“Are you okay?” Oliver whispered as we followed the chic woman who fit in to this high-class restaurant far better than I could ever hope to achieve.
I nodded, swallowing past an arid throat, my earlier confidence dissipating. All around me, smartly dressed men and women in outfits that probably cost more than a month’s wages engaged in animated conversation, whereas I couldn’t even muster a “Fine” in reply to Oliver’s concern.
I wondered if anyone could tell I’d purchased my dress from a thrift shop. I’d splurged all my cash on the dress I’d worn on my date with Oliver Monday night, and I simply couldn’t afford a second designer dress. Even so, this hand-me-down hadn’t been cheap. I wasn’t happy eating into my savings to buy clothes, but I didn’t want to embarrass Oliver either.
“Relax,” Oliver murmured. “You’re stunning. Your beauty eclipses every single woman in this room.”
I looked up at him gratefully. “Do you read minds?”
He slipped an arm around my waist and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’m learning to read yours.”
Oliver stopped beside a round table for eight, where six other people were already sitting. Four men. Two women. A moment of relief that it wasn’t all men didn’t last long when one of the women gave me a thorough head-to-toe once-over then whispered something to the other woman who glanced my way and then smiled kindly before shooting an irritated glare at her companion.
“Patrick.” Oliver shook the hand of the man nearest to him who’d stood to greet us. He urged me forward, his palm in the small of my back, the heat from his skin comforting. “This is Harlow.”
I caught the note of pride in his voice, and when he snaked his arm around my waist and brushed over my hip with his thumb, I felt ten feet tall.
“Hi,” I said with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you.” Patrick said.
We took our seats while the rest of the group introduced themselves. The women, I discovered, were Fiorella and Jasmine, and both worked in the marketing department.
“And what is it that you do, Harlow?” Jasmine, the mean girl, asked sweetly.
I fired a panicked look in Oliver’s direction. We hadn’t discussed this. Why hadn’t we discussed what to say? I could hardly tell this bunch of high-fliers that I was the nanny. Think fast, Harlow.
“Um, I’m…”
“Harlow is my daughter’s nanny.”
Oliver’s voice rang clear and true. I strained my ears to pick up any trace of embarrassment. No. Nothing, only the same hint of self-respect I’d caught in his earlier introduction.
“Oh.” Jasmine’s smug grin had my hands clenching into fists. “What a… worthy career.”
“I agree,” Oliver said brightly, turning a sharp gaze on Jasmine. “Far worthier than, oh, I don’t know, say, a career in marketing.” He finished off his barbed comment with an evil grin.
The entire table fell silent.
I shifted in my seat as an icy chill descended over the gathering. I hated silences, especially uncomfortable ones. When Oliver had mentioned tonight’s dinner might be a little on the awkward side, I hadn’t imagined this.
Reaching for the pitcher of iced water in the center of the table, I scanned the sea of faces in front of me even though none were in focus. “Would anyone like water?”
Oliver laid his hand on my arm, preventing me from filling the glasses. “What I would like is for Jasmine to apologize to you or this will be an extremely short meeting.”
Jasmine flushed beet red, and Fiorella gave her a hefty dig in the ribs to encourage her, while Patrick’s face turned puce and he glared across the table at his coworker.
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said, her chin tucked into her chest. “That was totally uncalled for.” She swallowed, hard, her throat bobbing from the effort of forcing her muscles to work. “I’m not usually such a bitch.”
Fiorella laughed, except I couldn’t identify any amusement in it. “Yes, you are.”
I detected a European accent, possibly French, but it was faint.
“My niece graduated from college this summer where she achieved her qualification in childcare.” Fiorella continued. “She’s already secured a position with a wonderful family in London. I’m immensely proud of her. In her career, she’ll make a difference, mold kids when they’re still young enough for it to matter. Whereas us?” She gestured around the table. “We help our company sell stuff. That’s it. We don’t have any room to act in a superior manner.”
