Sexy Hart (Sexy Series) (27 page)

He grimaces at my words, looking forwards to the mirror and into my eyes. “Always.”

He uses one hand to guide himself to me and rests there, gently pressing against me, letting me feel his strained arousal with anticipation.

I close my eyes, tearing my attention away from his face as he slowly, smoothly drives forwards inside me. I moan loudly, letting my gratified state be known to him, and responds with his own, satisfied groan as he pulls back and slowly slides back into me, pushing harder and deeper.

“Oh god,” I cry, opening my eyes to watch again, to see the pleasure on his face, to watch him enjoy my body this way and when I do, I’m stimulated even further by the pure hunger and desire in his expression.

I lift my leg sideways, resting my knee on the countertop to offer him deeper access to my body, and he accepts by thrusting harder and faster, making me cry out, needing more of this superior performance that comes so naturally to him.

I become desperate to share the moment with him as I near the climax that’ll shatter me any moment. This position is incredible, it’s hot and deeply satisfying, but I can’t share it with him in any other way than our current intimate connection; I need to kiss him or lock eyes with him. I look up and into the mirror again, searching for his eyes and he bends to kiss my neck as he thrusts. He slides his fingers around my front to my clitoris and I wail as he brings me a step closer and I can feel it beginning to bloom inside
; his thick hardness moving against me, and the softness of his heavy sack colliding with my sensitive parts repeatedly as he works his fingers.

