by Ash Harlow
“You’re still dressed.”
I suddenly felt self-conscious. It was one thing for us both to be naked in the throes or afterglow of hot sex but it felt weird, stripping off in front of him to try on the lingerie he’d picked out for me.
“I can read body language, too, Darcy. You’re nervous. Don’t be. I want to see you in this. It’ll be like wrapping a gift to myself. One I’m going to take great pleasure in unwrapping later tonight.”
When he put it like that, how could I refuse him? I kicked off my shoes and shrugged my way out of the fitted knit dress. In comparison the underwear I wore, that looked fine this morning, was dull. Oliver had my new panties in his hand and he looked me directly in the eye with a wicked gleam as he bit the sales tag off and passed them to me.
“Change,” he said.
I was changing, little by little. I dropped my panties and pulled the new ones on, pleased that he was half-distracted by removing the bra swing-tags which were giving his teeth a little more trouble.
The low-rise panties were soft pink with an all over lace trim. From the back, the coverage was minimal beyond a corset-inspired lace-up panel. The matching bra, of course, was a push-up giving me a cleavage even I was impressed with. The garter belt matched so that it appeared the lacing continued from the panties all the way up.
I stood in front of the mirror and stared. The entire ensemble was stunning.
“Fuck.”
“Really, Oliver, such profanity,” I teased, even though I agreed with him.
“Seriously, Darcy. Not much more comes to mind beyond Fuck!”
I did a twirl and stopped facing the mirror again. The lingerie made me feel very sexy, almost light-headed, and I had to look again.
“You can’t wear those tonight. I’ll be hard all evening. Not cool when I’m supposed to be presenting a professional business image. Wear your old stuff.”
I stalked across the room to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. “Uh-uh, I’m wearing this.” I pressed myself against him. “And if you find yourself in any bother I shall have to get on my knees under the table and blow you for relief.”
“Not helping. I’ll need my memory of this little moment erased before we arrive at the function.”
“Then I shall whisper sweet reminders in your ear, probably when you’re talking to a government minister. This might be fun after all.”
“Matched only by the fun I shall have punishing you when we return. Pick a dress.”
I hoped he was joking but his face gave nothing away. “How did you know my dress size?” I asked. There were four to choose from, each one as glamorous as the other.
“I peeked at the tags of your underwear.”
They were wash-worn and faded, but of course, I had fit Annabelle’s clothes. Obviously he’d done this sort of thing for her, too. That dart of jealousy carried a surprisingly nasty sting.
I tried each dress, modelling them for Oliver and enjoying the opportunity to be admired and told how sexy I was. In the end I chose a cream figure-hugging sheath that had a pattern interwoven through the cloth, with the finest gold thread, like the mottled bark of an old tree. It caught the light without being sparkly and until you were up close, you really couldn’t tell what was causing the reflection of light. It hugged me and plunged to the small of my back. A clever criss-cross of narrow straps below my shoulder blades meant I could still wear my new underwear and enjoy a bit of bust enhancement for a change. The front showed off my cleavage without revealing too much.
I felt elegant and beautiful and the confidence boost it gave me would do something toward making up for the price tag.
“We’ll pack up the others. I plan to find many opportunities for you to wear them.”
This was a fairytale I was certain would blow up in my face. Either my handsome prince would be revealed as a frog, or I would become the blemish on his fine skin.
“Doubts, Darcy?”
Good god, the man read me well. “I’m overwhelmed, again, Oliver. It’s…” I spread my arms, “I feel unworthy.”
Oliver’s mouth tightened, and he didn’t try to talk me off my ledge of insecurity.
“Turn around, I’ll unzip you. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and get ready? I’ve got a couple of things to attend to,” he said, his voice flat.
I felt dismissed and amazed I’d managed to wreck the fairytale with such ease. With Rob I was accustomed to appeasing any change of mood, hopeful that I could be the one to fix things rather than have him go out looking for something to fix himself. In the end that strategy stopped working. But I was determined not to be that pathetic victim again. Conditioned as I was, I turned away from Oliver and felt the cool draft across my back as my gown fell from my shoulders.
His soft lips pressed at the nape of my neck surprised me.
“Accept it with grace, Darcy,” he murmured, then left the room.
14 ~ OLIVER
When Darcy said she felt unworthy, needles ran up my spine in a way I hadn’t felt since the day I overheard Annabelle’s phone conversation to my stepfather. Not feeling worthy was a line Annabelle trotted out regularly, along with other platitudes along the lines of: I was too good for her; she didn’t deserve me—all the little phrases designed to make me think she appreciated the little things I did for her. I wondered if it was a quirk of her nature or simply something my stepfather had schooled her in. A way to make her appear grateful and genuine.
It was all I could do to stay in the room to help Darcy out of her dress as those words echoed in my head. I was behaving like an idiot. It was a common enough line and I really wanted to believe that when it came from Darcy’s mouth, it was genuine. Still, it rattled me. Minutes after I walked out I heard the bath being filled and I decided to leave her to it. Earlier I’d have joined her but I was rattled. This wasn’t how Auckland was meant to go. Darcy was the one with issues here and my role was to help her get past them.
