Page 85 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

“Oliver.”

“Mmm?” His voice is heavy with want.

“No more, okay?” I kiss his cheek and grab the condom. “That feels way too good.”

“I don’t mind making you feel good,” he replies. “In fact, that’s exactly what I want to do.”

Is it possible for something to be both incredibly sexy and incredibly endearing? Because my body and my heart are battling it out for which one is falling harder for Oliver right now.

“There’s the charm,” I grin. I let him continue, shattering around his fingers in all of 15 seconds. “Now?” I ask when I catch my breath.

“Absolutely,” he agrees.

Let me tell you, there’s never been a better feeling than having Oliver between my thighs, lying over me and pressing kiss after kiss to my lips. His hard lines plus my curves plus this mattress is the formula for ecstasy, I’m pretty sure. With every push of his hips, every quickening of my breath, every moment I catch him looking at me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful, I’m creeping closer to losing myself forever.

In the end, when neither of us can take it anymore, he drags my hands above my head and laces his fingers through mine, then leans down for the best kiss of my life. And then we lose ourselves completely in each other. It’s an explosive conclusion to the most unexpected evening I’ve ever had.

Afterwards, he wraps his arms around me and draws me to his chest. I lay my head against his beating heart.

“Sorry about the food,” I say at last.

He chuckles. “I promise, I was fine with the alternative.”

“Are you hungry, though?”

I’ve been oblivious to the sounds of the storm thanks to our romp, but I hear the wind thrashing the sides of the house again. I don’t want him to leave. Because of the weather, and because I want to fall asleep wrapped in his arms.

“I could eat,” he agrees. “We won’t be able to cook anything, though.”

“Are you okay with sandwiches? That’s all Laurel and I have been eating recently, anyway.”

“Sure.” Oliver stands up and slips my sweatpants back on, then reaches for my hand. I throw my hoodie over my head and accept it.

“Right this way,” I tell him. And we walk hand in hand to the kitchen.

twenty-three

An hour later, we’re laughing over a delightful dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oliver’s been regaling me with stories of hilarious customers he’s helped over the years at Shoreline. Like the woman looking for a cookbook with only potato recipes, or the man who came in every day for a year to read romance novels aloud to himself in the café, but never bought anything.

“I wish I could have seen that,” I say of the latter customer.

“Hang around long enough, and I’m sure you’ll meet lots of people just as ridiculous.”

His words hover in the air between us, pulling me down from the cloud I’ve been sitting on since we kissed in the bookstore earlier. Because I won’t be here much longer. And with every passing moment, that’s killing me a little bit more.

“I can imagine,” I finally answer.

Oliver sweeps his eyes over my face as if reading my thoughts. “Any movement on the job search?”

I shake my head quickly. “Not a peep.” I’d spent some time last Sunday applying to more jobs on Laurel’s laptop while she FaceTimed with her parents, but so far, I haven’t heard anything back.

He tucks my hair behind my ear with the ease of a long-time partner. “You could always stay here, you know.”

There’s a lump in my throat, because I know he’s right. Maisie did say she’d need more help for the fall, and given what’s happening with her knee, I suspect she may be even more desperate than she previously expected.

But I can’t uproot my life for a guy. Imagine if I’d done that with Kyle. Moved away from my family, the place where I grew up, only to have my heart ripped from my chest, my every work day mired with humiliation. I’d be stuck in a new place with nothing but the grief and trauma he left behind.

Not that Oliver would ever do something like sleep with our mutual coworker. There isn’t even a parallel in this scenario, since our only colleague is Maisie, who is not only our boss, but is also about 40 years Oliver’s senior. Regardless, I doubt he’d stoop so low.