by Elise Noble
He dropped a kiss on my cheek. “Not that tired.”
But he was flagging—I saw it in the way he slouched back on the sofa rather than maintaining his usual uptight posture—and while he nibbled on part of the wall from the exercise yard, I came up with my own idea for a birthday gift.
I swallowed my last bite and took a mouthful of the champagne Bradley had thoughtfully included. I was about to put one of the most valuable tricks Chrissie had taught me into practice.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asked as I wriggled forwards and dropped a cushion in front of him.
“You’ll see. Sit back and forget your shot-calling for a few minutes.”
I dropped to my knees in front of him, and at first, I thought he might object as I reached for his belt. But he leaned back and slid his ass forwards along the leather to give me better access.
He was already getting hard as I drew his zipper down, and I resisted the urge to make a “not bad for an old man” joke. Totally inappropriate. And considering half of my more mature clients had needed the talents of a vacuum cleaner combined with a handful of little blue pills to get them going, Oliver gave me an easy ride.
I supported myself on the couch with my left elbow, then gripped the base of his cock with my right hand as I drew his length into my mouth. Not the most elegant of positions, but tonight needs must.
Oliver fisted his hands in my hair as I sucked him deeper, and deeper, and deeper. I locked my gaze on his as I opened my throat and took him all the way to the base, loving his look of surprise when he realised what I was doing, and even more so the long groan he let out.
Sure, I knew he was only allowing me the illusion of control, but tonight, I planned to take advantage of it.
In all my time as a Ruby, I’d never once enjoyed giving a blow job, but tonight with Oliver, things were different. I relished every half smile, every dirty word he muttered, every twitch of his cock, and by the time his control slipped further and he started flexing his hips, I longed to reach between my own legs to relieve the ache building there. But with one wrist bandaged and my balance precarious, I had to settle for clenching my thighs together as he fucked my mouth.
I knew he was about to come when his legs started trembling, and I gripped one of his ass cheeks with my good hand as he exploded into my throat. And “exploded” was the only word for it. You’d think he’d been fasting for months rather than a day.
The only sound in the room was Oliver’s laboured breathing as he hauled me up onto the sofa.
“That sure beat the cake, princess.”
“Tasted sweeter.”
He groaned again and lifted me so I straddled him. “Are you comfortable?”
I managed a nod as his hand slipped beneath my skirt. One long kiss and a few strokes of his fingers later, he wasn’t the only one having a happy birthday.
CHAPTER 26
I WORKED MY jaw from side to side as I walked into the kitchen the next morning. Oliver was bigger than most, and I was out of practice, so a touch of stiffness had set in overnight.
Oliver looked up from the paper he was reading at the breakfast bar. “Sore?”
“A little.” A blush rose up my cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“I mean, why aren’t you at work?”
He patted the stool next to him, and I shuffle-hopped over and took a seat. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Bridget watching from her position by the stove as Oliver kissed me softly on the lips. I waited for the scowl, but all I got was a twitch of her mouth.
“We need to go over those questions this morning.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry. If I could avoid the interrogation, I would, but I can’t. I thought we’d do as much as possible here then finalise things in the office at some point.”
Annnnnd bump. Back to earth after the magic of yesterday evening. “Okay. But I can’t pretend I’m looking forward to it.”
“Understandable. Let’s have some breakfast, and then we can start.”
“I’m not really hungry.” Funnily enough, my appetite had just flown out the window. By jet.
“Are you sure? There’s plenty of cake left.”
“I think I’d throw up if I ate another mouthful of that. Besides, I have a new favourite dessert.”
“Steffie, if you say things like that, I’ll never get any work done.”
“You could take a day off.”
He stared as if I’d just morphed into Medusa. “I don’t take time off.”
“Maybe you should start with an hour.” I looked around to check Bridget was out of sight before I slid my hand into Oliver’s lap. “Then work your way up.”
“You’re a bad influence, princess.”
I grinned at him, although it was a little forced because dread was already building over the interview.
“That’s what I’m aiming for.”
Oliver’s study in the penthouse, his man cave, was a replica of his office at work—an oversized desk, a leather sofa, and shelves and shelves full of boring books without a novel in sight. He took a seat in the high-backed chair behind his desk while I plopped onto the couch.
That feeling of déjà vu hit again when he got out a legal pad, twirled an expensive fountain pen around his fingers, then glanced at the watch that cost more than any car I could ever hope to buy.
“Are you ready to start?”
He popped the cap off the pen as I stuffed the ends of my hair into my mouth and started chewing. Stress made me do it, but for the last two days, I couldn’t remember fiddling with my hair once. No, I wasn’t ready to start, but I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter.
“I guess. Could you just not look at me?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s bad enough having to talk about this, but when you watch it feels as if you’re judging.”
Oliver shoved his chair back and walked over. “I promise I’m not.”
“But that’s what it feels like. And then you write down all the horrible stuff.”
“Then let’s try something different.” He returned to his desk, opened the drawer, and took out a small object. “Digital recorder.” He held it up as he sat down beside me. “Swing your legs onto the seat.”