Darcy was not Annabelle.
No matter how Luther tried to convince me Darcy was my stepfather’s new attack using old tactics, I refused to believe it. For starters, I was certain Ant Alberini understood the adage about doing the same thing and expecting different results.
No. Any little coincidence with Darcy was just that—a coincidence.
I’d requested the fridge to be stocked so I filled an ice bucket, grabbed a bottle of champagne and a couple of flutes and headed toward the bathroom. Joining Darcy in the bath was out of the question now, but we might as well enjoy the Krug. If I didn’t get in there and restore things this trip to Auckland was going to be a bust.
With my hands full I had to use my elbow to open the bathroom door. Inside was a fragrant humid atmosphere of the particular bath salts I liked and, thankfully, Darcy hadn’t felt too unworthy to use them. Luther knew a woman in the Waitakere ranges who formulated them with a special blend of New Zealand bush flowers and essences. It wasn’t like either of us to be all New Age and crystals but this stuff was magic. A relaxant, energizer and aphrodisiac all rolled into one. If the producer wanted to market it she could name it Paradox.
And then there was Darcy.
She’d already washed her hair and it was pinned up on her head so that rivulets of water trickled across her temples, making me want to catch them with my tongue.
I ached to be in there soaking with her, but I still suffered from that niggling feeling about what she’d said, and if I climbed into that bath I’d be dismissing it. Since Annabelle, I’d promised myself not to dismiss anything that felt out of kilter. Anyway, if I bathed with Darcy, we’d be late. Very late.
I opened the champagne and poured two glasses. She took one and thanked me. I loved that for the moment, anyway, she took nothing for granted.
“Is everything okay?”
Her voice was soft, her skin flushed from the water.
“Sure, it is.” I tilted my glass in her direction. “Here’s to banishing your Auckland monsters.”
She almost
grimaced as she acknowledged the toast. She sipped her bubbles, and smiled. “Nice choice, Sackville. You’re spoiling me.”
“Let me spoil you more. Sit forward and I’ll wash your back.” I took my time, lathering my hands and running them over the curve of her shoulders, down the ridges of her spine and finally slipping them around to glide over her delicious breasts. Her nipples were hard and I thumbed them until her breathing changed, her mouth dropping open just that little bit that told me she was becoming very turned on.
She lay back, her legs bent, knees falling open. It was a blatant invitation.
“How you going here, princess?”
She responded with a breathy voice. “Good.”
Fuck, I loved the way she breathed her words when she was aroused, however I ignored the request of her lifting hips and continued squeezing her nipples. She eased her hand across her hip, down toward the trimmed line of pubic hair.
“Don’t touch.”
“Oliver.”
“Whining doesn’t suit you. I want you as hot and bothered tonight as I’m going to be watching you in that dress. Save it. It’ll make later so much better.”
I stood and placed my drink on the vanity, and stripped off for a shower. “The car will be here in half an hour.”
“Hell, I better get moving.”
I held up a bath towel for her, and she stepped toward me. We were both naked with only the towel between us and continuing to resist her calmed me in that I was back in control. I wrapped her tight in the towel, tucking the end in between her breasts before turning her and sending her from the bathroom “No touching, remember?”
She turned her head and poked her tongue out and somehow I resisted stealing a kiss. Self-control would do us both good.
The function was at an events center on the Viaduct not too far from the apartment. The taxi ride was short, and when Darcy complained that we could have walked rather than wasting money on a cab fare, I had to remind her of the color of her dress, the length, the heels she wore and the state she’d be in after a fifteen-minute stroll along the waterfront pavements. Her habits were certainly frugal—especially when compared with Annabelle who always had to keep pace with her entertainment industry buddies—and I hoped it wasn’t an act. I was tired of questioning her motives because she was special. The only thing I wanted propelling our relationship was our mutual attraction.
At the venue we were whisked to the less-crowded award nominees’ entranceway. I hadn’t been entirely honest with Darcy about the evening and she had no idea that we were attending the Trade and Enterprise Business Awards. I didn’t enjoy these functions and was worried Darcy might hate them more. Having her with me was intended to make the evening more than bearable.
We didn’t make it far through the entrance before we were stopped by people wanting to congratulate me on being nominated. It was a pretty big deal being from a small town and beating out some of the Auckland boatyards. Darcy, thankfully, waited until we reached our table before she questioned me.
“Business Awards, Oliver? Not exactly some dull T&E schmoozing function now, is it?”
“Forgive me. I didn’t think you’d agree to come if you knew what it was really about.”
“I’d go with you to the opening of a parking lot if it meant I was allowed to wear this dress.”
Her move, leaning close to my ear was innocent enough. She looked as though she was making herself heard over the background noise. But I’d make her pay for sticking her tongue in my ear before she backed off. I pulled at my mouth with my hand to stop myself grabbing her for a kiss.
“I love you in that dress, Darcy, but I intend to love you even more out of it.”
Our table was filling with other boating industry people. Being such a small country we simultaneously competed with each other, and helped each other out. Sometimes one boatyard was awarded a contract, the scale of which meant other boatyards contracted various skills to help. In the end, any time a large boat left the country after a successful and quality build did the entire industry a favor.
