“Are you okay?” My voice is barely audible when I ask him, and he raises an eyebrow at me before responding.
“What do you think?” He fills a glass with water and pushes it towards me.
I feel my cheeks go crimson, but I pick it up and take a large gulp. “I’m so sorry. It really wasn’t what it looked like. I can understand you being mad, god I would be too, but please believe me,” I beg, the words tumbling out of my mouth.
He puts his beer down on the countertop, resting his hands on either side of it, and looks at me. “I know, Mia, and I do believe you. It was just a shock, coming in to find you . . .” He struggles for the words and he closes his eyes. “I do trust you, Mia. It’s him I don’t trust.” He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath as he comes around the counter. He wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. I turn to him and hug him back. I suddenly feel like crying. Oliver trusts me, but I agonize. Should he?
“I hate that guy so much, like you wouldn’t even believe. I don’t want him in our home and I don’t want him near you.” I can feel his jaw grinding as he leans his head against the crown of mine. “I’ve had the most horrendous day, Mia. You wouldn’t believe it.” I hear him swallow and I look up into his face.
“What’s happened, Ollie?”
He hugs me tighter, leans down to me and kisses my lips. “Don’t worry about it, Mia.” I look into his eyes and see something there—something sad. On the other hand, maybe my own guilt-wracked conscience is seeing things that aren’t there.
I reach up and kiss him with all the passion and love I can muster in my shame filled state, all the while mumbling apologies to him. Oliver slides his jacket off his shoulders letting it hit the floor. His hands fist in the back of my hair, and he pulls away from our clinch and stares fervently into my face. His eyes are like pools of warm chocolate, deep and luxurious, and I feel lost to him, swallowed whole by his desire and love, and total adoration of me.
He pulls and tugs at our clothes, undressing us both urgently, and I sense that he needs this, needs me, right now…like this. I hold on to the counter behind me as he undoes my pants. He bends and slides them down my legs, kissing down my inner thigh and along my calf as he goes. Shivers trail in his wake, leaving goose pimples of pleasure. He reaches my foot, lifting it up and bites down gently on the pad of my big toe, before dragging my pants off the end of my foot. I cry out at the sensation, and he lifts my other leg and gives it the same erotic treatment.
His hands move back up my body. Oliver pulls my panties down as he does, letting them slide down my legs, and I kick them away. There is nothing between us now and no one else in this moment. Oliver pulls his T-shirt over his head, his chest a wall of hard muscle. He lifts my top up and over my head, and then unclips my bra, freeing my breasts before taking them in his strong hands and massaging them, pulling on my nipples as he takes them in his mouth one at a time and sucks. I moan out and grind my crotch against him as he looks up at me.
His eyes blaze with need as he pulls my body roughly against his. His breath shaky when it leaves his mouth and I feel a tremor of tension running through him. He lifts my leg to his waist and I watch his muscles tighten on his forearms as he pushes himself inside me in one swift movement. I cry out loudly when I feel the fullness of him. All the time he stares into my eyes, crushing his lean body against mine, our bodies wrapped tightly together in a knot of limbs.
It’s quick and passionate—almost as if he is staking a claim on me—as he bites down on my shoulder, thrusting into me repeatedly. I cry out again and again, as I take all of him. I lean back on the counter and he lifts my other leg up to straddle his waist. I hold on to the sides of the breakfast bar as I feel the pressure of my orgasm building in my core, and looking into his eyes, I see it building in him too. His hands hold my hips firmly and I lock my ankles around him. He thrusts again even harder, spilling himself inside me, and I cry out again, dragging my nails down his back.
*
We sit for the rest of the night entwined on the sofa, wrapped in blankets and watching old eighties movies with a Chinese takeaway. Occasionally, I sense Oliver looking at me from the corner of his eye. He seems so sad and lost. I don’t know what to do to make him feel better, so I snuggle closer to him. We feed each other the Chinese noodles and laugh together until the early morning. I notice that Rachael hasn’t come home. I look at the clock and assume she’s either out dancing or has gone back to Chris’s house.