With a bit of shuffling, he arranged us so he faced forwards on the sofa, and I sat side-on with my back to him, looking out across the roof terrace as he wrapped an arm around my waist. Rather than seeing his eyes, I got a view of the Richmond skyline, and…
“Is that a hot tub?” It sure looked like one, nestled among pots of tropical foliage and minimalistic wicker-and-glass furniture. If only it were summer, I could have spent all day out there with a book or a magazine and escaped Bridget’s evil glares.
“My questions first, and I’ll record your answers rather than taking notes. That way we can just talk, okay? We’ll build it up until speaking about what happened doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Okay.”
“So, let’s start at the very beginning…”
For the next three hours, we went over everything I remembered about Carter and my time at Rubies. Oliver’s voice remained even and calm while mine wavered between a whisper and high-pitched horror. Putting my ex-career into words made me feel sick to the pit of my stomach, and if Oliver had never wanted to touch me again afterwards, I couldn’t have blamed him. I was damaged goods, shattered on the inside while I worked hard to maintain a neutral facade.
But he kept his arm around me, occasionally stroking the skin on the back of my hand or kissing my hair when I described something particularly ugly. He lent me his strength, and boy did I need it. By the time he reached over to click the recorder off, I felt drained.
But then he whispered in my ear. “Yes, it’s a hot tub. You want to upgrade from bath sex to hot-tub sex?”
“You still want me after all that?”
“It’s your past, Steffie. Don’t let it cloud your future.”
In the last few days, I’
d come to understand Oliver better. Dan said he fucked to forget, and I got that now. When I spoke about the men from Rubies, I felt their fingers on my skin again, their warm breath on my cheeks as they took their fill. And I needed to erase those memories, or at least overwrite them with something better.
Oliver wasn’t the prince I’d dreamed of when I was a little girl, the one who rode in on a white horse and saved me from my sorry existence, but I could cast him as a magician. When he got his hands on me, he blocked out the bad.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
He didn’t speak for a few seconds, and then he sighed. My stomach sank.
“Yes, Steffie, I still want you.”
A tiny bit of the heaviness in my chest fell away, banished to the abyss. “Then I like the sound of the hot tub.”
He twisted my neck to claim my mouth, and this time he didn’t hold back. I got tongue, teeth, and a little sweat.
“Just give me a minute to send Bridget on an errand.”
Oliver carried me in from the chilly air, dried me off, and got me presentable in time for Bridget’s return, then headed into the office. That left me to flop back on the bed and phone Imogen, because while Oliver had been demonstrating the features of his hot tub, she’d called four times.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yep, except I’ve got the morning off and I haven’t spoken to you for three days. I’ve been a terrible friend, but I’m so…” She paused to yawn. “Tired.”
“You haven’t been terrible at all. You had a big week this week.”
“It’s almost over. Three more evenings at Rhodium and things’ll be back to normal. How are you? Do you hurt?”
“I’ve been taking painkillers, so the bandages are more of an inconvenience than anything else.”
“I bet. My sister broke her arm a few years back, and I had to wash her hair. Do you want me to help with yours? If it’s really yucky, I could come tomorrow morning?”
I ran my fingers through it and found the ends still damp. “I’ll be okay until Sunday.”
“Has the hot lawyer been taking care of you?”
“Yes, he’s been really kind.”
“And has he been taking care of you?”
I almost choked. “Imogen! I can’t answer that.”
“I knew it!”
“You can’t tell anyone! He could get into big trouble because I’m a witness on his case.”
“My lips are sealed. I don’t suppose you managed to get Malachi’s phone number?”
“I forgot to ask.”
“Pleeeeeease.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Although exactly how I was supposed to phrase that with Oliver was a mystery. My horny friend wants Malachi’s number because he’s hot? I’d have to give it some thought.
“Thanks! So, girl time on Monday afternoon?”
“You bet.”
“I’ll make sure I buy chocolate.”
Once Imogen had hung up, I sank back against the pillows and closed my eyes. Despite my rocky start here, the last two nights had blown me away. What would the weekend bring? And would I want to go home on Sunday?
And Friday night brought me…nothing. Nothing but a one-line text from Oliver.
Oliver Asshole Rhodes: Won’t be back tonight—client event. See you tomorrow.
The stilted message of a man not used to keeping a girl informed of his whereabouts. Even so, I figured I should probably change his middle name on my phone, seeing as he’d made the effort.
What was his actual middle name? Did he even have one? I knew so little about him, and most of what I did know confused the hell out of me. Oliver was bad, but oh-so-good at the same time. I’d always dreamed of a man who’d take care of me, who’d be there for more than a quick fumble in the dark, and Mr. Rhodes wasn’t him. But when he touched me? He took me to a happier place.
No sooner had I updated his name to something more appropriate, the phone pinged again.
Oliver Rocky Rhodes: Sweet dreams. O.
