“No, it’s not and I don’t agree with any of it.” He wraps his arms around me, and I sink into his embrace. When Oliver has me in his hold, it is easy to believe I can tackle the world—or, at least, Linda. I draw on his strength, staring up in his gaze. “But I know my father would want me to be kind to her. He’d hope that his family would treat her with respect, regardless of whether we’re afforded the same courtesy.”
He kisses the top of my head. “You are a far better person than I am.”
That statement is so untrue. Oliver is an amazing man who does things for others without any hope of reciprocation. He has a huge heart and I am falling hard for him.
He moves and winces a little. Oh, damn. “Oliver! Shit. I didn’t even ask. How was the doctor?” I ask, remembering that I haven’t mentioned it.
“Fine. They did some blood work and routine tests. She said she’ll call me this week with the results.”
“For a pulled muscle?”
“She doesn’t think it’s that. She said it’s most likely just an infection.”
I tilt my head, not having such a good feeling about that. “What kind of infection?”
Oliver sighs. “It’s not a big deal. She didn't seem concerned and put me on antibiotics. I’ll be good in a few days.”
Relief floods me. “Okay. Good. I’m glad you went.”
He sways a little, a grin painting his lips. “She also said I have no restrictions.”
“All men are the same.”
“Not all.”
“No, not all, but when it comes to that . . .”
“Hey, I just wanted to inform you of what the doctor said. I didn’t say anything else. It’s your mind that’s in the gutter.”
I laugh, which is something I haven’t done much of since I got here. “Maybe it is, Mr. Parkerson.”
“I’m not complaining.”
My finger grazes the skin right below his neck. “As soon as my aunt gets here, we can go to our hotel.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Where I know you’ll find a very inventive way to make me forget all about the hell I’m currently in.”
Oliver tilts my head up. “I will. I’ll make you forget everything other than my name.”
I can’t fucking wait.
There’s not much in terms of luxury in this town, but the hotel is ten minutes from my dad’s place, is clean, and has breakfast, so it works. I put my uncles and aunts in a rental house where they can all have their own rooms and it didn’t cost a fortune. Plus, they can cook and drink wine without having to squeeze in a room.
Of course, my uncle John had to point out there was a bedroom for me and Oliver, which led to them all ganging up on me on why I needed privacy.
Once inside the room, it feels like our wedding night all over again. There’s this strange tension in the air. We both know what’s going to happen, but we’re being cautious.
I smile at him, and he grabs my wrist as I pass. His blue eyes are filled with an unnamed emotion.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s stupid, but . . . your uncle made a joke about your ring, and he’s right.”
“Right about what?”
“You should have an engagement ring.”
I’m only wearing the plain gold band that matches Oliver’s.
“Oliver, I don’t need one. A ring doesn’t show love or commitment, I would know.” I try to ease his mind.
“It’s more that . . . if we had dated and I had the opportunity to do all this the right way, I would’ve gone to your dad, gotten his permission, and bought you something that you’d be proud to wear.”
I smile softly, resting my palm on his cheek with my free hand. “We didn’t do things that way, though. We did it our way, and I am perfectly happy without a diamond. One day, if things are different and we can do this the right way, then, yeah, I’d love a ring that you picked out.”
He sighs heavily, pulling me closer. “One day, huh?”
I want that one day to come, but not now. Not because we were thrust into this relationship that became a marriage. “You’ll know when it’s right.”
And so will I, but for that to happen, I’m going to have to fix this so we can start over and do it the right way. I want Oliver to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I want him. I care about him, need him, crave him, and it’s not because we’re already married.
I would choose this man every day of the week and not think twice.
“You know it’s crazy, right?”
“What?”
“That we’re here. That I feel this . . .”
“This what?” I ask, my heart pounding out of rhythm.
His eyes are swimming with an emotion I can’t name. “Strong.”
“I feel it too.”
I lift up, pressing my lips to his. All the pain and struggles from today disappear as his tongue delves past my lips.
We hold on to each other, giving and taking each other’s struggles. Oliver lies back, taking me with him. “I want all of you, Maren. The good, the bad, all the parts that you’ve kept to yourself. All of it, I want . . . fuck, I swore I’d never feel this again.”
I felt the same way. Afraid of what would happen if I trusted someone with my heart again. This time, I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to.
“It’s different for me.”
His big hands push the hair back off my face. “How?”
“I want to give all of it to you. I’ve never wanted to do that before. No one has ever made me want to take that chance before. My heart is yours, Oliver. The good, the bad, the entire thing is all yours.”
He kisses me again, and I pour my emotions into kissing him back. His hands skim down my back, gripping my shirt before releasing it. We move together, pulling at the barrier of cloth between us. One by one, items go flying to the floor until we’re naked, and I feel more vulnerable than ever before.
This time is different.
It feels like . . . love, not just sex.
Oliver lays next to me, staring into my eyes before his finger moves from my throat to my breast. He slowly circles my nipple, our gazes locked the entire time.
“You’re so beautiful. So soft, sweet, and fucking perfect. I could stare at you all night and never get tired of the view.”
I blush, unable to help it. “I don’t feel beautiful.”
In fact, I’m a damn mess. My hair is in a two-day-old ponytail, my makeup is nonexistent, I forgot to pack my contacts, so I’m wearing my glasses, and I’m splotchy.
Emotionally and physically.
“I don’t think you could be anything but beautiful.” He shifts down my body. “I don’t think I could ever look at you and not want you.”
“I feel the same.”
“I made you a promise,” he says as his lips press against my belly.
“You did.”
“Do you remember it?”
“I’m pretty sure it was about forgetting . . .”
He grins and then goes lower, pushing my legs apart. “It was indeed. Do you want to forget, sweetheart?”
“Not everything.”