I’m so dog tired and weary with everything, I don’t have the energy to worry about her love life. Especially since mine is becoming so disastrously shaky. I just want to crawl into bed, curl up with my man, and leave all the week’s awful events behind us. My legs drape over his under the blanket, and my head rests on his tense shoulder. My eyes are blurring as sleep tries to intrude. I am drifting along on a bed of clouds; Oliver’s arms are around me, holding me to him—keeping me safe.
“Time for bed, Mia,” Oliver whispers in my ear. I look up at him through my lashes, a sleepy smile playing on my mouth. I surrender myself to him and place my head against his warm chest. I listen to his heart beating within its strong confines. He carries me to our bedroom and places me gently on the bed.
“Be right back, baby.” He pecks me on the cheek and turns to leave.
“Where are you going?” I ask, stifling a yawn.
“I’m going to have a quick tidy round. I won’t be long. I’ll bring you some water back.”
“Just leave it, Ollie. We can sort it in the morning.” I pull my bed shorts and vest top on, flinging my dirty clothes in the corner without care.
“Mia, you’re going to have a cracking hangover tomorrow. The last thing you’re going to want to do is wake up to the smell of cold Chinese and beer. Anyway, you need to drink lots of water.”
He makes to leave and sees my face fall, quickly returning to give me another peck on the lips. I try to kiss him deeper but he pulls away.
“Let me look after you,” he pleads as he holds my face in his hands. He looks into my eyes with concern.
I force a smile for his sake and nod. “Okay.”
“Sleep, Mia. I won’t be long.” He pulls the covers back from the bed and I crawl in with a pout. It doesn’t seem right to be going to bed without him. Not after what happened tonight. I shake my head when he turns out the light and leaves the room.
I decide to wait up for him to come back; he said he would only be a few minutes. I lie back on my pillow while I wait. I realise I haven’t asked Oliver why he was so late home from work or why he hadn’t returned any of my calls. I stifle another yawn as my head sinks deeper into the soft pillow, my eyes rolling with tiredness. I can hear him walking around and I try to place what he is doing as I slip into sleep.
*
I wake, but it’s still dark out. It feels like I have only been asleep for a few minutes. My head is groggy from my dreams, and my brain is banging inside my skull. I want to clutch it with both hands, it hurts so much. Oliver warned me over this hangover. I need water, and painkillers, but the thought of moving any part of me is just that—a thought. I pray I don’t feel this bad all day. I try to drift back off, but as I do, I hear talking. I listen as it becomes more urgent and angry. I realise Oliver is not beside me when my hand reaches out for him, and I struggle to open my eyes. However, I am so unbelievably exhausted and my head feels like it is about to crash in on itself. My eyelids feel like there are lead weights on them. I can feel sleep lulling me back under, to compensate for the pain and tiredness, as the conversation gets louder.
“I can’t.” Words, whispered and heated, drift to me.
“Please don’t do this . . .” They drown out into a breathy mutter.
I’m panicked now when I realise it’s Oliver's voice. My eyelids open. The bedroom door is open a crack, the way Oliver left it, and I can see light spilling in the room from the hallway. I take a deep breath and heave my body upright, trying to rub the sleep away from my face. My head
is banging and the room sways when I try to focus on the words.
“You don’t frighten me, none of you do. I know all about you—about him!” Oliver sounds angry, furious even, and my heart races in panic.
I want to go to him and make sure that he’s okay, but dizziness washes over me, forcing me to lie back down. The room is spinning, and I close my eyes to steady myself.
“Please…I’m begging you.”
I can hear the conversation continuing, but the words elude me as I fight my body’s natural reaction to purge itself of alcohol.
Please do not puke. Please do not puke, I beg myself. I can feel my mouth watering in advance of the upcoming vomit.
I breathe in through my nose slowly, and out through my mouth, until the room stops spinning. My stomach begins to settle and sleep lulls me back under, no matter how hard I want to fight it.
Nine
Mia.
Morning light shines in at me from a crack in the curtains; I sit up and see Oliver snoring softly. I think back to last night and wonder whether it had all been a dream.
