A Chance for Us (Willow Creek Valley Book 4) Page 14

  “You’re sure about this?” he asks, his hands going behind my back, pressing our bare chests together.

  “I know I want you. I want this. I want to figure out whatever this is between us.”

  He rubs his thumb against my lower lip. “And then we walk away.”

  I make a soft moaning noise as I kiss his neck, unable to stop myself.

  “Say the words, Maren.”

  I look into his deep blue eyes. “Then we walk away.”

  Oliver’s smirk is cocky and sexy at the same time. “That’s if you can walk when I’m done with you.”

  “Do your worst,” I toss back.

  “Challenge accepted.”

  I don’t have time to draw a breath before he has me flat on the bed. I squirm, but he pulls me closer. His lips are on mine in another searing kiss before he moves down to my chest. His hands are everywhere, touching, kneading, squeezing, and caressing. It’s sensory overload, but also heavenly.

  His lips trail to my breast, where he kisses and licks around the tip before taking my nipple in his mouth. I cry out, hips bucking off the bed as he sucks greedily. His tongue moves back and forth, flicking it before I feel his teeth nip the delicate skin.

  “Oh, God!” I cry out as his hand moves down my body before slipping under my borrowed shorts. When he finds no fabric underneath, he groans.

  “Fuck, Maren. You’re not wearing underwear?”

  “I . . . I don’t usually.”

  “So, you have none packed?”

  I shrug a little. “Not really.”

  “Thank the Lord above.”

  He tears the shorts off my legs and throws them across the room.

  I don’t have so much as a moment to feel exposed before he’s kissing me again, tasting his way down my stomach before going lower. “I’ve wanted to do this for days now.”

  “Days?” I ask.

  “Weeks, if I’m being honest. Since I saw you again, I’ve wanted to touch you. Then there was that kiss. By yesterday, I thought I might go insane. There you stood in that white dress, so beautiful, smiling at me as if I were some goddamn hero.”

  I press my hand to his cheek. “You are my hero.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You have no idea how I feel about you.”

  Honestly, I have no idea how I feel. I’m conflicted because I shouldn’t feel anything. I should be nursing a broken heart, not dreaming of Oliver’s touch and mouth and what promises to be a very nice dick.

  So, yeah, I don’t know what this means because it’s all crazy.

  “Why don’t you tell me.” His voice is low and husky.

  “I can’t.”

  “Maybe you just need incentive.” He moves lower, pushing my legs apart. “You talk and I’ll lick. If you stop . . . well, I might stop as well.”

  “Oliver,” I say, needing him so much. “Please.”

  “Please what, sweetheart?”

  I turn my head to meet his gaze. “I need you.”

  “And I need to do this, so I suggest you start telling me how you feel.”

  I groan because this is not going to go my way. I mean, it is a little, but . . . I can’t think and talk while he does . . . oh, God.

  Oliver’s hot tongue slides against my clit, and I grip the sheets.

  “I want to taste you, Maren. I want to make you come on my tongue, so give us what we both want,” he commands.

  “I like you. I like how you make me feel,” I say quickly while I have some of my wits.

  He rewards me again with his mouth. Oliver moves back and forth over the bundle of nerves, sending heat all through my veins.

  “You’re selfless.”

  “Selfless?” he asks and then flicks me again. “I am clearly getting so much more than I bargained for.”

  “We both are,” I say before a long moan falls from my lips. God, he’s good at this.

  As he licks, sucks, flicks, I keep talking. “You make me feel alive. You give me hope that there is more to love than I thought there was. I want you so much, and I don’t know what to do,” I admit, no longer sure if I’m speaking aloud. My orgasm is building so fast the words are a tumble of incoherence in my brain. “God, Oliver, what is happening? Why do I want you like this? Why do I need you?”

  He doesn’t stop, and each second that passes, I’m driven closer to the edge.

  “I want you so much. I want this to keep going, and I want you . . . all of you.”

  My back lifts off the bed as it becomes too much. My orgasm rockets through me, causing me to call out his name and forcing him to hold my legs down so he doesn’t have to stop.

  After what feels like an eternity, the pulsing slows and he crawls up my body, turning my face to his. He reaches over, grabs a condom, and slides it on before returning to me. With his arms braced on either side of my head, his cock pushes toward my entrance. “This is going to complicate things.”

  I smile a little. “I think we’ve blurred all the lines already.”

  “I think so too.” He pushes into me and freezes. “But this one . . .”

  “This one—” I gasp, holding on to him.

  “This one I’m going to erase.”

  For the next hour, we obliterate every line ever drawn, and I don’t even care.

  “That was . . .” Oliver says, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Yeah.”

  It was so much. It was amazing and beautiful, and now I’m pretty sure I’m going to panic. We had sex. Oliver, my friend from college and my best friend’s ex, and I just had sex.

  Not weird. Nope. Not at all. We’re consenting adults who just happen to have done the horizontal tango.

  I need my notebook and time to jot down all my pros and cons. I have to think about what it means and why and where and . . . oh, here it comes—the freak out.

