by Mara McQueen
She opened her eyes, meeting his own. Time stood still. A whimper escaped her when he thrust harder, her hips bucking upwards to meet him, sway for sway.
He gathered her wrists underneath one of his large palms, and the other ghosted between them, touching her center in gentle circular motions.
Olivia moaned loudly and she felt her eyes starting to water. The pressure was too much, it throbbed throughout her, pulsing agonizingly where their bodies met. She abandoned herself to her desire and sensations.
“Get lost with me,” he whispered, his lips barely touching hers. “Come for me, Olivia.”
Olivia shattered underneath him. She coiled her legs around him, drawing his body and his breath into her, melding them together.
Her world stopped spinning only when Kieran groaned and tensed, fingers digging into the small of her back. He collapsed on top of her, his weight a welcomed comfort.
They remained still as their hearts stopped racing, breathing each other’s skin. Olivia’s body lay limp underneath his, completely drained. She’d never thought she would be so tired by simply lying on her back.
“Did you like my surprise?” he asked in a small voice when they both stopped shivering, his face nestled in the crook of her neck.
Olivia rested her cheek on top of his head, stroking his back with numb fingers. Honestly? She was sure she wouldn’t ever reach the same heights as with him, for the rest of her life. But that was a crazy, selfish thought.
“Very much,” she said instead.
He propped himself on his elbows to look at her. His intense gaze darted across her face, from her lips to her eyes, as if looking for the truth of her words. She offered him a content smile, which he returned before capturing her lips in a languid kiss. As much as he had been in a rush to claim her body, his kiss was unhurried, like he wanted to savor her for eternity.
But they didn’t have forever. They only had a few more days together, and Olivia's heart was already breaking at the thought of leaving him.
Ominous Tempo
Olivia had planned on leaving Kieran's room as soon as she regained control of her trembling legs, but she’d fallen asleep cradled in his strong arms.
At one point in the night, a screeching noise had jerked her awake. Kieran had woken up too, panicked that, of all things, someone had invaded the room. He had almost jumped out of bed, ready to attack.
It seemed Olivia wasn’t the only one prone to crazy midnight ideas.
When they realized it was only the storm, Kieran calmed Olivia's galloping heart with a searing kiss.
He coaxed her back to sleep, kissing her neck and muttering sweet nothings, half of which she didn’t understand.
She woke up in the morning to the monotonous sound of rain against the windows. Her head rested on Kieran’s shoulder, as he drew indiscernible patterns across her naked back. She stretched against him, every sore muscle burning deliciously from last night.
“Good morning,” he said sleepily, kissing her temple. “You were restless last night. Nightmares?”
“No, just a very good dream.” She raised her head to look at him. “Well, what do you know? It’s real.”
Kieran laughed, and his chest rumbled soothingly, as Olivia rested her head back. She didn’t want to move; not now, not ever. The thought of leaving his embrace and trudging to her room left a bitter taste.
But she knew she had to. But first, a shower.
“You know where my bra is?” she mumbled, even as her body scooted closer to him, loathe to leave.
“Haven’t the slightest idea. Must’ve disappeared forever,” he said and Olivia laughed, pinching the side of his chest. “Oy, careful. You’re damaging your dream man here.”
“I said you were a dream, not my dream man.”
“Ouch.” He hugged her closer. “Way to shoot down my ego, darling.”
Olivia ran her fingers across his abdomen, feeling the well-defined ridges. “Fine, you can keep the bra. But I’ll need my underwear. A respectable lady can’t run across the hallway without that, now can she?”
“We both know you have clothes in your bag.”
Olivia gawked at him. “How do you...?”
“You left it open by the bed and your knickers are hanging out. I’m not just a pretty face, I can figure out that impossible riddle.”
“Oh.” Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. “That. Sorry.”
“That means you agree the perfect solution is for you to stay here. Smart woman.”
“I need to take a shower. I’m all sticky and gross.”
