Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3)

by Nicole Fiorina

  She lifted her head, her chin resting over her arm. “I can’t lose you.”

  “You’re not losing me.”

  “Promise me.”

  “You’re never losing me,” I repeated. “I promise.”

  Mia nursed my wounds and helped me into the bed. I’d been through worse before, but it seemed to make her feel better to help.

  I spotted my book lying over the nightstand and asked her about it.

  “They have a bookstore close by,” she shrugged from the other room, picking up my wet clothes from the floor and disappearing into the bathroom, her voice trailing after her, “I went and grabbed a copy of Oliver Masters poetry book, volume one.”

  “Oh, yeah?” This made me smile. I’d left her a few ponies, and I knew how much the book cost. “I could’ve given you a copy, love.”

  Mia re-appeared into the room, cleaning and unable to sit still. “I wanted to buy it to support you. But it didn’t occur to me until I was walking back to the hotel that you pretty much just paid for your own book because it wasn’t even my money, to begin with.”

  “Your money,” I corrected her, wincing as I turned on my side so I could watch her.

  Her brows bunched together. “Huh?”

  “Everything I’ve built was for our future. It’s as much yours as it is mine.”

  “Don’t say that,” she shook her head, “It’s all your hard work. I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”

  Mia walked around the room and slipped under the covers beside me in the king-sized bed, careful not to touch me, but I wanted her to. I tried to sit up, but an ache shot through my back. Groaning, I fell back into the bed. “Have you read the poetry, Mia?” White teeth dug into her bottom lip as her eyes locked on mine. Slowly, she shook her head, and my other hand came up to graze her jawline and down the base of her neck, despite the amount of pain coursing through me. “My love for you bleeds onto those pages. I write because I can’t contain my feelings for you, but I publish because I want the entire world to know a love like ours exists.” Her breath shuddered, and my thumb moved over her bottom lip. “It gives people hope, something to believe in. Something to never stop searching for.”

  “Will you read to me tonight? You know, if you’re up for it.”

  I smiled. “I couldn’t think of anything more I’d rather do.”

  Mia twisted in the bed, and I caught a glimpse of her arse peeking out from under my large tee she wore as she grabbed the book from the nightstand. Soft legs instantly tangled with mine, as she laid close to my side, jasmine filling my senses. Momentarily, I closed my eyes to cement this moment and stir the many memories of us the past two years. The Links could do whatever they wanted to me, but as long as I got to come back to my home beside her, I knew everything would be okay.

  I opened the book to the dedication page.

  “A poet’s lullaby,” I read, then went on with the rest of the poem as her hand lightly moved over my chest, and my heart thumped against her palm.

  “That’s beautiful,” Mia hummed against my neck.

  “No talking, love. We’ll never get through this book if you keep making comments,” I pointed out, and she looked up from thick lashes, and I offered a grin before turning to the next page.

  It was a Tuesday morning, and we’d been camped in the hotel until Ollie fully healed.

  He was still asleep when the sun rose and yellow and orange rays swept through the hotel room through the partially opened navy blue curtain. His arm rested over his head as his face tilted away from me, and I took the time to trace my fingers over his sculpted features daintily. My fingertip outlined his tattoos, hard chest, down his abdomen where bruises had changed colors, and over the curves of his abs. His body, branded in black ink, was the eighth wonder, and I’d wished I could hang him in the sky, his iridescent vibe raining over this somber earth. Maybe, then, people could finally stop and see the world the way he saw it and have a reason to smile again.

  Ollie hummed in his sleep at my touch, and I lifted my gaze to catch his lashes fluttering and lips part as a breathy moan escaped. I waited until he stilled before moving my hand south, feeling the light trail of hair beneath my fingertips. Last night, we laid naked, twined parts, anchored hearts, and twisted souls, and this was what love with him was like.

  His gifted size stretched in my hand, swollen and warm, and I sank beneath the covers between his legs with a spontaneous smile. I dragged my tongue up the length of his shaft, and the muscles in his thighs tightened under my palms. “Jesus Christ,” he growled before I circled the end of my tongue over the bead of pre-cum, then taking him all in to my mouth.

  Ollie’s hips jerked forward and his fingers tangled in my hair as I sucked him slowly, stroking the sensitive spot with my tongue. The white and navy duvet was kicked off from over me before he pulled his knees up, and I looked up to see Ollie staring down at me through heavy green eyes.

  I took him deep, and Ollie’s head fell back into the pillow. “You keep doing that, I’m going to come.”

  “That’s the point,” I whispered, my lips brushing his tight skin.

  Ollie’s pleading eyes returned to me, and he pushed the hair from my face and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. I crawled up his torso until his nose brushed mine, and I straddled him, sinking over his arousal until inch by stretched inch, he filled me. Our fingers laced together as my sex clenched around him, grinding and rolling to an intense beat. His hands left mine to run the tips of his fingers along my curves, to my hips, and ultimately grabbing two handfuls of my bottom as his moves became frantic, meeting my every grind. I bit down on my lip to fight the climax threatening to spill, but my legs were giving me away, shaking uncontrollably.