  “Are you okay?” Oliver asks, turning onto his side to face me.

  “I’m good.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I look him in the eyes and vow to fake being okay until I can work through the options. “I will be. I just need to think.”

  “Isn’t that the opposite of what helps?”

  I shrug. “For most people, but I generally need to see something from all angles before making a choice. I don’t usually rush into anything.”

  His brow lifts. “Really?”

  Okay. I deserve that, but the last week and a half is nothing like my normal life.

  “I am an analyst. The word alone should tell you what I do.”

  “I get that, but where in this did you think through asking me to marry you?”

  “Well, while that was a bit rash, I promise I thought through the options, and it seemed like the best path to the desired outcome.”

  He grins. “I like this outcome so far.”

  “I do too.”

  “So, we’re okay?”

  I would love to say yes right away but can’t. “Can you hand me that notepad?”

  His brows crinkle, but he leans over, grabbing the small notepad and pen from his side table.

  “Thank you,” I say. “I need a second.”

  Oliver nods slowly. “I’ll wait.”

  I think it through quickly, jotting things down in the order they enter my brain.

  Feelings. That’s definitely a concern. I feel more than I thought I would, more than I knew was possible. It’s so strange and intense and fast that it scares me. However, I’m able to shut those emotions down. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.

  Sex. That’s a pro because what we just had was fantastic.

  Marriage. We’re married, and that’s a pro and a con. Pro because it happened to make others happy. Con because we weren’t supposed to actually be married.

  Friendship. That one is tricky. We’re friends, and I’d like to still be friends at the end of this. Not sure where this one falls. More of the outcome.

  Honesty. Oliver and I were very clear about being nothing more than some amazing sex for fi
ve days, and at the end, we walk away as friends.

  I put the paper down and smile at him. “We’re okay. I think us being honest about our expectations made it easier.”

  He leans in, pressing his lips to my forehead before pulling me against him. “I’m thinking this is the kind of marriage every couple should have.”

  I laugh a little and lift my eyes to meet his. “How is that?”

  “Two people who are friends, can talk about things, keep their hearts out of it, trust each other not to hurt the other, and have really fucking great sex.”

  I lay my head back down, thinking that it’s exactly what I wrote on that paper. “We definitely have that.”

  At least, all but the heart part. That one, I think I’ve lost a little.

  Nineteen

  MAREN

  Oliver and I pried ourselves out of bed to say goodbye to my father and Linda before they headed out, then Ollie stayed downstairs to take care of some work things while I came back to the room to repack our bags for us.

  There’s a knock, and I smile, thinking Oliver must’ve left his key.

  “Hey, did you . . .” I trail off when I see Devney waiting. “You’re not Oliver.”

  “I definitely am not, but why do you look sad about that?”

  “Nope, not sad at all. I just thought it was him.”

  “We’re heading out in a few. Sean wants to get the kids home in time for them to get a good night’s sleep before we return to life tomorrow.”

  I give her a big hug, loving that I had this time with her. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Devney smiles. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Thank you for everything. I really can’t repay you.”

  “Please, it’s what best friends do. While I may not agree with your psychotic breakdown, I do understand it. Seeing your dad yesterday was really special, and I think it’s something that you and him can cherish for the rest of your lives.”

  There’s no denying that. Even when my father is gone from this earth, I’ll be able to remember that walk we took, the love in his eyes, and the ease he felt believing I was married.

  It’s all a lie, but it’s a good one as far as lies go.

  “I know I’ll never forget it. I have so much to fill you in on. But,” I say, remembering the surprise I got last night. “I’ll never forgive you for the repacking job you did.”

  She grins. “You’re welcome.”

  “I wasn’t thanking you.”

  “But you will later.”

  “Come in, I need to finish.” I walk back into the room and head to my bag.

  “Ahh, you’re packing.”

  I purse my lips as I stare at her. “Yeah, about that. Seriously, I don’t know why you thought I would need sexy lingerie for a honeymoon where we had no plans of anything.”

  Had being the word of the day here. Now I have plans. Lots of naked plans.

  She’s quiet as her eyes start to move around the room, taking in details as they jump from the bags to the bed.

  The very rumpled bed with sheets that are barely hanging on and the pillows that have fallen to the floor. The gym shorts on the floor, and Oliver’s shirt thrown over the lamp.

  “Maren?”

  Crap.

  “Yes?”

  Her eyes find mine, and she gasps. “Oh my God! You had sex with Oliver!”

  “Will you be quiet?” I say quickly as I clamp my hand over her mouth. “The door is wide open.”

  She pulls it down. “You did?”

  “Yes, but it’s fine.”

  “Oh, this I have to hear.” Devney walks over to the couch and hesitates before sitting. “Is this spot safe, or are there questionable body fluids on it?”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  She shrugs, choosing not to sit. “I knew this would happen.”

  “You knew what?”

  “That you’d have sex with him,” she says while shaking her head. “I saw it the second you two were together in front of everyone. Oliver is not that good of a liar. You guys have feelings for each other, and last night . . . was inevitable.”