“Oliver,” I cry loudly over the noise of the thundering water in the shower next to us, and he looks at me, his dark green eyes finally on mine as it starts. I frown as my muscles tense, the weaker waves quickly consumed by the intense, magnifying power of my climax. “Look… eyes…” I stutter out, as if in pain, but in reality - the pleasure is too extreme to concentrate fully on words, I just know what I want, and it’s to watch him watch me, his eyes with me as we both fall together.

~~~~~~~

Panting and sated, we stand together in the bathroom, my head resting on his chest, his hand on my belly, silently listening to the heavy jet of water. He crooks his neck to kiss my temple and rests his cheek there, his warm breath on my skin. “Too good to be true,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear and I sigh in
a agreement, nodding.

“But it is true.”

“I know. We’re going to work, baby. We’ll be so happy, just like Bea and Daniel, and Tils and Luke; we were supposed to be together, Clare, you know?”

I smile and look up at his face behind me, feeling really quite certain that he’s right. We
are
supposed to be together, he’s everything I’ve always wanted in a man, I just thought he’d never want me properly because he hadn’t all those years ago, and that hurt so much, that even after we started to have sporadic, intimate encounters, I couldn’t let myself accept that I probably still loved him just as much as I did back then.

“Shall we shower?” I ask, softly, tired and ready for bed, inconveniently.

“Yeah. You go on in, I’ll just get rid of this and will join you in a second.”

“Okay,” I respond, still leaning against his chest, not really wanting to go anywhere or do anything.

We stay that way for a few more moments until he chuckles, kisses my face again and tells me “Off you go.”

After he’s dealt with the disposal, he joins me in the shower as I wash, with a handsome, if somewhat - tired, smile, and he growls, jovially. “Mmm, Clare suits soap suds…”

I giggle and press my wet, naked, soapy body against him, slipping my arms behind him to rest on his buttocks. “Thank you. We need to see if you do.”

“Oh you know I do, I suit everything.”

I laugh, “Actually, you do.” I run my soapy hands up and down his back, bringing them forwards to his chest, washing his hard body with my bare hands, slowly. He drops his head back onto his shoulders, closing his eyes, relaxing.

“Hmm… that’s so nice.”

“It’s nice for me, too.”

I hold his arms and guide him to stand under the stream, washing the soap down his body as it pummels the skin of his shoulders and back. Leaning forwards, I kiss his delectable, muscular chest, built through damned hard physical
labour, which makes it all the more sexy. The water pours down, running through our contact and he places his hands on my body, one on my lower back and one at the back of my head, gently holding me in place.

I turn my head to rest my cheek against him, closing my eyes and letting the water run off his skin and over my face. My arms wrapped around him, I feel safe and cared for. I don’t have to worry
now, he’s my shelter, my sanctuary, my future - if we can build it right; brick by brick, strong, sturdy and resilient, heavily guarded against Stacy-style hurricanes.

He brushes the hair from my wet face as I rest against him like this, feeling my heart being gently captured and taken away, and I’m trusting this man, this man who unknowingly captured it once before and left it to wilt in the most painful, most grievous of ways. But
he didn’t know
, and that’s what I need to remember. He clearly loves me and I him, and I have too much faith in him, not only as my new husband, but as my best friend, too, to think that he would realistically damage me in such a cruel and flagrant way. I know him too well to doubt that I am in safe hands.

“Will you let me wash your hair, darling?” he asks, waking me from my deep, self-prescribed, analytical therapy.

“Mmm,” I respond, sleepily, “that would be lovely.”

We switch places and I slip my head under the water, letting it wash over my face, cleansing the long day and
aeroplane staleness from my skin. When my hair is satisfactorily soaked, I take myself from the flow of hot, relaxing water and turn to allow Oliver access.

He’s so gentle, yet, thorough, making sure every single hair and inch of my scalp is washed and massaged, and my head makes room for the memory of the smell of his shampoo. He gently guides me back under the water to rinse out the foam, before repeating his soothing process with the similarly scented conditioner. Everything ‘coconut’ will have a place in my heart, forever, because of this experience.

We must be in the shower for a good forty minutes, totally invalidating that theory that a bath is more energy efficient than a shower. Well, for us anyway. And when we finally release each other to step out, we wrap up in his huge fluffy towels and embrace again like we’re some kind of human limpets.

“You’re tired, huh?” he asks and I nod against his chest. “Why don’t you put the TV on and sit on the bed for a while, I’ll go and make us some lunch.”

“But I might fall asleep…”

“That’s okay, you won’t be asleep for long because I’ll wake you for food, how does that sound?”

I sigh and smile, nodding and we reluctantly pull apart to go our separate ways. Oliver dries quickly and puts some tracksuit bottoms on with a sexy, white t-shirt, and I begin to unzip my bag to find something to put on. 

“Here,” he says, pulling something from the top of his wardrobe, “be comfy…” He walks towards me with a super-soft blanket and tells me to get rid of the towel. As I do, he wraps me up
cosily, pulling the blanket over my shoulders, skimming my chin. “Just be comfy. And I like you naked under there.”

I giggle and curl up on the bed feeling far too comfortable for my own good.  He hands me the remote, kisses me on the head and disappears out of the bedroom door.

As I slink back into the fat pillows, I wonder if I should put some make-up back on, but I really can’t be bothered, I’m so tired and Oliver has seen me so many times without, it seems a little pointless, but I do want to look my best for him at the moment as everything ‘romantic’ between us is so new… maybe I’ll do it in a minute… I’ll just have a little rest first.

“Clare…
wakey wakey…” I open my eyes, slightly confused, to see Oliver’s handsome face before me, smiling. “Hi, darling, lunch time…” he whispers.

I frown and sit up, looking around me.
What happened?
I was just thinking about make-up and then… wow, I’m knackered. “Sorry. Thank you.”

Oliver smiles and stands again. “I thought we could eat in bed, darling, and chill out up here.”

“Okay, that sounds nice, thank you.”

“So! I made tuna and mozzarella
paninis with black pepper, and a big salad to share.”

My stomach rumbles in delight and I can immediately smell the delicious aromas. “Yum, that sounds amazing, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome my darling,” he says in a posh accent, kissing my head as he turns to collect the tray from an ottoman and places it on the bed between us. It’s one of those trays on legs so it’s very sturdy and doesn’t move an inch when he sits down next to me. The food looks divine.

Oliver hands me a long glass of icy orange juice with ice and I take a welcome, refreshing gulp, eyeing up the food and deciding what to go for first. He switches on the TV, because I didn’t get that far before I passed out, and heads straight for the movie channels.

“Movie, food and cuddles?” he asks and I wriggle where I sit, looking forward to the rest of the cosy day, alone in Oliver’s bed… with him.

“Mmm, sounds like my idea of heaven.”

We eat until our stomachs are filled to the brim, and we cuddle together watching one of our all-time favourites, ‘
I love you, Man
’. It’s so lighthearted and funny, perfect for the mood I’m currently in; if I watched anything remotely serious or deep I think I’d succumb to the jetlaggy depression of returning from an amazing holiday. I’m already feeling a little on the emotional side when I think about baby Emily so I need to keep happy and light. A good night’s sleep is exactly what the doctor ordered. In… how many hours? Ugh.

I text all of the important people to let them know I’m home safe, before giving the Cakery a quick call to make sure everything is okay. Apparently Bea called in today, too, but everything is fine and they are coping swimmingly without us. I’m so grateful to be able to take time out of work with my co-owner, but I’m desperate to go back and get stuck into a project or two, get back to the real world knowing that behind the scenes, everything is so wholly different.
Wonderfully so.

Oliver calls his parents to let them know we’re home safe, convincing his mum that she really doesn’t need to come over to cook for him. She says she misses him but he manages to hold her off for one day so we can stay exactly as we are. It wouldn’t be odd for her to see me here, but naked and in his bed might be slightly different from the norm.

We get ready to watch a season of ‘
Modern Family
’ by slipping under the duvet together and holding each other tightly, my nakedness pressed up against the soft fabric of his clothes. It’s probably the most cosy I have ever felt in my entire life.

This feels so right… why didn’t we decide to be a couple sooner? It seems like years and years of wasted time that could have been spent
together, warm and content. Why didn’t I just come out and tell him all those years ago that I wanted him? Is this too good to be true, like Oliver said? Is something going to go horribly wrong? How can we have been ‘just good friends’ all these years and suddenly get married and be so fulfilled and settled so quickly? I know I should stop doubting and just enjoy it, but I’m petrified of what I might lose.

