Love in Fantasy (Skeleton Key) (28 page)

The car rolls to a stop in front of Oliver’s gorgeous house. I’m always in awe of it, ever since the moment he first brought me here, it felt like home. The door opens and I see Oliver.

Warning: Core overheating. Nuclear meltdown imminent.

My man is seriously fucking hot. H.O.T—
HOT!
He’s wearing a black t-shirt that stretches over his muscled chest and biceps, boot cut jeans, and flip-flops, like me. I lick my lips at the delicious sight; I could eat him from head to toe. I take a step forward and am grateful I brought an extra pair of panties because the ones I’m wearing are already soaked.

He meets me halfway down the steps and gathers me up into his arms, lifting me off of my feet, and kisses me senseless. Relief floods through me, knowing he still wants my body, but I can’t help wondering if he still wants to marry me. “I’m so happy you’re here, baby,” he mumbles against my lips. What little was left of me that hadn’t already melted is now molten lava.

“Um, me too.” I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I blush. He pulls back and seems to drink in the sight of me, as though he is desperately thirsty. There is a lightness about him I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. It’s sexy as hell.

He sets me down and takes my hand, gently guiding me up the steps. “I have a surprise for you,” he announces. I can hear the excitement in his voice and it sets my tummy aflutter again. We enter the house, and he keeps walking until we reach the big, beautiful kitchen.
I can’t wait to bake in here.
Um, that’s new. I hate to cook. I look around. Okay, I’d cook in this kitchen. Especially if it was
my
kitchen.

There are three wicker baskets on one of the two large islands in the center of the room. Oliver hands me the smallest one, and takes the others, then he smiles brightly and lifts his chin towards the back door, encouraging me to go out. Once we are outside, I stop to lift my face to the afternoon sun and enjoy the soft breeze. Opening my eyes, I scan the property. It really is gorgeous here.

“Get a move on, baby. We don’t have all day and I’ve got a lot of plans for you.”

A shiver rolls down my spine and it has nothing to do with the wind. In fact, it’s gotten quite warm in the last two minutes. “Lead the way.”

He walks us down to the lake I remember seeing when he first gave me a tour of the house and lands. It’s surprisingly clear and the neatly trimmed grass is soft, tempting me to remove my sandals and wiggle my toes in it. So, I do. Oliver laughs when he notices what I’m doing and winks at me.

Oliver sets the baskets down and lifts one, pulling out a thick quilt and spreading it over the ground. A gigantic smile bursts onto my face. “A picnic?”

He glances at me and nods, seeming extremely satisfied with my expression. “I thought this was better than a stuffy, formal meal. Now get your sweet, little ass over here and help me get the food out. I’m starving.”

I practically skip the rest of the way to the blanket and plop down, opening my basket to see what’s inside. By the time it’s all laid out, I realize it’s a feast of my favorite foods. So far, I rate this as the best date ever. Oliver’s cache of brownie points is overflowing.

We spend the next couple of hours sitting side by side and munching on the fabulous spread of dishes and treats. We talk about all of the things we love and he asks how my current project is going. I wrinkle my nose. “I’m having a rough time with this one. I’m eons past my deadline and the story simply won’t quit. Every time I think it’s done, there is a little bit more.”

From there, he begins to quiz and question all about my process, the business, etc. Not once do I detect a smidgen of boredom or a lack of interest in what I’m talking about. I know I’m about to regret my decision, but it’s only fair, so I ask about his work, as well.

This is when I eat crow. More so than I’ve already eaten, considering my eleven engaged or married sisters. He’s telling me about various projects and I had no idea his business encompassed such a vast array of departments. Some of the goals they are working towards could change the world and not only am I fascinated, but I’m also so proud of Oliver. I hope our kids have his smarts. And looks. And, well, everything that is Oliver.

He checks his watch and looks at me. “Are you ready to pack it in? I have some other things planned, but if you want to stay, we’ll do whatever makes you happy.”

If words could get you pregnant, I’d probably be having triplets. Oliver Hudson is a walking advertisement for sex. Scratch that. Oliver is walking sex, period. And, I can’t wait for the lifetime of experiences that await me by spending forever with him. “You went through all this trouble; I’d like to do whatever it is you have in mind.”

Oliver grips me around the waist and lifts, I land square in his lap, facing him, with my legs spread on either side of his. He rubs his nose with mine in an Eskimo kiss and I can’t stop the sigh that falls from my lips. “Baby, nothing I do for you is trouble,” he rumbles, his voice low and serious. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Pippa? I love you and I’ll do whatever it takes to have you. Anything and everything it requires, I’ll do happily if, at the end of the day, I have you.”

My nose stings and my throat gets scratchy as I fight the tears welling up inside me. I don’t deserve him, but I’m keeping him.

Celibacy is a four letter word.

I take a deep breath and open the door to the office I created for Pippa. Theoretically, I know she’ll love it, but the nerves creep in anyway. I mentally pat myself on the back for the picnic, though. She’d loved it, and after I made it very clear that she is the most important person in my life, we made out like teenagers for about a half hour. She didn’t admit she loved me—yet. But, I am determined to hear it before the night is over.

We’d packed up and brought everything back to the house and I’d tied a blindfold over her face, telling her I had another surprise. She giggled adorably the whole time I was leading her to this room. “Okay, baby. You can take off the blindfold,” I whisper from right behind her, my hands on her hips, holding her close. She whips the silk sash over her head and gasps. I set my chin on her shoulder and grin. “What do you think?”