CHAPTER 27
I’D HOPED BRIDGET wouldn’t work on the weekends, but no such luck. When I cracked open my door on Saturday morning, she was dusting the picture frames in the hallway right outside.
“Breakfast?” she asked.
I almost said “no” and dived back under the comforter, but I didn’t want to stoop to her level of rudeness.
“That would be lovely.”
She’d already put bread in the toaster by the time I got into the kitchen, and I didn’t dare tell her I’d rather have cereal. I hopped onto a stool at the counter as she slid a mug of filter coffee over to me.
“Thank you.”
I took a sip, hoping she’d go away, but she kept hovering. Why? What was wrong? She made me nervous.
After a few seconds, she cleared her throat. “Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”
Well, that was a surprise. “So am I.”
Because I’d rather have spent the last few days back in jail than tiptoe-hopping around Bridget. At least the junkies and alcoholics hadn’t constantly judged me.
“I just worry about Oliver. I don’t like to see him get hurt.”
“You mean like what happened with Kelly?”
“Exactly.”
“Who was she?”
“We don’t talk about that girl. Ever.”
Whoa. I backed off in a hurry. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. And I assure you I don’t want to hurt Oliver. I mean, I don’t know exactly what’s going on between us, but… I just enjoy spending time with him.”
“That’s what he said about you. So for his sake, we should try to get along.”
He did? I forced a smile. “I’d like that.”
The toast popped up, making me jump. Bridget hurried over to rescue it, which gave me a welcome reprieve from the awkward conversation.
“Very well. Do you want juice? Or a smoothie?”
“I’d love a smoothie, thank you.”
With Bridget thawing a little, I risked spending the day in the lounge, where I could curl up on the sofa for another movie marathon. She even brought me popcorn and a sandwich for lunch, which meant when Oliver got back in the evening and asked me what I wanted for dinner, I wasn’t particularly hungry.
“Something from Rhodium then? They do small plates,” he suggested.
Despite working there, I’d still never tried the food. “Sounds perfect.”
He ordered over the phone, then sank down onto the sofa next to me. “Good movie?”
“Yes, but we can watch something else if you want.”
“You like the old stuff?”
“I do. Everything seemed so much less complicated in those days. Women got married young, had a couple of kids, and lived happily ever after. I guess I was born half a century too late.”
“That’s what you want? Marriage and children?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. When I left Georgia, I wanted to be a career girl, but now I’m so tired. After everything that’s happened, I kind of wish someone would just take care of me.”
Most men would run a mile at hearing that, but as Oliver had made it clear a relationship was off the cards, I felt safe revealing the truth. In some ways, he was easy to talk to.
“You’ve never thought of finishing college?”
“Every damn day. But that takes money, and I don’t have it. I don’t want to serve coffee for the rest of my life, though.” I paused, not sure whether I should ask for a favour. But then I figured, what the hell? “Imogen thought Louis might let me work-shadow him at Rhodium to get some experience. Do you think he would?”
“You want to get into management?”
“It’s what I was studying to do, but it’s harder to get a foot in the door without a degree.”
Oliver stayed silent for a moment, thinking. “Not Rhodium. But I can set something up with Giovanni at Il Tramonto. Would that be acceptable?”
So Oliver didn’t think I was
good enough for Rhodium? Even though I understood why, it still stung. But I couldn’t afford to turn down his offer.
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
“I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”
Dinner arrived, and I soon found out why Rhodium had the reputation it did. Every mouthful tasted delicious, and I forgot my lack of appetite as I dug into roast quail followed by chocolate mousse with caramelised bananas. I might never get to eat in the restaurant, but dining here with Oliver more than made up for that. Every so often, he’d glance over at me with a devilish glint in his eye, and I knew he was planning something. A delicious sense of anticipation built through each course, and by the time I licked my spoon, heat zipped through my veins.
This would be my last night here, and I wanted to remember it.
As soon as I’d swallowed, Oliver rose and helped me to my feet, supporting my weight as he led me out onto the roof terrace. From high up, the view was breathtaking, a patchwork of twinkling lights that spread as far as I could see.
A metal railing ran around the edge of the terrace, topping a row of glass panels. I gripped onto it with my good hand and leaned over. Luckily, I’d never been scared of heights. Tiny figures scurried like ants under the streetlights below, going about their business without knowing I was watching. I could just about make out a couple kissing, the man pressing his girl against the wall of the building opposite. I felt like a voyeur.
Oliver stepped up close behind me and caged me in, one arm on each side.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.
“It’s more beautiful tonight.”
I shivered, but not because of the cold. Why did he have to be so nice? It twisted me up inside.
“Do you come out here often?”
“It’s a good spot to think.”
I raised my eyes from the street and looked at some of the other buildings. We were the highest by a few floors, and I could see down into people’s apartments. A man watching TV. A couple arguing. A dog lazed out on a couch. And… Oh!
I tried to look away, but Oliver turned my head again.
“We shouldn’t be watching,” I whispered.
A man in the next building lay back as a woman rode him cowboy-style, her head thrown back as she thrust her hips.
