by A. E. Murphy
“We’re staying here tonight,” he states quietly and my own smile vanishes. “We’re going fishing in the morning.”
Now I’m annoyed but I don’t show it. I simply nod and look back to Penelope. I purposely avoid looking into Elijah’s eyes, though he does lean as if to catch mine.
“I have clothes you can have.” She says happily and looks me up and down. “It’ll be nice to see some limbs on you.”
I rub the sleeves of my baggy jumper together and bite hard on my tongue. I told Max that under no circumstances could I stay here.
Fuck him.
“This should be fun,” Penelope adds and looks to her husband. “Is the guest room ready?”
“Of course,” Elijah bites, sounding irritated that she even asked.
“Come, we’ll leave the men to it and raid my wardrobe. Lord only knows what I have in there.”
Oh how the other half live. I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate reality. “Sure.”
I keep my eyes on the ground as I pass Elijah and he doesn’t step out of the way as I pass. I think he actually wants me to brush against him, though not in a sexual way. I think he’s starting to notice that I’m avoiding him and probably just wants to confirm that.
It’s too late to change my response. I meekly and quietly mutter “Sorry” and shrink further into myself. I feel his eyes on my back as Penelope half drags me towards the stairs.
I fucked that one up.
Penelope’s closet is a sight to behold. You can walk into it. It’s like something from a movie. I feel sick with envy at all of the pretties.
“You’re a ten, right? I’m just estimating,” she asks, moving her clothes along a rail in search of something to wear. “Night wear should be in that drawer.”
I look to the drawer by my knee and fondle the hanging gold handles before pulling it open and revealing two clearly unused chemise nightdresses and one set of pyjama shorts with no top.
“Help yourself. Mine are waiting for me on the bed.”
I pick up the ivory one with lace trim at the bottom. It’s silk, definitely. It’s gorgeous but it leaves nothing to the imagination. There’s no way I can wear this. Max will never take no for an answer if I wear this.
“I knew I’d seen one in here somewhere.” She laughs when the fluffy gown she throws hits me in the face. “Would you like to shower or bathe? The en-suite to your room is lovely.”
If I hadn’t been involved with her husband, I’d be eating this up. I’d be loving this, but I just feel like a traitor. I feel like everything I touch is going to leave my filthy stain behind. The stain of my deceit and betrayal.
“It has been such a long time since I could relax around a normal person,” Penelope suddenly says, ushering me from the closet. “Let’s get drunk and I’ll do your nails.”
I look at my frayed cuticles and jagged tips and wince. “That actually sounds really nice.” I need to get past this. I need to stop being an ignorant bitch. I’m going to get caught eventually, so I may as well enjoy my life until the point it all fucks up.
I destress in an amazing bath, don the chemise Penelope has kindly gifted me and pull on the long fluffy robe. Penelope is waiting for me in her room, on her bed, with two extra-large glasses of rose wine and music playing quietly from somewhere I can’t fathom.
This entire time Max hasn’t come looking for me. Not that I thought he would, but it would have been nice. I’m too scared to go and search for him.
Penelope, like a teen girl, plays with my hair and braids and twists it to the top of my head, all the while talking to me about her boutiques and the photo shoots she’s done with hot models for magazines.
It’s not until she’s halfway through doing my nails that I notice something. “Where’s the Duke’s closet?” I immediately realise my slip up and feel nauseous.
Penelope bursts into a fit of laughter. This time her laugh is real and I prefer it to the fake laugh. “Did you just call him the Duke?”
I pull a face. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologise, it’s just… oddly cute.” Her blue eyes twinkle with mirth. “Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you by telling him.” My chest deflates. Thank fuck for that. “As for the answer to your question, we don’t sleep together. We haven’t for a long time.”
I hold my hands flat on the magazine on the bed, daring not to move for fear that I’ll catch the shiny dark purple polish and mar its perfection.
“Why?” I ask as she drains her glass, leans over the bed and pulls another bottle from under it. I’m surprised at this behaviour and I love her more for it. She refills our glasses, giggling when some of it sloshes over the side of her glass. I join in with her giggles when she puts my glass to my mouth in an attempt to feed me. We manage a little, laughing louder when it dribbles down my chin.
I want to ask why she’s not sharing a room with her husband but I don’t have a chance as the door opens and Elijah pops his head around. I quickly adjust my robe to cover my body. I have no time to move from my stomach on to my feet.
“Are you two okay? Do you need more wine?”
“So thoughtful.” Penelope grins and thrusts the half-empty bottle at him. “But we’re good.”
His lips twitch. “I can see that now.” When his eyes come to me, I automatically look away and curse myself. I promised myself that I’d try to at least act normal around him. I’m doing myself no favours. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”
“Very much.”
“Good.” He stares at my profile for too long. I shut my eyes but I can still feel him watching me, waiting for me to look at him. When he finally gets the message, he clears his throat and exits the room.
Twenty minutes later Penelope is unconscious and I’m tucking her in and tidying up after us both.
I grab the glasses and bottle and pad quietly down the stairs. I can hear Max and Elijah laughing in the living room as I pass. When it abruptly stops, I know that they’ve seen me pass them in the dark hall. I skipped quickly through the soft, orange glow that escaped the room but obviously not fast enough.