Oliver clapped loudly. “Hear, hear. I couldn’t agree more. My daughter is thriving since Harlow came into our lives.” He slipped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me toward him, planting a kiss on my lips. “And so am I.”
The relief on Patrick’s face was almost comical. He either really wanted this business or desperately needed it. Both played into Oliver’s hands, meaning this should make for a very interesting evening, and one I found myself looking forward to now that Jasmine had been put in her place.
“Okay,” Oliver said. “Let’s order, and then we’ll begin.”
I sipped my wine and watched with unveiled admiration as Oliver grilled the entire team on their proposal. He didn’t miss a trick, but his insightful questioning highlighted the intellectual differences between us. I tried not to acknowledge how much the truth of that bothered me.
The best part, however, where I had to try damned hard to suppress a gleeful grin, was when he pressed Jasmine especially brutally, drilling into her ideas for developing the brand. She stumbled over a few answers, and like a predator with their prey on the run, Oliver pounced. Patrick did his best to cover up her fluffed responses, and over dinner, Jasmine grew quieter, retreating into herself. I couldn’t even feel sorry for her. My friend Katie had a saying. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” Well, Jasmine had shown me, and everyone else sitting around the table, exactly who she was. If ROGUES signed a deal with this company—and from what little I gleaned of the conversation, any deal was a long way into the future—I had the distinct impression Jasmine wouldn’t be a part of any cross-party collaboration.
Dessert arrived, and with one look, my mouth watered. I dug into the lightest cheesecake I’d ever eaten, and, closing my eyes, I let the flavors explode on my tongue, then swallowed slowly.
“Jesus Christ,” Oliver muttered.
My eyes sprang open, expecting to find him irked with a comment someone had made that I’d missed because I was too busy appreciating the tastiest thing I’d ever put in my mouth. Instead, his eyes were on me, the pupils dilated until they almost appeared black.
“What?” I asked, dabbing my mouth with a napkin in case I had cheesecake smeared on my face.
Instead of answering me, he beckoned to the server. “This cheesecake,” he said. “Would you mind boxing up two portions for me to take home?”
The server nodded. “Certainly, sir.”
“Thank you.”
I gave Oliver a quizzical look.
He leaned close and, in a low voice, murmured in my ear. “Don’t eat any more.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Why not? I’m enjoying it.”
“Because, when you slipped that fork between your lips, you looked as if you were having an orgasm. And the only person at this table who gets to watch that is me.”
A raging fervor raced through my body. I almost reached for the pitcher of iced water to pour it over my head. I needed something to cool me down after Oliver’s comments had heated me up to inferno levels. I pressed my thighs together, my breath hitching and my pulse thrumming out of control.
The server returned with a box and set it down in front of Oliver. He picked it up and stood. I followed.
“Thank you, Patrick. We still have a lot of work to do. Send me those reports next week and I’ll set up a video conference to discuss them.” He reached for my hand. “Goodnight all.”
I squeaked out a goodnight, then Oliver swept me from the restaurant. His car idled at the curb. We
climbed inside. I didn’t even get as far as fastening my seat belt. Oliver pulled me astride his lap and drew my lips to his in an urgent kiss, full of longing and ardor. His erection pressed to my hot center, and on instinct, I rocked against him. He growled deeply, tilted his hips, and gave it back to me with interest.
I gasped into his mouth as his hard length connected directly with my clit. Something had happened tonight, and I couldn’t quite figure out what, but hell, I wasn’t complaining. Not with the way Oliver was making me feel.
Wanton.
Reckless.
Horny.
With a groan, he tore his mouth from mine. “Shit, Harlow. Sorry.”
“No apologies,” I panted, reaching for him again. This time I took charge of the pace, the potency, the fervor. I burrowed beneath his jacket, fumbling for his belt. I managed to unbuckle it, flip open the button, yank down the zipper, and slip my hand into his pants before he stopped me, his firm grip circling my wrist and putting a stop to my exploration.