  She’s insane. We are only feeding off the emotions we have been forced to fake.

  “That’s not true. But things have changed.”

  “How so?”

  I sigh. “Well, we had the whole wedding, and afterward, my dad asked to go with us to sign the marriage license.”

  “No!” She covers her mouth with her hands.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you sign it?”

  I nod. “What option did we have?”

  “Okay, that’s true. But . . . well, it’s fine if you don’t file it, right?”

  “That’s what we think, but Mark is going to look into it just to be sure.”

  “You know,” Devney says, taking my hands in hers. “This is kind of brilliant. You signed the papers. Everyone thinks it’s real and you love each other. If you can void the whole thing by conveniently forgetting to file the paperwork, then when you guys decide to”—she lifts her fingers in air quotes—“get divorced, you won’t actually have to do anything. It can be a clean break.”

  I never even considered that. “You’re right.”

  “I am, but that doesn’t change the fact that you and Oliver had dirty sex on your wedding night.”

  Of all the conversations in the world I thought I’d ever have, this isn’t one. Nothing about this weekend has gone to plan. Having the wedding, the groom, and then this morning has been a complete mind fuck, and I can’t make sense of it yet.

  Honestly, I don’t really want to overthink this. I want to enjoy it.

  “Maybe not, but we’re both adults, and we’re fully aware that it’s nothing but sex.”

  “Oh. Sure. What you should say is that you’ve figured out a way to rationalize the feelings and dismiss them.”

  “I am not rationalizing anything.”

  She scoffs. “Please. You’re the queen of it. It’s what landed you in this situation to begin with, Mare. You were going to marry the other guy because of your dad, and you rationalized that it was worth it even though you didn’t love your ex. Now, you have the feelings you didn’t have—”

  “I don’t!”

  “—for the other guy, and you’re again, making excuses.”

  “Devney, listen to me,” I say through gritted teeth. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t think you do, and that’s what has you so messed up. Honestly, when it comes to love, we’re all stupid, irrational, and contradictory, just like you’re being. You say you don’t have feelings for him, but here you are, smiling like a fool.”

  “I have this under control.”

  I don’t. We both know it. I have a million reasons I shouldn’t go with him. I should head home, the office, my father’s house, or anywhere but to Myrtle Beach with Oliver.

  “I hope so. I know how amazing Oliver is. We didn’t end things because he wasn’t a great guy or treated me poorly. I actually don’t know many people who are as good or as wonderful as that man. He let me go to give me the life I was too afraid to reach for, and I will always love and respect him for that. Not a day goes by where Sean and I don’t appreciate the gesture, and I really hate the idea that he might get hurt by this. He doesn’t deserve it.”

  The last thing I want to do is hurt him.

  “I would never hurt Oliver, not after everything he did for me.”

  “Then I wish you luck.”

  “For what?”

  She grins. “For keeping yourself from falling in love with him.” She taps me on the nose and then leaves the room.

  We pull up to the house in South Carolina after the five-hour drive from Willow Creek Valley. Our trip was great. We laughed and talked about the funny moments over the week, discussed how to handle things until we figure out the status of our fake marriage, and enjoyed the drive. I loved passing through the small towns and feeling lighter than I have since this whole thing started.

  The
house is beautiful and sits on the beach just outside Myrtle Beach. It has nine bedrooms, a private pool, and a jacuzzi. Obviously, it’s way more than we need, but it’s free, so I’m not going to complain.

  “Should I carry you over the threshold?” Oliver asks.

  “If you want me to beat you with your own arms.”

  He laughs. “Let’s go in.”

  I don’t know why I’ve been standing at this door as though something will change if I go inside. The easy air of friendship we’ve had has been great, but when we walk through those doors, it’s our honeymoon. It’s sex and nothing to distract me from Oliver. I won’t be able to hide behind friends and family.

  “Maren?”

  I turn, my back against the door. “I don’t want this to stop.”

  “What?”

  “The way we are now.”

  “Okay . . .”

  He’s looking at me like I’m crazy again, but I need to get this out.

  “I need definitions.”

  “For words or something else?”

  I drop my gaze to my feet as nerves assault me. “No. For us. I know we said things this morning, but I don’t know . . . I need to know exactly what this is. What we are. What we feel. If I know that, then I can be prepared. I need that, Oliver.”

  He blinks a few times. “All right. Once again, you stun me.”

  “I’m good at that.”

  “Clearly.”

  I smile and let out a long sigh. “I told you that I like to know what’s coming whenever I can, that’s all.”

  “I get it—kind of.”

  I’m a headcase, but it’s necessary here. I have to keep my feelings in check, and for that to happen, there needs to be lines drawn. “Okay, maybe we don’t need a definition as much as we need boundaries. Parameters to work inside of. Like, we have sex once a day.”

  “I don’t like that idea.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Hell no. I would like to carry you inside that house and already be halfway undressed with my hands all over you. So, no, I think sex once a day is a terrible rule.”

  My heartbeat spikes because I want what he just offered, but I shake my head to come back to myself. “It can’t be a free-for-all.”

  “Why not?”