I slip my feet out from under the covers—the room is surprisingly steady—and I make a break for the bathroom. I slip under the hot current of water from the shower and let it wash away my troubles until hunger gets the better of me. I feel a flood of relief that my head isn’t hurting too much. Although it’s thudding in the background, it’s nothing some painkillers can’t handle. I dry myself, slip on one of Oliver’s long T-shirts, and make my way to the kitchen to make some breakfast.
I hear Rachael’s bedroom door open as I begin to whisk some eggs up in a bowl, and I look up to smile at her. It’s only just after nine on a Saturday, so she must have had a great night to be up this early.
I hope she’s not hungover; she was out drinking much later than I was. Chris walks by me with a sheepish grin and I can’t stop the shocked look from forming on my face. Rachael holds his hand and trails behind him to the door. I try to pull the T-shirt lower to cover my legs, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment.
“Can’t you stay for breakfast?” She wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him into a deep kiss.
He pries her arms off. “Ummm, no, I need to get going, things to do and all that.” He looks over to me with a smile. “Morning, Mia. Did you have a good time last night?”
“Morning.” I smile back. “Last night? Oh, erm, yeah, it was great. Bit too much to drink you know, but it was fine. You?” I busy myself with whisking the eggs ferociously.
I hate being privy to their conversation, never mind being included in it when from the look on Rachael’s face she wants him all to herself.
“Everyone seems nice enough, and I liked The Red Room. You’ll have to come next time,” Chris continues. “We were dancing for hours.” He looks me over. “I bet you’re a great dancer.”
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks again. “Erm, yeah. It’s a great place. Next time me and my boyfriend will definitely be there.” I emphasize the boyfriend part. Chris seems a little too friendly for my liking. Especially as my best friend is standing right in front of him, half naked and offering herself up on a plate.
Rachael frowns at me and then turns her attention back to Chris, continuing her seduction techniques. “I can be very tempting, Mr Mayer.” She purrs with a wink.
Chris pulls her arms from around his waist again. “I’m sure you can, but I need to get going. Another time though, eh?” He smiles down at her pouting face. “I’ve got stuff to do,” he chuckles and kisses her on the cheek, and then turns to leave. “See you Monday, Rachael. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around too, Mia. Hopefully another drink soon, eh?” He winks at me and leaves.
I don’t know who is more embarrassed by his brush-off, Rachael or me. She stomps over to the breakfast bar and sits down with an oomph. The silence sits around us awkwardly. Rachael is lost in her own thoughts, but her eyes watch me move around the kitchen constantly.
“Good night?” I ask, while I pour her a coffee with a grin and try to distract her from the uncomfortable atmosphere.
“Hmmmm.” She’s still lost in thought as she wraps her hands around the mug. I cook breakfast for the two of us, deciding to leave Oliver sleeping for now, and we tuck into bacon, eggs, toast, tomatoes—the works.
I ponder last night, and my thoughts guiltily stray to Mr Breckt. How strong his arms had felt wrapped around me, and I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Oliver hadn’t come in when he did. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that last train of thought.
I love Oliver, I truly do. He’s my life, my soul, he’s my everything, and I can’t wait for us to get married and share our life together. But there’s just something about Mr Breckt. I can’t explain how I feel when he’s around. It’s as if I’m drawn to him and everything and everyone is just irrelevant when he is there. I feel awful about how I feel. I know it’s wrong but I can’t help but wonder how long I can fight my feelings. If I love Oliver so much, then how can I feel like this over another man—someone who’s practically a stranger to me? I shudder. Then realise that Rachael is staring at me.
My eyes swim back into focus. “What?”
“You,” she says flatly.
“Me? What about me?” I ask with confusion.
I can see her pondering on her words for a moment before answering. “Nothing. Are you not going to eat the rest of that?” She huffs and then nods at my plate. I realise I’ve hardly eaten a thing. My hunger has subsided after only a few bites and I push the plate away.
“Yeah, I’m done.”
She widens her eyes at me but takes my plate and demolishes the lot.
