Sexy Hart (Sexy Series) (26 page)

“Yeah, I’ll give her a call later or something, after I’ve made my new Mrs. something for lunch.”

“Is it lunch time? I’m so confused. why do I feel like I should be eating dinner?”

Oliver laughs. “I don’t know, I feel messed up as well. All I know is
, we have to stay awake all day long, so that means food, chatter and lots of preoccupying activity.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun! But if you’re thinking of sex… we’ll have to be careful, you know how easy it is to fall asleep after that!”

“Oh yes… you’re a wise woman. Maybe we should limit ourselves. Once when we get in… once before bed. What do you reckon?

“I reckon that sounds spot on.”

We make it to my maisonette in Watford very quickly and he comes in with me to check everything is how I left it. It’s not unusual for the neighbours to see Oliver over here so I’m still feeling relaxed. He stands, leaning against the archway of my bedroom door as I gather up some things. “Your bed looks very inviting,” he says, smiling.

“It does,” I take my eyes off the job for a moment to eye up my
cosy looking king, “but I hate to break bad news; I really want a shower before we do anything like that; I want to wash aeroplane off me, so my bed is just going to have to torture us with those enticing pillows until we leave.”

He sighs and
pouts like I’ve spoilt all of his fun and it makes me wants to kiss his face off. Deliciously cheeky man.

It only takes about ten minutes to do everything at my place and before we know it, we’re back in the car, on our way to Rickmansworth. Oliver’s house is about five minutes drive from work - in traffic, and just around the corner from Emily and Edward. It’s a lovely Victorian semi-detached property and as one would expect from someone in the property development and building business, the interior is exquisite.

As we pull onto his gravel driveway in his large car, he switches off the engine and puts his hands on his thighs for a moment, looking at me.

“We’re here,” he whispers, stating the obvious.

I giggle, “I know.”

His broad smile puts flutters in my belly. “So…”

“…so? So let’s go in?” I ask, expectantly.

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s a big deal for me to go into my house with you.”

I frown, confused. “Why? You’ve gone into your house with me loads of times.”

He rolls his eyes and smiles shyly… adorably. “I know that. I mean…
with
you. Being with you; together with you; in a relationship with you. You know… oh my god, Clare, do I have to spell it out?
Married
to you!”

“Oh! I see!”

“Yes! And it seems odd that we’re married, but this is still my house and you still have yours. Don’t you think? I feel like we should be walking into ‘
our
’ house right now.”

“Ol, we got married in Vegas with no prior warning. We’ve never even been a couple. It’s hardly surprising this situation isn’t exactly ‘normal’.”

“I know, but still… I’d like to give you
something
traditional.”

“Please don’t, I don’t want traditional. That’s not what we’re about. I want everything you’re giving me already, exactly how it is. We’ll have ‘our’ house one day, I’m sure - won’t we?”

“Definitely. In the meantime, I’m going to pretend you live here with me until you have to go back to your flat.”

I giggle. “Okay. Well I’m hungry and would really like a hot shower, so can we go in now?”

“‘Of course, m’lady,” he says, opening his door and stepping out of the car. I’m not short, but it’s more of a climb for me.

He takes the cases out of the boot and I grab my handbag and overnight bag full of work clothes, and follow him to the front door.

“Would you like me to carry you over the threshold?” he asks as he puts the key in the lock.

“Aw, no thank you, Oliver, let’s keep it unconventional - you just carry the cases over the threshold - it means the same kind of thing… sort of, they are my belongings after all.”

He laughs and ushers me inside as he lifts the cases and follows me. Once he has deposited them in the hallway and closed the door, he steps over to me and clutches my face in his hands. “Kiss me, gorgeous girl.” So of course, I do.

We manage not to get too carried away, although I do experience an intense case of the goose bumps and butterflies when I slip my hands around his waist to fully enjoy his tender attention. “Would you like a
cuppa, darling?” he asks, huskily, running his hands up and down my neck and shoulders.

“I would love one, thank you. Shall I go up and have a quick shower?”

“No, have some tea with me and then we’ll go up together with the bags.”

“Okay.”

I love that he wants us to be together. I slip my shoes off and wriggle my toes against his soft, thick carpet as I follow him to the kitchen. I
adore
his house, especially the kitchen; it’s large and modern, but he hasn’t gone overboard with it, it’s definitely in keeping with the age and style of the house.

I do as I always do here and sit up on the kitchen island while he fills the kettle. I pick up the substantial stack of post that his mum has left on the counter for him. “Wow, Ol, you’ve got a lot to go through here, are you going straight back to work tomorrow?”