Jesus. Pillow talk had never been her forte. One time in college, she had agreed to cook a Thanksgiving dinner, while also describing—in vivid, cringe-worthy detail—why she was sure turkeys must’ve looked sexy to other birds, five minutes after waking up.
Good thing she wasn’t a spy. Forget torture, all she needed was a good night’s sleep and she’d be throwing secrets around like they were candy.
But Kieran didn’t seem to mind. He nuzzled her hair and inhaled deeply.
“You smell like me. I like it.” He shrugged his shoulder to turn Olivia’s face toward him. “I have a perfectly adequate bathroom right here. Unless you’re planning on going out in the middle of a storm.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Actually, I’m going to pop on down and have some tea with your grandmother.”
Kieran smiled. “That would be so outrageous. Wouldn’t you like to relax instead?”
Yes, she did. Not traipsing back to her room on shaky legs, and simply walking a few feet to a nice, warm bath sounded amazing.
But those doubts crept up on her again. Maybe Kieran wanted to be alone in the morning, and he was just being polite.
“Stay,” he said slowly, leaving a trail of small kisses down her chin. “We only have two days left.”
And that was the problem. She was getting too attached for her own good. Back in the city, the parameters of their...liaison...would’ve been much simpler. Olivia knew how she was supposed to act, what to say and how to leave the poor sucker wanting more.
It was hard, this weird balancing act she had to do. Indulge herself and stay as near him for as long as humanly possible while also making sure she didn't fall for him beyond the point where she could piece her heart back together.
She was woman enough to admit this situation disoriented her. But she also knew he was right.
Olivia got up unceremoniously, swooped down, retrieved her bag, and dashed toward the double doors leading to his bathroom.
“That’s not going to work, you know?” Kieran from behind her. “I have a very nice view even when you’re running.”
Olivia smiled back, and flipped him off, before walking on her chilling toe tips. She turned the doorknob and found herself in a white and black bathroom, which looked frozen in time since the early 1920s. The only new-ish appliance was the bathtub itself, too big to have been commissioned in a post-war era.
After fumbling with the faucet for a disgracefully long time, Olivia glanced at herself in the mirror as the tub filled.
She grinned contently at the small red marks all over her neck and chest, and descended into the water, hissing at the heat.
Maybe the water was too hot. Maybe her skin was too sensitive. Her grin grew—she was sensitive for a reason.
Thank God she already got the contract, or she would’ve spent the next couple of days in lustful agitation.
But her traitorous mind wandered. If Milo did want to one-up her with the contract, then she needed to be prepared. Presentation, plan, the works. She couldn’t risk walking into the office on Monday and just hope and pray things would work out. She needed a plan.
A reluctant tremor shot through her. She had come too far, worked too hard, for Milo to win her promotion. Her career was the only thing she had. The only thing she truly owned. She couldn't allow herself to be sidetracked from her main goal—paying off her debt, and getting her life on track.
A dark cloud settle
d over her and refused to dissipate even when Kieran came into the bathroom.
Well, now he was just overdoing it. He had a glass of red wine in one hand, laptop balanced steadily in the other, and a smirk on his face.
How could Olivia possibly go back to her normal, lackluster life when he went around pampering her?
The last romantic anything she’d been involved in had consisted of finding an unsigned daffodil bouquet outside her apartment, which had clearly been meant for someone else.
“Nan taught me an exhausted woman always needs a glass of wine at least three feet away from her. And I always listen.” He handed her the glass, already turning away.
But Olivia didn’t want him to go so soon. She arched her back and tasted the tangy wine, licking her lips a little too slowly.
“Minx,” he murmured, and approached the bath slowly, crouching down. His free hand barely grazed the water as his lips gently touched her bare shoulder.
That simple touch did it. This was perfection, and she wanted it. Every single day. This comfort, this ease, the passion hidden right underneath the surface. With him.