  Ollie grabbed my hipbones, pinning my center to his until every muscle in his body tensed under his inked skin as he came undone. “Nobody controls my body like you can,” he whispered into my hair. “You take me and make me crazy, love.”

  I laughed into the crook of his neck. “Good morning, by the way.”

  His hands roamed from my ass and over the scars of my back. “I knew I liked mornings for a reason.” And his nose brushed mine once more before I rolled off of him and to his side.

  “Ollie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why do I feel like this is the calm before the storm.”

  Ollie rolled onto his side and licked his lips. His mouth opened, about to say something, then closed, stuck in turbulent thoughts. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

  “A cemetery,” I questioned, my tone pitched and recovering from the story he’d gone over. Twice, because I asked him to retell it to be sure I’d heard correctly. “You buried the money in a fucking cemetery?”

  “Yes.” He nodded, resolved.

  “Let me get this straight. You stole all the assets from your brother’s prostitution ring and buried it next to George something’s gravesite because …”

  “‘When death comes, it is never our tenderness we repent from, but our severity’, George Eliot,” he quoted, which didn’t help clear this up at all.

  “I don’t think Mr. Eliot wanted the earth around him disturbed by fuck money.”

  “First of all, George Eliot was a woman and a legend. Second, I think she’d find the irony amusing.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Very poetic, Ollie.”

  “Thank you,” he said through a smile. “Tonight, we have to break into Highgate cemetery to retrieve the money.”

  “Then you’re just going to, what? Hand the money off to Dex?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “forty-three grand, give or take. But Dex doesn’t know how much exactly. I’ll give him half, and drop the other half off to Brad Burn’s family. Leave the rest for his kids and wife. They don’t deserve to struggle without a father.”

  “That’s a lot of money you buried.”

  “I was pissed off whiskey and a grudge. Lost a g
rand somewhere between the car and the tombstone, I’m sure,” he shrugged. “Not my greatest moment.”

  I shook my head, grinning.

  Ollie stroked my side. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “They say you can’t bury the money with you. You sure showed them.”

  Ollie’s head fell back, a small cackle escaping.

  “It’s just … I’m glad you told me, you know. Including me in this. You can’t take all your secrets to your grave.”

  “Oh, here we go.”

  “What?” I arched a brow. “Am I digging myself a deeper hole?”

  Ollie’s smile was contagious, and he tried shaking his head through his laughter.

  “We’re six feet deep into this mess,” I laughed, “and I could go all day.”

  “You do that.” He smacked my ass. “I’m going to shower. You coming?”

  “You going to bury yourself inside me again?” Ollie turned his head and walked away, but I felt his smile linger as I watched his smooth tanned ass all the way to the bathroom.

  The sound of water bouncing off the tile spilled from the bathroom, and Ollie poked his head through the doorway. “You’ll be in grave danger if you’re not in here in five seconds.”

  The car stopped in front of a cobblestone cottage, and my gaze snapped to Ollie, who wore a proud smile. “Welcome home, love.”E

  “Ollie …” I whispered, my eyes glued to the charming little house.

  He grabbed my hand from my lap and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “Come on. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

  Ollie cut the engine, and we both exited the car. My eyes landed everywhere, the gate with an empty bronze plaque waiting to be engraved, the tiny bridge arching over a creek, the mailbox, which was an exact miniature replica of the cottage. Vines crawled vertically up the front of the house, clinging on to the gray and white stone surface, and the front door was curved and chipped around the antique knocker. We’d left our bags inside the car, and Ollie opened the gate and let me walk ahead of him. “This is … I’m …”

  “Gobsmacked?” he finished.

  “Yeah, Ollie,” I laughed, “I’m fucking gobsmacked. Houses like this belong in books. Fairytales. They don’t belong in the real world.”

  “This is real, and this is yours,” the door creaked open and we walked inside as he continued, “I haven’t been here yet, so please excuse any mess Travis left. Him and Summer stayed while I was away. But they’re gone now. It’s just us …” but I could hardly listen as I took in the nostalgic vibe the home transcended. We walked right into a small living room, and two thick wooden beams stood on both sides of us as a large leather couch sat against a wall, facing a fireplace. An old piano tucked in the corner. “Watch your step,” he grabbed my elbow, leading me off a single step.

  Wordlessly, we walked through the living area, over the hardwood floors and toward the kitchen in the back, which overlooked a lake with a dock. The kitchen was small with open shelving, and I ran my fingers over the shelves, remembering what Ollie said back in Pennsylvania on my thoughts about them. Little did I know, he had been serious.

  “There’s only two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Figured less square footage and walls between us would be ideal. I never needed much, Mia. I’m a simple man.”

  “I love it.”

  “You haven’t seen the best parts yet.”

  “There’s more?”

  Ollie grabbed my hand and led me to the master bedroom. The fireplace from the living room was a shared one with the master, and surrounding the brick were built-in bookshelves. Every detail was timeless, hand-crafted, and quaint. I followed him into the white bathroom where a free-standing tub sat against the back window, potted plants lining the sill.

