.

  “Oliver said you’d had an accident, but I didn’t realise he’d squirrelled you away here, the sly old git. That’s great, though. I haven’t seen you for ages, so we can have lunch.” She looked at her watch. “Well, brunch. I have a meeting at twelve.”

  Her screwed-up face told me she didn’t relish the thought of it.

  I pointed at my leg. “I can’t get very far.”

  “We can go to Il Tramonto. They don’t officially open until lunchtime, but the chef will cook us something if I ask nicely.”

  “Are you sure you’re not too busy?”

  “I’m always busy, but taking a break for Mario’s food is never a hardship, believe me.” She shoved my plate of half-eaten toast away. “Go on, get dressed and then we can go.”