“As my punishment, I had to clean up my mother’s garden and maintain it flawlessly for six months. By the time my sentence ended, I’d found I really enjoyed it. I chose this apartment in part because of the roof access. It’s all mine and since it’s taller than most of the nearby buildings, it’s incredibly private despite being surrounded by millions of other people. The previous owners had just put some patio furniture out here, but I transformed it over the last few years into a place that I think my mother would’ve loved.”
Oliver had no idea why he kept rambling on about the garden and his love for it. He’d never told this story to anyone, and yet Lucy’s simple question had prompted a flow of words that even he hadn’t expected. He didn’t understand why she had this effect on him. There wasn’t just an attraction between them, there was more. A real connection that he wanted to build and maintain beyond this nonsense about the will. That was the scariest part of all.
“Are there still places to sit up here?” Lucy asked as she leaned in to smell a large, dark red rose.
That was one of his favorites—the Mister Lincoln rose. It gave off an amazing perfume in addition to being a beautiful, classic, crimson rose. “Yes. If we follow the path around, we’ll see the pergola where I’ve put up some furniture.”
They walked along the trail lined with rosebushes, gardenias and zinnias, to the trumpet vine-wrapped pergola on the south side of the building. It framed the best view from the roof, showcasing the ever-changing colors of the top of the Empire State Building. Under the pergola was a double chaise lounge that was perfect for sunbathing, naps or working evenings on the laptop with a glass of wine or scotch and ice.
“Wow,” Lucy said. With the giddy grin of a child, she kicked off her heels and lay against the raised back of the chaise. She tugged up her dress to expose the cropped pants underneath and wiggled her pink painted toes in their newfound freedom. “This is amazing. I would spend every minute I had out here if I could.”
Oliver smiled and settled onto the seat beside her. She’d jumped into the chaise without giving a second thought to getting her designer dress dirty and he appreciated that. “I don’t spend much time just sitting here, actually. Maintaining the garden takes up most of my free time since I do it all myself. If I’m out here, I’m pulling weeds and repotting plants. Trimming back bushes and watering. It’s a lot of work but it helps me keep my mind off of my worries.”
Lucy sighed and snuggled against his shoulder as she took a sip of her wine. Oliver felt the heat of her body sink through the fabric of his tuxedo shirt and warm his skin. The feel of her so close made his pulse speed up. Suddenly, he had the urge to rip off his bowtie and tug her into his lap. He wasn’t going to rush things tonight, though. There was no need to not take their time and enjoy it.
“And to think,” Lucy said, “I assumed you were just some heartless workaholic with nothing better to do with your limited free time than screw with me.”
That made him laugh out loud, chasing away his heated thoughts for a moment. Lucy just said whatever came to her mind and he loved that about her. There wasn’t anything practiced or polished about her words. It was authentic and refreshing, even when it was mildly insulting.
“Well, I am a heartless workaholic, but I have plenty of things I could do with my limited free time. I simply chose to spend the time screwing with you because I...” Oliver turned his head toward her with his lips nearly pressing against her temple. “I like you, Lucy. More than I ever thought I would. Probably more than I should, if I were smart. But I can’t help it. And I can’t help wanting you.”
* * *
Lucy was stunned to silence. It was one thing to say that they’d called a truce on their war over Alice’s estate. It was another thing entirely for him to declare he wanted her while they were alone on a romantic rooftop patio. That was serious. That was the kind of statement that led to action.
So action is the course she took.
She set her glass of wine and small beaded black clutch on the table beside them and shifted onto her side to face him. His expression was different as he looked down at her in the glow of the garden’s lights. The hard edge of his jaw seemed softer, the sharp glare of his blue eyes warm instead. Welcoming. And not just with need, although she could sense the tension of desire in the press of his lips into one another. There was something about being here, in this place that was so special to him, that had changed him or at least shown her a side of him she didn’t know existed. She liked that part of Oliver. Liked him enough to throw the last of her reservations out the window where he was concerned.
“Sometimes the things we want aren’t the smartest choices,” she said softly. “But they’re the chances you’re the most likely to regret not taking. I hate having regrets.”
Lucy followed her words by leaning in and kissing him. This was no desperate assault like their first kiss on the Dempsey balcony, but a sultry warm-up to something more. She melted into him as she felt his hands seek out her waist and pull her closer. His mouth parted and his tongue slid past her own. The caress sent a surge down her spine, making her skin prickle with goose bumps and her core throb with need.
She never expected to be here, in a place like this, with a man like Oliver. Despite her desire to make more of herself one day, she never wanted it to be because she dated up on the social ladder. Even though being friends with women like Emma and Violet exposed her to plenty of sexy, successful men, she didn’t think for a moment they would be interested in her.
But Oliver was definitely interested.
His hands moved over her body, exploring and caressing each curve and hollow like he was trying to commit it to memory. When his fingertips brushed over the bare curve of her back and waist, she shivered from the sizzling heat of his hand against her skin.