  “Okay, you’re going to love this,” he said excitedly, leading me out of the room and toward a narrow staircase lined in piles upon piles of books. “Ignore those. I’ve had books shipped, but I’m OCD about how they’re organized. I told Travis to set them anywhere.”

  When our feet landed on the top step, it was a finished attic, complete with a dark room for my photography. Tears sprung in my eyes. “This is surreal,” I said through a shaky breath. “Ollie, this isn’t real.”

  “It’s real,” he smiled, eyes glassy, “I can’t take all the credit. I put Travis to work. To be honest with you, I haven’t been able to come here at all. Not until I had you safely back.”

  “This is your first time here?”

  “It is. Travis did alright, yeah?”

  “I can’t believe this,” I kept repeating. It was in front of me, but for some reason, I couldn’t comprehend it. For so long, I’d never thought I was worthy of not only a place to finally feel accepted and at home, but with a man who was so opposite of me—who was everything I wasn’t. A man who’d never stopped encouraging me or pushing me to be the best version of myself.

  I held back my emotions until we walked through the back door of the kitchen and out onto the garden. A fire pit rested in the middle of our yard, and the cobblestone house blended over the ground, creating an illusion of a stone deck and a pathway out to the dock. “In the summer, this garden will be covered in flowers. Not sure which ones yet, but I suppose we’ll find out soon.”

  Two chairs rested right outside the backdoor, and Ollie sat over a chair and pulled me into his lap, releasing a long breath. We sat in silence for a while, with his chin dropped over my shoulder.

  “Well, what do you think? Want to make a home here?” Ollie asked as we gently rocked in the chair, the view of the water stealing our gaze.

  Birds flew from tree to tree, singing, and I curled deeper against him. “It’s perfect.”

  “Mia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s you and I, evermore,” he whispered, and he shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants and held up a small burlap box between us. “I bought this ring in the village right after I saw the cabin fire on the telly. I knew, God, I fucking knew that was you crying out for me. And perhaps no matter where we are, our souls still speak to each other. It’s the sweetest sound, and I’ve never doubted our music.” Ollie opened the burlap box, and plucked the ring from inside. “I’d been holding on to this ring ever since, waiting for this chance to put it on your finger.”

  Ollie took my hand in his and slipped it on. Speechless, a tear fell down my cheek as I stared at it. The ring was round and simple, rose gold, with tiny diamonds surrounding a larger one in the center. It was perfect. “It’s beautiful.” I turned my head to face him, and his wondrous vulnerable green eyes shone back at me.

  I dropped my forehead to his, and his nose brushed against mine before his lips did. “I love you, Mia,” he whispered against my mouth before our lips locked in an unhurried and ardent kiss. Emotions dominated both of us before we broke away, and I stuffed my face into his neck.

  “This is the ultimate serial criminal kit. Black attire, a shovel, gloves, and a flashlight.” Mia laughed with her arms crossed over her chest against the car, her diamond ring glimmering in the night. “I feel worthless like I’m only along for immoral support.”

  “You’re holding the flashlight,” I pointed out, closing the trunk.

  It was close to midnight, and the drive was about an hour to London. I made a turn onto Dartmouth Park Hill and drove until I found the same spot I’d parked before where the corporate offices bundled together. Just on the other side laid George Eliot and forty-three grand, give or take a thousand. The moon lit up the grey murky sky through puffed stringy clouds as if someone dragged claws through them. “We’re here.”

  We had to be fast and invisible. And I jumped out of the car and rounded to the back as Mia followed in her newly purchased black jeans, black long-sleeved shirt, black puffer vest, and a black beanie fitted over her head. I looked the same, omit the puffer jacket, and adrenaline pumped through the both of us as I grabbed the duffle from the trunk, which carried the i
tems we needed. The hike to the wall through the overgrown forest was short, and I was glad Mia decided to wear her combat boots. I shouldered the duffle and kissed my girl. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Once we hit the wall, I directed her to shine the flashlight down the length of the stone. “There’s a door here somewhere. It blends into the rubble.” Our feet sunk into the mud as we walked along the wall, my hand grazing the stone, feeling for the wooden door.

  “I think this is it,” Mia called out in a low voice a few feet ahead of me. “Do I just open it? How did you know this was here?”

  I grinned. “I can’t give away all my secrets.”

  “Taking it to the grave?”

  “Yup.” My thumb dropped down the lever of the handle, and I gave it a shoulder shove until the door gave in. We passed a layer of thick brush until we spotted a trail. The cemetery had an intense aroma of dying days and an irreversible past. A gothic Victorian eeriness lingered within the dense vegetation of canopied trees and scattered tombstones, embodying and transporting us back into an uncanny time. The moon bored down on us, bouncing off Mia’s pale face as chills ran down my spine like it had the last time I was here. I nodded my head forward, and our boots and breaths bounced between us through the mud until we stepped foot on more solid ground. Harsh midnight winds ripped through her hair, but we were almost there.

  I stood in front of George Eliot’s faded tombstone. “Of those immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence,” I read, admiring the engraving for the second time.

  “Mary Ann Cross,” Mia added, staring at the tall gray stone.

  “She took the pen name of a man so her work would be taken seriously.”