“Not here,” he rasped. “Not like this.”
My eyes flared. “You’re not rejecting me?”
He cupped my face. “Jesus, no. No. I want you in my bed, not to have our first time an uncomfortable fumble in the back of my car.”
I rested my forehead on his. “I couldn’t adore you more.”
17
Harlow
Oliver’s hand pressed to the small of my back and eased me into the elevator. The doors closed, trapping us inside the steel box. Electricity crackled through the air as our eyes met. I held my breath, anticipating Oliver’s next move.
He didn’t make one.
Instead, he stood with his back to the wall, one hand holding the box of cheesecake, the other hanging loosely by his side. His heated gaze burned a hole through my dress. I lowered my eyes, locking on the thick bulge in his groin, imagining the feel of him slipping through my folds and pushing inside.
I licked my lips.
“Fuck,” he gritted out.
His hand curved around the back of my neck, and he yanked me to him, his mouth hot and urgent as he forced mine into submission. His tongue surged inside, scattering my senses until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel.
The elevator coasted to a stop, and the doors glided open. Oliver clutched my hand and marched into the penthouse. He made a diversion to the kitchen to drop off the box of cheesecake, then headed for the winding staircase that led to the upper floor. At the top, instead of turning toward my room, he led me to his.
Until now, I hadn’t seen Oliver’s room—why would I have?—But the dark wood furniture and pale-blue accessories suited him perfectly. Masculine with a hint of softness. Pictures of Annie, some alone, some with him, and others with people I didn’t recognize, took up every available space on the dresser, and a large canvas of her as a baby, her eyes wide and inquisitive, took up most of one wall.
“That’s beautiful,” I said, freeing my hand from Oliver’s and crossing the room to take a closer look at the black-and-white print.
He joined me, his arm coming around my waist. “She was six months old there. I love that picture. We had a professional photographer come by and take a bunch, but as soon as I saw that one, I knew I had to have it enlarged.”
We.
One simple word, but a timely reminder that Oliver carried heavy baggage. As his head dipped to kiss me, I pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him.
“Convince me I’m not a rebound, that you’re not using me as a way of proving you’re over your wife, and then you’ll move on to someone more fitting to your social circle.”
His face transformed into a shock so intense, it couldn’t be fake. His mouth parted in disbelief, his stare incredulous.
“Jesus. Is that what you think this is? Fuck.” He palmed the back of his head, then stepped away. “Fuck, Harlow, no. No. That’s not what this is. And what the hell do you mean ‘someone more fitting to my social circle’? Because if you’re referring to cold, empty women like Jasmine…”
He broke off and glared at me as if he wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come.
Shit. I’ve screwed this up.
He filled the space he’d created between us and cupped my face. His mouth closed over mine in a kiss that sent tingles down my spine. It wasn’t rough or demanding. It was… apologetic.
Releasing me, he threaded his fingers through my hair. “However long it takes, I will show you your worth. I won’t give up until you believe, truly believe deep in your soul, that you’re worth ten, twenty, a million times more than women like Jasmine. You’re a sparkling diamond. She’s a lump of coal with a black heart to match.”
I gasped. I actually gasped at the sincerity in his words. I touched a hand to his chest.
“Oliver.”
The word came out husky, and a deepening ache grew in my core. This man… stole my breath and was well on his way to stealing my heart.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” he said, his eyes tracing my mouth. “Tell me and I’ll let you go.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. It would be a lie.”
A rumbling groan echoed through his chest and, in a move reminiscent of the hottest of movies, he slipped his hand down the front of my dress, hooked his fingers inside my bra, and jerked me to him.
“Last chance.”
I tilted my head back and licked my lips. “Keep it.”
His mouth crashed on mine, our teeth connecting, his tongue parting my lips with such authority and dominance, my panties soaked through in seconds. Gripping my zipper, he eased it down, one metal tooth at a time, unhurried and in control. For a man who claimed to be out of practice, he sure knew how to seduce a woman. He’d barely touched me, and already I’d give him anything he asked for.