~~~~~~~

So comfy
… I roll over and brush my face against the soft, warm pillow and slide my hand up the hard chest of my new man. I’m almost entirely buried under the plush duvet and snuggled up tightly next to Oliver. He groans and rolls over, practically covering me with his body, kissing my head and squeezing me.

“Mmm… good sleep,” he mumbles.

“Yeah…” I whisper, still somewhat unconscious.

A long pause follows before he moans loudly. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” he whispers, waking me fully.

“Hmm?” I grunt from under the covers.

“We slept. Ugh, we slept.”

“Oh… no…” I emerge from my warm little duvet dungeon to check the damage. “What time is it?”

He leans over to check the time on his bedside clock and growls. “For god’s sake. It’s nine thirty.”

“At night?” I have to ask because I’m so disoriented right now, it could be either.”

“Yeah, at night.”

“Oh, whoops. That’s going to fuck up the body clock.”

“Yep. We’re either going to have to try to get back to sleep - or stay up and be knackered all day tomorrow.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah… you?”

“Yes, starving.”

“Okay, let’s go down and get something and see if we can go back to sleep afterwards. Maybe a glass of wine or two might help.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We throw on some comfy clothes and quietly plod down the stairs on the gorgeous, thick carpet to prepare some dinner. I always notice the
carpet, it feels so new and fluffy, even under socked feet.

I can’t believe I slept, and for so long, too! It’s completely messed up my plans to be back to normal tomorrow, bright and ready for my first day back at work. Instead, I’m going to be tired and ratty while I think of Oliver all day, and the combination will probably result in a serious lack of concentration.