“Is—is this for me?” she asks hesitantly.

“Of course it’s for you, baby. I don’t think this office would help my image with my clients.” My voice becomes husky and dark as I say, “Of course, I do intend to make very good use of that desk. I made sure it was nice and sturdy when I bought it.”

Pippa spins, breaking my hold and throwing her arms around my neck. “I love it!” Her mouth lands firmly on mine and I bask in her happiness. Her tongue traces the seam of my lips tentatively and I open my mouth with a groan, but don’t take control of the kiss, content to let her explore. She’s never kissed anyone but me (a good thing because I didn’t care for the idea of another person alive and knowing what it’s like to touch my Pippa) and I want her to know she can do what she wants with me, that her boldness pleases me.

Before long, I have to remind myself of the vow to wait until our wedding night. I need to get the hell away from this desk. Breaking apart from her, we both stand here, staring at each other, our hearts racing and it takes a monumental effort for me to look away.

“What—um—what do you want to do now?” she asks, still catching her breath.

Don’t go there, Oliver. Just don’t even go there.

I clear my throat, attempting to clear my head of all my dirty thoughts in the process. My throat is now empty. One out of two isn’t bad, I guess.

“I thought maybe we’d cuddle up in the theater room and watch a movie.” I mentally smack myself on the forehead.
This is just what you need, dickhead (and I do mean that literally), your girl pressed up against you, on a couch, in the dark. Real smart move there, stiff dick.
I’m not sure I can handle it.

But, when Pippa’s face lights up, I change my tune, because anything that put’s that look on her face is something I’m willing to do. I sweep her up into my arms and walk towards the back of the house where I’d turned an old parlor into a state of the art theater room. She laughs and shakes her head at me, but doesn’t try to get down. “I’ll even let you pick the movie,” I say with a quick kiss to her sweet lips.

Getting through the movie is a test of my will-power, and I think I’ve earned seven
A
plusses for this. As the credits roll on the action flick she picked out (Yes, I’m marrying the perfecting fucking woman), she yawns and stretches, her gorgeous breasts thrusting out, begging to be sucked on. Okay, time to move on to our regularly scheduled program and then get Pippa the fuck home before I drop my grade down to an
F
.

“Hey,” I say quietly, “you up for one more surprise?”

Pippa laughs, and the sound is like music to me, every note is different, but it’s the perfect symphony every time I hear it. “Oliver, if this day is any indication, I don’t think I’ll ever turn down your surprises.”

I grin and wink at her. “I’ll remember you said that.”

We walk hand in hand to the second floor of the house, where there is a large outdoor veranda. It’s a rectangular area that sits directly over the kitchen, with white rod iron rails around the edge, and it has several different arrangements of comfortable outdoor furniture. After settling Pippa on a love seat, I go about lighting a fire in the little pit in front of her.

She’s always had a sweet tooth and when I roll out a cart with all of the fixings for S’mores, I know I’ve scored another perfect grade. “Oliver, this is amazing.” She looks at me oddly. “Why haven’t we ever done any of this before?”

I shrug, feeling sheepish and trying to play it off with nonchalance. “I wanted to do these things in our home, with my fiancée or wife. You weren’t ready.” Sitting down next to her, I put a marshmallow on a long, metal roaster and hand it to her.

The corners of her mouth turn down. “But, I’m not either of those things.”

I sigh and give her a reproving look. “Do I need to remind you of the facts, baby?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. She looks a little confused and I enlighten her by repeating my words from the day we made the deal. “You’re going to be my wife and then I’m going to fuck my kid into you the minute we say I do. It simply is, Pippa. So stop fighting it.”

“Who said I’m fighting it anymore?” she asks quietly. The implications of her question hang thick and heavy in the air.

“Pippa?” I question, not sure what to think.

“Maybe if you asked me, instead of ordering me to marry you, you’d know how I feel about it.”

“But, you might say no,” I argue. I didn’t go through all of this so she could have the opportunity to decline. There is no way I am going to wake up the morning after tomorrow without my thoroughly fucked wife in bed with me. I wanted to spend tonight wooing her, but it was always going to have the same result. If only that jackass, Wilhelm, had stuck around to help.

“It’s a risk you take when you propose.” She looks away and sees her marshmallow has lit on fire. She blows it out and as I sit here contemplating her words; she starts to put her treat together.

“Do you love me, Pippa?” I finally ask. The question seems to take her off guard, and she stares at me with an open mouth and frightened eyes. “Why does loving me scare you, baby?”

“Loving you isn’t what scares me, Oliver. It’s saying it out loud, giving you the knowledge that you have this much power over me. I want the choice to bind myself to you, not be shackled.”

My mind is so thoroughly in the gutter from wanting her all night and denying myself, that I almost miss the point of her comment, being stuck on the idea of silk binding and fur-lined shackles.
Down boy.
I promised I would do anything for her.

I ask her one more time, hoping we can reach a compromise. “Do you love me, Pippa? If you do, then I need you to trust me, to have faith in how I feel for you. That I love who you are and would never try to change you.”

She sniffles a little and a few tears slide down her cheeks. “Yes,” she says it so low that I almost miss it. I stay still and silent, hoping it will prompt her to say it again. “Yes, I love you, Oliver.”