“Are you cold?” He whispered the question against her lips. “Your skin is freezing. We can go back inside.”
“I’m not cold. You’re just hot.” In more ways than one, she thought silently. “And I like it.”
“Oh really?” He smiled and gripped firmly at her hip. “Then I think you’ll like this, too.”
Lucy let out a soft squeal of surprise as Oliver pulled her into his lap with a firm tug, guiding her to straddle him on the chaise. The position was much more comfortable than lying side by side and allowed her free access to his body with her hands. She ran her palms over his chest with a naughty grin, feeling the hard muscles beneath the starched fabric of his shirt. “You’re right. I like this as well. I’d like it better with some of this fabric out of the way.”
She moved quickly to his tie and the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t resist, he just closed his eyes and tensed his jaw as her hips slowly moved back and forth, teasing at his rock-hard arousal.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.
His response to her made Lucy bolder. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, she pushed it open and ran her hands across the golden bronze ridges of his chest. He wasn’t a soft, pale businessman who spent all his time indoors in front of a computer. Apparently gardening was hard work that he did without his shirt on and she appreciated that.
He lay mostly motionless with his eyes still closed as she admired the gift she’d just unwrapped. Her fingers traced the edges of his muscles, grazing over his sprinkle of dark chest hair and trailing the path it made down his belly to his belt. She could feel his stomach quiver beneath her touch as she moved lower.
Oliver could only tolerate that for so long, it seemed; as his eyes flew open, he reached out to cup Lucy’s face and pulled her mouth to his own. There was an edge of frenzy when he kissed her this time, the slow, sensual kiss from earlier harder to maintain as the tension built between them. She didn’t mind. She gave as good as she got, touching him and pressing into his caresses to intensify the pleasurable feelings that they sent through her body.
Lucy only felt a momen
t of nerves as Oliver’s fingers unfastened the strip of red fabric that held on her dress. There was nothing beneath it but the black cropped pants that paired with the open-backed gown, so she would be fully exposed. She didn’t want to act nervous, however. She didn’t want Oliver to know how long it had been since she’d been with a man or how badly she didn’t want to screw tonight up. So instead, she pasted on her most seductive expression—at least that was what she was going for—and let the gown slip down her arms to pool with the rest of it bunched up at his waist.
She bit at her lip as Oliver studied her bare chest with appreciation. She held her breath until he brought his hands up to cover her breasts and knead them gently. He groaned aloud with approval as she leaned into his touch.
Oliver let go of her only long enough to tug the fabric of her discarded dress into a ball and cast it to the vacant side of the chaise. That allowed them to get closer, and he took advantage of that by sitting up, wrapping his arms around her waist and capturing one of her hard, pink nipples in his mouth.
Lucy’s head went back with a soft cry she couldn’t hold in. For a moment, she looked around, expecting to feel exposed somehow, but the garden was incredibly private. She could shout, cry and remove every stitch of clothing she had on without anyone being the wiser. It was an unexpected turn-on, titillating the inner exhibitionist she didn’t know she had.
She clutched the back of his head with her hands, burying her fingers in the thick waves of his chestnut hair and holding him close. She was so caught up in the moment, the feel of his lips on her skin, that she didn’t realize she was moving backward until her skin made contact with the chaise.
Now Oliver was on top with Lucy’s legs clamped around his narrow hips. He held himself up with his arms planted to each side of her as he looked down with a satisfied smirk. Pressing forward, he rubbed his firm desire between her thighs. The sensation shot through her like a fiery arrow despite the pesky pants they both still had on. Not for long.
Oliver placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then continued down her body. One on her chin, each collarbone, her sternum, each breast, her stomach...stopping when he reached her capris. Those were quickly unzipped and pulled down her hips along with the lace hipster panties she was wearing beneath them. For every few inches of skin he uncovered, he placed another kiss on her skin. Each hipbone, her lower belly, the tops and inside of her thighs, knees, calves, ankles.
And then she was naked. Totally and completely exposed, panting and trembling with the overwhelming sensations he was stirring inside of her. She ached for him to touch her center, to fill her with the hard heat he’d teased her with so far. But instead, he stopped moving altogether.
Lucy opened her eyes to see him kneeling between her legs with an almost painful expression lining his face. “What’s wrong?” No woman wanted to finally take off all her clothes and have the guy freeze up like that.
“I don’t have anything,” he explained with a sheepish look. “Protection, I mean. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting this to happen. Especially not up here. It’s not an excuse not to wear anything. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. I was just wrapped up in you...and now you’re naked and so beautiful and I...”
Lucy smiled and leaned over to reach for her purse sitting on the table. There, she pulled out the duo of condoms she carried for emergencies. She’d never had an emergency in all the years leading up to now, but she knew better than to not be prepared. That was when bad decisions happened. “Here,” she said, holding up the foil packets and saving him from the torture he was leveraging on himself.
Oliver took them from her, clutched them in his fist and grinned. “You’re amazing. Thank God.”