Max’s footsteps follow me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I stop and turn to face him, my hands still full.
Smiling, he steps into my space and runs his fingertips along the braid on my head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” He looks sceptical.
I blow out a breath. “I’m fine now, I suppose.”
His relieved smile warms me. I can see how badly he wanted this and now I feel bad for telling him we could never stay here. Overall I’ve had a great night. “I’m going to get ready for bed now so I don’t wake you. Will you be upset if I stay up a bit longer?”
“Of course not.” I press my lips to his, careful of the glasses and bottles between my hands. “You go get ready. I’ll…” His eyes pan down as his hands untie my robe. That’s one thing I certainly love about Max; it doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen my body, every time he looks at me it’s like he’s looking at me for the first time.
My core throbs when he bites on his lower lip as if the sight of me is too much for him. “I like this.” His hands skim down my sides and back up, gliding over the satin with ease. “I like this a lot.”
He kisses me again and pushes me backwards into the wall. My fingers ache as I cling to the glasses and bottles being crushed between us.
Eager hands grope at every inch of me and eager lips taste the skin of my jaw and neck. “You bathed?” I nod in reply and he continues his ministrations. His lips trail down from my neck to my chest and bite and suck at the smooth curves of my breasts. “I want you. Right now.”
My mouth dries when he hooks my bare thigh over his hip and holds it there whilst claiming my lips again.
Then this awful feeling that I’m being watched sinks in and I realise where I am and what I’m wearing and what we’re doing.
“Stop,” I hiss and push him away with my foot on his stomach. Anoth
er perk of being flexible. I don’t need to use my hands for a lot of stuff if I don’t want to. “What about Elijah?”
“He’s a guy, he knows…” Max steps into my space again but I side step out of the way. “Don’t be boring.”
“Go get ready for bed,” I hiss quietly and give him a wide-eyed glare of insistence.
He salutes me, bites his lip as he scans my body again and races back into the room.
I quickly pad into the moonlit kitchen and place the glasses by the sink. I contemplate washing them but become distracted by the view of the garden in the night. Tiny twinkling lights hide deep in the plants and bushes. It looks magical. I smile at the sight of it, wishing I had my phone so I can take a picture.
“You don’t like me much, do you?” Elijah’s voice comes from behind me and scares the shit out of me. I almost jump out of my skin. My hand goes to my chest. “Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry.
“Of course I do.” His eyes pan down, lower and lower, slowly dragging on the opening of my robe. I quickly tie it shut and he clears his throat and looks away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.
Pink flames his cheeks and his icy grey eyes avoid me. I want to move to him and touch him. I want to caress every single inch of his chest with the tips of my fingers and then my tongue.
“Do you feel as though I’m taking Max away from you?” He asks quickly, to change the subject no doubt. Hearing Max’s name come from his lips is as effective as a bucket of ice over my head, but I push away my guilt. It’s a useless emotion right now. I can’t feel sorry for myself when I’m the cause of all of this grief.
I smile softly, feeling safe in the dark. I feel like Enna again, or maybe that’s just because I’m in his presence. “Of course not. It’s good to see him happy.”
“Then why do you avoid me?” On any other day I’d appreciate his directness, but today I’m not prepared.
I tense and run my teeth over my bottom lip. “I just don’t want to be in the way.”
“You aren’t in the way.” He takes a step closer to me, closing our gap to five feet. My hands clench into fists by my side and he definitely notices. “I scare you?”
“Not in the way that you think.” My voice is a mutter; I didn’t mean to say it out loud. He heard me. His pupils dilate. He knows exactly what I meant. I may as well have just bent over the side and flipped up my skirt.
Fuck.
Icy grey eyes narrow and his head tilts to the right as if assessing an abstract image. He’s piecing things together.
This isn’t good.
“Thank you for having us tonight,” I say quietly, trying to keep my voice as normal as possible. “I’ve enjoyed myself.”
“You and Penelope seem to have hit it off.”
“She’s nice.” I shift onto my other foot and nod towards the door. “Am I free to leave?” His stance between me and the door is saying otherwise.
He relaxes and returns my smile. “Of course.” Side stepping out of my path, he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Olivia?” His voice stops me at the doorway. I freeze but don’t turn. “You’re welcome any time. You’re not in the way. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like that. It wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s not you, I’m just… anxious around new people.” I explain, still facing away from him. “Goodnight, my L…” Shit, that was close. “Elijah.” I rush away, hoping that he didn’t notice my near miss.
That was stupid.
I’m stupid.
“When you said we’re going fishing, I thought you meant yourself and Elijah,” I grumble tiredly. Max woke me thirty seconds ago. The sun has yet to rise so it can’t be later than five.
“Sorry.” He smiles, pushing my back against the door. I hit it with a thud and the air whooshes from me. I don’t have time to catch my breath as his mouth is on mine. Soft lips move urgently, the slight bristle of his beard scratching my jaw. He pulls back as his hands lift the hem of my chemise.
“Not here,” I hiss, grabbing at his wrists.