My dress gathered around my feet, and I stepped out of it. Oliver still had three fingers inside my bra. I hoped he’d soon transfer them to my pussy, and I knew exactly how to make that happen.
I’d already unfastened his pants once this evening, and on the second run, I was even faster. As the material loosened, I snuck my hand inside his boxers to discover the prize underneath.
And what a fucking prize.
I curled my hand around his thick, hard shaft and squeezed. He wrenched away, his breathing coming in short, sharp gasps.
“Shit. More.”
I tugged his pants down to his ankles. He helped me by kicking off his shoes and simultaneously shrugging out of his jacket. By the time I’d gotten his socks off, he’d discarded his shirt and tie, too.
“You work fast,” I murmured.
“But I’ll seduce you slowly. You’re too special to rush.”
My eyes closed, his words flowing over me like the finest silk. Despite the revolving door of boyfriends since high school, I’d only slept with three guys, and none of them had ever brought me to the cusp of orgasm using words alone.
I gripped his erection once more, the urge to taste him sending me to my knees. Oliver, though, had other ideas. He raised me. His hands caressed my hips, and he walked me backward. As the backs of my knees touched the cool cotton sheets, he maneuvered me onto the bed. I lay there, staring up at this incredible man, his body carved in muscle and sinew, the head of his erection jutting over the top of his boxers.
“Tonight is for you, Harlow. Let me worship every inch of you.”
I’m close, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
He hooked his fingers inside my panties and slid them down my legs. Thank goodness I’d taken care of the lady garden. No one wanted an out-of-control bush when sleeping with a guy for the first time, especially if he was going to—
Oh god…
The heat from his mouth branded me, sending a surge of fire straight to my core. His thumbs parted my folds, and his tongue circled my clit, then slipped inside. My back bowed off the bed, my pelvis inching upward, seeking more of what he had to give.
Jesus, this man gives amazing head.
I lifte
d up onto my elbows, watching his dark head move as he licked inside my body. Threading my fingers into his hair, I pushed forward, urging him on.
A swell began in the lowest part of my abdomen. I forced my muscles to relax, eager to draw out the pleasure. He played my body to perfection, instinctively knowing when to apply pressure and when to ease off. In the end, though, I couldn’t hold on. My calves cramped, and every muscle south of my belly button tightened. My insides swelled, then shattered into a toe-curling orgasm that had me screaming Oliver’s name.
He kissed my mound, then my stomach, fluttering touches that left indelible marks on my skin. Not physical marks. Emotional ones. His lips glistened with evidence of where he’d spent the last few minutes and, with a smile that sent a fresh flood of wetness right to my core, he pressed his mouth to mine in the briefest of kisses.
“Oliver?”
“Yes?”
“Can we fuck now, please, before I lose my ever-loving mind.”
His grin sent my heart fluttering. Rising from the bed, he removed his boxers, allowing me to see him, for the first time, in all his magnificence.
I trailed my eyes over his defined pectoral muscles, the ridges of his abs, his firm thighs, that ‘dreamed about but rarely seen in real life’ V leading to a thick, beautiful cock that extended out a good eight inches from his hips.
He walked over to his nightstand, and I took a moment to slip off my bra. I didn’t want any barriers between us, physically or mentally. He returned holding a square foil packet.
“Please don’t think badly of me.” He ripped the condom open with his teeth. “But after our date Monday, I bought a pack. Only in hope, not in expectation.”
This guy. I’d never met anyone so thoughtful.
“I definitely don’t mind,” I said, watching as he rolled it down his impressive length. He crawled between my legs. I expected him to push straight inside. He didn’t. I should have known by now that Oliver rarely behaved as I expected him to. His lips hovered over mine, and he gazed into my eyes. I read hesitation, a hint of worry swirling in his irises.
Of course.
Enraptured: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 2) Page 11