He leaned down and kissed her with a renewed surge of energy. Oliver pulled away for a few moments and when he returned to her, the pants were gone, the latex was in place and he was poised between her thighs. “Now,” he said with a grin as he looked down at her. “Where were we?”
Lucy reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his length. He groaned as she rubbed the tip of him against her moist flesh, teasing them both to the point of madness, then positioning him just at her opening. “Right about here is a good place to pick up, I think.”
“You’re right,” he agreed before pushing forward into her warmth. He moved at an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every inch until he was buried deep inside of her.
Lucy gasped at the sensation of being so completely filled after all the years she’d gone without it. She suddenly wondered why she’d allowed herself to become so much like her agoraphobic older client while only in her twenties, but at the same time, she wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything. If five years of celibacy earned her a payoff like this, it was worth it.
It was as though he was the perfect key for her lock. Everything from the way he touched her, to how he kissed her, the taste of his skin, to the scent of his cologne, couldn’t have been more right. And when he started to move, the floodgates opened deep inside of her.
She clung to his back, gasping and crying out to the inky black sky overhead as Oliver thrust into her. They rocked together on the chaise, their movements more frantic and their muscles growing more tense as the pleasure started to build up between them.
“You feel so amazing,” he growled into her ear. “I don’t ever want this to end.”
Lucy couldn’t respond. She was past the point of rational thought with her climax barreling closer with every surge. All she could manage was a steady chorus of encouraging yeses. Yes, keep doing that. Yes, I don’t want it to end. Yes, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Yes, yes, yes.
That’s when it finally happened. Like a tightly wound coil inside her body giving way, her orgasm exploded through her. It pulsated through her core, radiating to every limb and making her head swim with pleasure. Her hips bucked against his, forcing him in deeper as her muscles tightened around him. The combination sent Oliver over the edge a moment later. He thrust hard, finishing with a low groan of satisfaction.
They lay together that way—weak muscles, throbbing parts and harsh, panting breaths—for what seemed like an hour, but it was only minutes. Too exhausted to move far but content in each other’s arms, they finally untangled and righted themselves on the chaise to snuggle up together. Lucy nuzzled into the crook of his arm and molded to his side. Oliver tugged her voluminous red gown over them to shield their bare bodies from the night air and they fell asleep there under the ever-glowing Manhattan sky.
Eight
Making love to Lucy was amazing, but Oliver found he quite liked just talking to her as well. After a short nap on the rooftop, they got chilly, gathered their clothes and moved downstairs to his bed. There, he made love to her again, but instead of being sleepy, they were energized with conversation. They’d managed to lie in bed talking to the wee hours of the morning. He could tell she was getting tired, but like a stubborn toddler, not willing to give in to sleep quite yet.
“Harper and I are taking the train up to Connecticut next weekend,” Lucy said.
“A fun girls trip?” Oliver asked.
“Something like that. Do you have any plans? Maybe we can do something when I get back.”
Oliver picked up his phone from the nightstand to check his calendar. He would be lost without it. “Yep. I’m taking Danny to Coney Island. He’s finally tall enough to ride the roller coaster and he’s been pestering me for weeks.”
“Who’s Danny?”
Oliver frowned. Not at Lucy, but at the fact that he hadn’t mentioned his brother to her in all this time. He supposed the focus of their discussions hadn’t really been on his family aside from Aunt Alice. “Hasn’t Harper ever mentioned our little brother?”
“Oh,” Lucy said, the pieces almost visibly coming together in her mind. “Yes, she has, she just never uses his real name. She calls him Noodle for som
e reason. I honestly had no idea his real name was Danny.”
At that, Oliver had to laugh. “His name is Daniel Royce Drake after my grandfather and my stepmother’s favorite car, respectively. Harper has called him Noodle almost since the day he was born but has never told me why. Do you know?”
Lucy shook her head. “She’s never said, and I guess I didn’t ask. She just mentions doing things with Noodle or posts pictures with him on Snapchat every now and then. I have to admit, that’s quite a nickname to grow up with.”
Oliver shrugged it off. “I’m sure he’ll be in therapy for far more serious things than a cutesy nickname his older sister gave him.”
“Why would you say something like that? That’s awful.” Lucy frowned at him, wrinkling her freckled nose.
“It’s true.” Oliver’s brow furrowed as he studied Lucy. Was it possible she didn’t know the strange and sad tale of Thomas and Candace Drake? Surely Harper had mentioned it. She had just started at Yale when their father began dating Candace. Or perhaps Alice said something. Just because she didn’t leave her apartment didn’t mean she didn’t know exactly what was going on in the family at all times. Or maybe Alice didn’t know. At least to the full extent. Their father may not have wanted to admit he’d squandered his fortune on a beautiful woman.
“What could a little rich boy possibly have go wrong in his life to necessitate counseling?”
Only people without money would think that life was easy if you had it. Yes, the necessities of life were no longer a worry, but it came with a whole new set of troubles. Women like Candace being one of them.
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