Darcy shone among the other women, not only because of her beauty but her ease in these situations. She understood perfectly how to handle the men, even the sleazy ones I’d have preferred to handle with a right hook. And she was perfect with the women, complimenting them, never trying to outclass them or worse, appear bored the way Annabelle used to.
Every day there were more things I discovered about Darcy that drove her closer to ideal in my eyes. In that sense, she terrified me.
“Darcy! What a surprise to see you here.”
Darcy spun to look at the woman who’d spoken from behind me and I turned, too. This was my first opportunity to see her in action with somebody from her past. I’d never seen anyone’s face turn to stone before but when Darcy offered a fake smile, the mortar holding her expression together almost cracked apart.
15 ~ DARCY
Auckland was a pinprick on a global scale and I knew it would be all but impossible to attend a business function of this type and not run into someone I knew. If it happened, my hope was that it wouldn’t be someone who had taken any interest in me once I’d left for Australia. When we arrived I’d been nervous, sneaking glances around the room but seeing nobody I knew, I’d begun to relax and enjoy myself.
Until Deidre.
Of all people, it had to be Deidre—the very last person whose world I wanted to be the center of.
I spun in my chair and tried to stand in the hope that if we had to talk I could carefully steer her away from our table. Unfortunately, Oliver turned too and when I glanced at him I could see he was waiting for an introduction.
I stood.
Oliver stood.
Shit.
I introduced them, then body-blocked Oliver and set about maneuvering Deidre across the room.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your awful bad luck in Australia, Darcy. Losing a position like that at Prism must have been heartbreaking.”
What a liar. The sympathy was so fake I was surprised a thunderbolt hadn’t struck her where she stood in that stunning dress with perfect accessories and killer shoes. I would have been envious had I not for once been better attired myself. When it came to Deidre, my playground anxieties always rose to the forefront.
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad.” I flicked my hand dismissively.
“Really? Because I heard Rob—”
I grabbed her elbow in a way that would encourage her to start walking or suffer a dislocated shoulder. “Whatever you heard about me, Deidre, will contain as much truth as what I heard about you. Now, it’s just a matter of who tells their story first.”
My bluff was a winning call because she blanched, turned her back on me and headed for an empty seat three tables away.
For a moment I wondered what Deidre had been up to before I returned to Oliver, hoping that would be my only encounter with my previous life. Unfortunately, the look on Oliver’s face suggested none of that exchange had slipped by him.
“Is everything okay, Darcy?” His voice was measured.
“Sure,” I said, desperate to grab a sip of wine but fully aware of how that would appear.
“Tell me what your friend alluded to that got you so rattled.”
I wasn’t going to lie. I liked Oliver too much for that, and liked what we had going together even more. Dangerously more. I took that sip of wine as I gathered my wits, trying to work out how much information to give him.
I placed my glass down, twirling it by the stem. “It wasn’t what she alluded to that rattled me, more the fact that she’s the most gossipy bitch in town and I’m not setting myself up to be the hot topic in a Viaduct bar tonight. Add to that, her closest friend writes what could loosely be called the society column for a certain trashy Sunday paper. Neither of them let the truth get in the way of their work.”
“Fine, and what was she alluding to?”
I took another sip of wine. “She must have heard about the fire when I lived in Sydney,
with my ex-boyfriend. The house we were renting caught fire and it was razed; everything gone. He’d told me he had paid the insurance, but he hadn’t. So, I lost everything, including our relationship which didn’t survive the aftermath.”
Oliver shook his head. “That’s fucking horrendous. I’m sorry, that must have been devastating.”
I shrugged. “It’s only possessions, but it’s taking a bit to get back on my feet. I’ll be fine.” I wouldn’t be fine. The landlord’s insurance company was about to sue me for the cost of rebuilding the house. I’d probably be bankrupt before I was fine. More shame for me. Thank you, Rob.
“Deidre would be a supreme bitch if she intended to gossip about your misfortune.”
The intensity of the concern in his gaze unnerved me because I didn’t deserve it. There was so much about me he didn’t know and above all else, I didn’t want to hurt him. I should have kept our relationship professional from the start, but his allure held me like a hungry addict. I promised myself just one more inhale, one more lick, one more taste of him, and then I’d let him go.
I could have hugged the guy who was our waiter for the evening for turning up with our meals right while I was chasing down an appropriate response within the myriad of knee-jerk and brush-off ideas pounding through my head. I hated lying, whether intentionally misleading, or by omission. I’d lived on the receiving end of that for too long. Oliver deserved my honesty but already I was leaving stuff out and loathing myself for it.
I struggled to eat. Like at most large events the meal suffered from mass production and although the menu appeared appetizing, the result was tired and dry. I poked the food around my plate, unable to shake off my anxiety. The room was too full and I was still sneaking glances at the other tables, recognizing people but so far, nobody more alarming than Deidre.
Oliver leaned over to whisper in my ear that we could forget the food and get a meal later, taking the opportunity to tongue that sweet spot right behind my lobe and send a shiver through me.