But Kieran couldn’t leave Bolton Manor because he needed to take care of his grandmother. Olivia couldn't ignore her debt. They were screwed.
She didn’t want to leave him, that much was obvious, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise—which meant she absolutely had to before she did something as stupid as completely and totally fall in love with him.
And there was only one thing which could convince her to do it. “Can I borrow your laptop for five minutes?”
“Sure,” he said easily, handing her the device.
“You’re not scared I’m going to find your super-secret information?”
“Honestly?”
“Please.” It was one of the things she liked most about him, how he said exactly what was on his mind.
“Unless you have a programming background you forgot to mention, I don’t think you’ll be able to even find the file that generates a password every half an hour for the portal that gives you the code you’d need to crack to get to the first firewall protecting said information.” A corner of his mouth quirked up. “But you can try.”
“Someone’s mighty cocky this morning.”
Kieran shrugged as he stepped out of the bathroom. “Why be coy about the only thing I’m good at?”
Oh, he was a master of many other things. But Olivia didn’t say that. Instead, she steeled herself, and focused on the laptop, accessing the account which had been haunting her for years.
She’d done this countless times before. Whenever she had a rough day at work. After listening to snooty nineteen-year-olds with daddy’s credit card talk about how they planned on tearing out gorgeous tapestry to make everything golden. When all she wanted to do was screw it all. Hand in her resignation, and beg the first art gallery to hire her for minimum wage.
At the end of those days, Olivia checked her student loan repayment account to scare some sense back into herself.
No matter how much she scrimped and saved, those zeroes weren’t disappearing fast enough. She’d barely chipped at the real debt, most of her money eaten up by the insane interest she’d agreed to, desperate to go to college. Desperate to prove her parents wrong.
She couldn’t risk this number growing, and wrecking her life any more than it already had.
Seeing the number again sobered her up. She needed that promotion, needed the Bolton Manor commission, and needed to not risk everything she’d worked for.
But it hurt. With this debt hanging over her head, all two-hundred-plus-thousand dollars, she didn’t have the option of closing out the rest of the world and forget about everything else other than her and Kieran.
She didn’t have the luxury to let time decide whether they’d make it.
She couldn’t risk her future, no matter how much her heart begged her to. What did her heart know? For all she knew, once Kieran would be free of Bolton Manor, he’d forget Olivia existed.
All those bleak thoughts must’ve shown on her face because as soon as Kieran came back, he rushed to her side. “What’s wrong?”
Olivia shook her head, closing the laptop quickly. She cursed young Olivia for the mess she had to deal with now.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he said, concern lacing his voice.
There it was again, him being selfless and kind, which only made Olivia’s embarrassment grow. Kieran thought her smart and level-headed. What would he say when he found out what a fool she’d been? But she was suddenly struck with the need to spill out her secret. Maybe it wouldn’t seem so daunting once she said it out loud, for the first time in her life.
And maybe, just maybe, he would understand why she had to leave.
“I did something stupid back when I was too young to be making this kind of decision,” she began, not meeting his eyes. “I took out an insane student loan and it’s been chipping at my sanity ever since. No matter how much I try to tame it, it only seems to grow more fangs, day after day.”
When Kieran’s fingers began to gently massage her shoulder, encouraging and comforting, she went on, feeling lighter with each word that passed her lips. “I hate it. I hate that I struggle every single day to get better at a job I don’t love. I hate that the only reason I want a promotion is to fix a mistake I made barely out of high school. I hate that I can’t just work in an art gallery, and instead have to see art demolished every other week. I just...hate it all. I was so stupid.”
There. Now her secret was out in the open. She took a shuddered breath as the last words slipped off her tongue, hesitant to look at Kieran.
“Never call yourself that. It’s the system that’s screwed up. Wanting an education in a field you love shouldn’t trap you for life or make you frown like you are now, and it’s definitely not stupid.”