“Babe, you have no idea how badly I had to restrain myself last night, climbing into bed next to you.” Strong fingers grip my thigh and hook it over his hip. I feel his length straining against his boxers as he presses against my naked pussy, nothing but a thin piece of fabric separating us. “I need this.”
My body softens as his skilful hands work me so well. He knows how to please me; he knows how to turn me on. Problem is, I also know him and his moods and he might be turning me on but he won’t finish me off.
“I’ll be quick,” he mumbles against my neck. I could laugh at my intuition. I hate being right sometimes. He fumbles between us and I feel him poised at my entrance within seconds of him speaking. He sinks into me only a fraction before realising that I dried the second I realised we’d be having one-sided sex, so he wets his fingers with his mouth and rubs me before pushing in. “Fuck, yes.”
I don’t even bother to move; I simply lean back against the wall and wait for him to finish. I want to hate him for it. I want to complain but I can’t, not when I’ve been denying him his fill of me and granting it to his brother.
He sighs when he orgasms after a few deep thrusts and drops my leg as he still twitches, partly inside and partly between my now closed thighs.
“Now I’m going to have to shower.” I cringe, feeling stroppy at the situation.
“We don’t have time,” he whines and now I’m definitely stroppy. I shoot him a look as I stomp into the en-suite, hating how frustrated I feel. “Be quick.”
“Almost as quick as you,” I say and flip him off over my shoulder.
He doesn't respond and I know I've hit him right where it hurts, especially when I exit the bathroom in my robe and he isn't waiting for me.
I have no clothes here. What am I going to wear?
Do I just let myself into Penelope's room? Is she coming too? After last night, I doubt it. Unless she's one of those lucky people who don't suffer with a hangover, that is.
I step out into the hall, wishing Max had stayed behind to help me figure out what to do. I don't feel comfortable walking around in nothing but a robe, and my feet are cold. Maybe I should just wait until Max comes looking for me.
“Stop being such a coward,” I tell myself and step out into the hallway. I glance up and down for any signs of life. I also glance up and down to figure out which bedroom is Penelope's again.
When I figure it out, I hover outside the door with my fist raised, ready to knock, but it swings open and Penelope, tired looking and teary-eyed, almost barges into me.
“Olivia.” She quickly wipes the tears from beneath her eyes with slender fingers. “I almost forgot you were here.”
I glance over her shoulder and find the source of why she's crying. My eyes linger on the black tattoo on his back. It's a detailed pattern with sharp edges following a diagonal path from his right shoulder to his left hip. I love it. I love his back. How have I never seen this before? I've only ever seen the front of him, that's why. The tattoo, though surprising, suits him greatly.
“I'm sorry,” I say as he turns to face us. “I came to raid your closet but I'll just…”
“No!” She cries and her hand grabs mine. “Please, feel free. I was just leaving.”
“You aren't coming fishing?” I ask stupidly.
She smiles weakly but her bottom lip trembles, revealing her sorrow. She then steps into the hall. “I have to leave urgently.”
“Is everything okay?” Has he hurt her in some way? She did say that they don't share a bed, so why on earth is he half naked in her room? Not that it's my business, but I get this strange pang of jealousy and possessiveness. I can't shake it either, which is absurd because they're married and I'm the mistress, so to speak.
“Just another day in Royal fucking hell.” She mutters and shakes her head. “I'll be in touch.” Then she's gone, leaving me standing in the doorway of her room staring at her delectable fucking husband.
We
stare at each other. A muscle ticks in his jaw and the sharp muscles of his stomach and chest twitch.
“Do you make a habit of staring at people?” He snarls, startling me.
I snap out of my lusting mindset and my mouth drops open.
“Well?”
Is he for real?
“Forgive me for not knowing how to react.” I fold my arms over my chest, my scowl set, and take a step backwards. “But you don't need to speak to me like that.” His gaze softens and he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off by stating a sharp, “Ever.”
I turn and leave him gaping at my audacity.
As I enter my own room, I hear him call my name and then cursing when I close my door without responding. I hate that. I just can't tolerate it. Nobody should ever speak to me like that. I don't even allow it when I'm on the payroll. Fucking disrespectful Duke… I want to slap him. I love slapping him. I love the way that he loves it when I slap him. It gets him off. Relinquishing control is his turn on. He needs it.
I need him.
I'm so bloody horny I can't see straight.
Then there's a knock at the door and I realise my predicament. I just let Enna overthrow Olivia. I need to calm myself and figure this out.
I'm too paranoid.
There's no way he knows who I am simply because of a character slip.
The knock sounds again.
Shit.
I calm myself and pull open the door. There he stands, his hair dishevelled, his jeans hanging low on his hips.
“I am terribly sorry,” he blurts before I can say anything. “It has been an eventful morning. I haven't slept much. I have this awful habit of being a bit of a bastard when I'm in a sour mood.”
“I didn't mean to stare.” I look away, my cheeks flushing with a fake blush. “I just panicked…”
“Liv?” Max steps from around the bend that leads to the stairs. He looks between us both and his brow quirks. “What's going on?”
“Just looking for you,” Elijah lies and I fix him with a disbelieving stare. “I overslept and Penelope had to leave on business.”