“You worked up an appetite last night then, I guess.” I laugh and she looks up smugly from wiping the toast around in the tomato juice left on the plate.
“Yep, you can say that again.”
I take her plate over to the sink. “You sure you know what you’re doing with him though, sweetie?” I turn the taps on and begin to fill the sink with water, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible whilst I let my words settle. I don’t like Chris, I’ve decided.
“Yes, I’m sure. Why do you say that?”
“No reason. Well…he seems lovely, I just think, I don’t know, Rach. It’s just I’ve seen you with guys like him before. I just think he’s a bit of a player if I’m honest, and well…I don’t want to see you get hurt.” I hear her sharp intake of breath and feel guilty.
“Well, he’s not a player, Mia!” she snaps. “I think he might even be the one,” she giggles nervously, and I spin to look at her.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Rach, you only met him yesterday,” I choke.
“So, what does it matter when I met him? When you know, you know. We had a connection. He even took me to see his employer.” She stands defiantly with her hands on her hips.
I look at her in confusion. “How very romantic of him!” Sarcasm drips from me.
“It was, actually,” she scowls at me. “It’s only the same as you and lover boy.”
“Rach, sweetie, this is nothing like me and Oliver, and you know it.”
I laugh aloud as she stamps her foot at me. “It is so the same.” Tears brim in her eyes.
I stare wide-eyed. “Rachael . . .” I don’t know how to continue with the sentence that I’ve begun. Tact isn’t one of my strong points, and I fumble with my words as I watch her face getting angrier with me.
“You know, Mia, this goody two-shoes act is getting pretty old with me. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at him.” Rachael turns on her heel and stomps off to her room like a moody teenager.
She shouts back to me. “You’re not the only one who can fall in love you know, Mia.” And she slams her door behind her.
I stand frozen to the spot, unsure of what has just happened. The sink overflows behind me and I turn to it as the water cascades to the floor.
“Damn it,” I curse, turning off the taps.
/> Oliver comes down the hallway in just his boxer shorts. His hair is messy as he scratches his chin and looks at me with those big brown eyes of his. He glances with confusion to Rachael’s room as he passes.
“I think she’s crying,” he states with a yawn, pulling his hands through his hair. My face goes red from holding back my own tears.
“Well it’s not my fault.” Now I feel like stamping my foot.
“What’s up with you?” His eyes widen as he notices the water on the floor. “What happened there?” He looks at my face; my bottom lip is trembling furiously.
“What did I miss, babe?” He comes around the counter and wraps his arms around me. Last night’s situation floats away from us, and even though I know it’s stupid, I can’t help but cry.
When I pull away, I feel Oliver tense around me before releasing me, as if he doesn’t want to let me go.
“I’ve no idea what’s gotten into her. I’ve no idea what I’m crying for and the sink over flowed because I left the tap running because I’m an idiot and a goody two-shoes, apparently!” I wail the last part and start crying all over again, and he holds me tight. I’m pretty sure I feel him chuckle as he kisses the top of my head, but I don’t care as I relinquish myself to my self-pity and cry louder.
*
We decide to go out for the day: a drive down to the beach with a little picnic. The time alone together will do us good and the weather is lovely today. I’m hoping the time away from the pressures of work and friends will help clear the air between us. Perhaps even stop my wayward thoughts of Mr Breckt. We’re meant to be going out tonight with Caitlyn and Will, but there’s still some tension that we could do with clearing before we go out.
We stop by Mum and Dad’s coffee shop to pick up our supplies on the way. I smile and give Mum a quick hug, waving a hello to Dad through the serving hatch as Oliver goes to speak to him. It’s hot in here today—even the windows are steamy—but that hasn’t stopped the place from filling up with customers, I notice with a smile.
“So, what can I do for you?” Mum asks whilst making coffee. I fill her in on our plans for the day. “Sounds great. Well you two kids help yourself to what you need, and when you see that sister of yours tonight, tell her to give your father and me a call. We hardly ever see her anymore since she moved up to the city.” She misses Caitlyn; she’s the older of us, but she’s still mum’s baby.
Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1) Page 185