Even the comfortable silence that lapsed between them couldn't still Olivia's heart.
“Listen,” Kieran began, his eyes on Olivia's glass. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous hobby for some,” she said cautiously
“How about..." he said slowly, fingers ghosting across her collarbone. "You stay here for a few more days?"
The change in Olivia was immediate. Her entire body tensed. Kieran's fingers slipped from her shoulder. She instantly missed his warmth. “Are you joking?”
Kieran shook his head slowly. "I know this house isn't exactly ideal, but I was hoping—"
"No, you can't," she said, much louder than needed.
If he started hoping, then she would, and they'd be both doomed.
"I can't. I can't shut myself off. I can't," she went on, barely recognizing her own voice.
“Why?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion.
“Because.” Olivia sunk down deeper into the water.
Because she might fall in love with him.
Because he might grow bored with her.
Because she might risk it all and end up with a broken heart and nothing more.
“Did I scare you last night?” he asked. The trepidation in his voice made Olivia screw her eyes shut.
“No, of course not. No,” she said and extended her arm toward him, drops of water flying. She tried to place it on his leg, but he shrunk back. “I really liked it. You saw that. And heard it. But I need to leave.”
“And a few days make a difference?”
“Yes, unfortunately, they do,” she said. But she wasn’t solely talking about her job. One more day could make her fall in love with him irrevocably.
“If this is about your student loans…You’re going to sell this house and get the commission. That has to help.”
“It would. Kind of.” It would make a small dent, but it still wouldn’t be enough. “But Milo getting the promotion instead of me would set me back too far to risk it.”
He clenched his fists and got up. “Of course. I understand. Everyone has to leave this place eventually. I'd hoped you wante
d to stay longer, but it's okay.”
Olivia frowned. “Kieran, I—”
“No, I get it. I do.” He shook his head. “It’s fine. You have other, more important things to take care of. I know this house isn’t exactly welcoming. I thought I had erased that.”
Behind the anger, and the tension in his shoulders, Olivia saw deep, raw desperation, fighting not to be shown. She knew that look—it was the same one she’d tried in vain to mask when her parents would depart for weeks, months on end, and leave her alone.
The agony of thinking you weren’t wanted.
Shit.
Olivia hadn’t thought she’d hurt anyone else but herself. She hadn’t stopped to consider the fact that he had been emotionally scarred by his parents’ abandonment. Maybe his father had even lied about his son’s existence until he grew up. Mrs. Bolton didn’t strike Olivia as a coldhearted harpy who’d disregard her own flesh and blood simply to keep up appearances. The woman must've been unaware she had a grandson for many, many years.
“Enjoy your bath.” Kieran opened the door and stepped out without a second glance.
Once Olivia had her underwear and the fluffiest bathrobe in existence securely shielding her body, she went after him.
Kieran tugged the heavy drapes to the side and opened the windows as far as they could go, indifferent to the heavy rain soaking his carpet, or the cold wind blowing into his hair. The clouds darkened the sky so much, the small bedside lamp couldn’t fully illuminate the room, and the lighting created harsh shadows inside.
Each subsequent thunder turned into an ominous tempo.
And Kieran’s silence only increased the tension. He still hadn’t turned to Olivia, stubbornly avoiding her eyes.
She cleared her throat, ignoring everything else around her except for the infuriating man who wouldn't look at her.
“It’s not about you,” she started, keeping her voice even. “I want to stay. I do.”
Kieran didn’t turn around, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. "I understand."
“It doesn't look like it. I think you might be taking this—” She hesitated, trying to find the appropriate words. After how she’d blundered it in the bathroom, she didn’t want a repeat performance, and she couldn’t admit the information about his childhood had been so carelessly revealed in the middle of a forest, by Milo of all people. “—the wrong way. I need to be back in Leeds. I don’t have a back-up plan. It’s me, alone. I'm not like you, I can’t work remotely.”