He puts the kettle back on it’s cradle and flicks it on before turning to look at the pile I’m holding. “I’m not sure… are you?” he asks with a mischievous smirk, standing in front of me, wiggling his hips against my knees until I open up to let him in, probably thinking about my lack of underwear just as much as I am. He tugs the post out of my hand and drops it back on the counter and moves his hands to hold my waist, pulling me against him so I wrap my legs around his thighs.

I rest my arms up on his shoulders, my hands dangling behind his head, and I lean forward to peck his lips. “I was hoping to, yeah… do you think I’ll be too tired?”

“Much,” he says quickly, kissing me again.

‘I’m being serious, naughty boy, I need to get back and check the new orders and stuff.”

He sighs loudly and bows his head. “Okay, if you can manage it, I’ll go to work, too. Spoilsport.”

“Hey!” I cry, swatting his shoulder. “Don’t be mean, I’d love to stay here with you all day but I have a business to run and I need to get back as soon as I can. I miss it, too; my little shop.”

“I know you do, darling, I’m only teasing. If I don’t have any trouble getting up, I’ll go in, too.”

He breaks away when the kettle is finished boiling and he makes the tea while I inspect his fridge. “Oh, yum, Oliver…” I say, opening the doors and practically stepping inside his gigantic refrigerator, “your mum has done well! There’s loads of my
faves in here!”

“That’s because your
faves are my faves. And of course my mum did well, she’s the best. If we walk around the house right now, I bet we’ll find loads of mum touches everywhere. How many bunches of flowers do you reckon she’s put around the place?”

I laugh, understanding what he’s talking about because that’s exactly what Emily Hart is like. She loves to make sure things are perfect for her two babies, and if they go anywhere, she’ll always check on the house and fill it up with goodies, flowers and candles for their return. She even did it for Tilly and I once when we went away and accepted her offer to check on the place while we were gone. I wonder if she’ll stop all that now that Oliver has a wife… I hope not. “I’d say… a bunch in the lounge, one in the dining room… oh look! One on the island!” I point to the stunning display of carnations, roses and gerberas in whites, yellows and bright oranges.

“See? Best mum ever. You know I never buy flowers for the house, but they do look good. It’s just not that…
blokey
, to buy yourself flowers, is it?”

“I suppose not, really, but we’re doing things differently now, so maybe you should start.” I close the fridge and step closer to him as he holds out my tea, and I take it.

“Maybe… or maybe I’ll just by them for my new wife instead…”

“Ooh,” I giggle, excitedly, “very few people have ever bought me flowers, so I’ll like that!”

“Okay, flowers for the wife it is.”

Oliver suggests we take our tea upstairs and get the shower running while we relax for a minute or two, so we head on up, Oliver collecting my overnight bag and handbag on his way. The house is immaculate and smells gorgeous… kind of like that smell of new carpet mixed with something alpine-like.
Fresh and clean.

As we approach his bedroom, I spot that gorgeously sexy bed of his… simple, plain white linens
; all very expensive-looking and inviting. His solid, wooden sleigh bed is like something you’d find in the plushest of plush hotels and I can’t wait to curl up atop that perfectly firm, memory-foam mattress.

Oliver releases my bags on the bench beneath the window and immediately sits on his bed, putting his tea down on the table and resting back with his feet up. He lays his hands on his hard tummy and closes his eyes, sighing loudly. “Ah… this is heaven. Come and join me my gorgeous.” He pats the mattress next to him, so I slip into the en-suite and step inside his huge, glass shower to switch it on, and then return to the bedroom to rest next to him, and - my god, when I do; it’s
more
than heaven.

“What did you do?” he asks, his eyes still closed.

“Just turned the shower on.”

“Uh huh, I bet that was easy, look how fast you turn me on,” he says, opening his eyes to look at me, his hand clutching his hard erection through his jeans.

“Oh!” I laugh, not expecting it. “We better do something about it then…” I add, followed by a clench or two down below at the sight of his masculinity. 

“What did you have in mind?” he asks, turning towards me, his head resting on his hand on the pillows.

“Um… shower sex?”

“Could do… I like showering with you… Or?”

“Or?! I don’t know… er… bed sex?”

“What kind?”

“Yikes… um… missionary bed sex? Me-on-top bed sex? Bent over bed sex?”

“How about… bent over shower sex?”

Ooh.
My hips rotate of their own accord in excitement and I subconsciously lick my lips. “Mmm, ‘kay.”

“Mmm… good.” He moves over until he’s pressed up against me and he slides my skirt up my legs. “I noticed you didn’t put any new knickers on at your flat…”

“No,” I whisper, “you like that?”

“I like it now that we’re alone, yeah… I couldn't stop thinking about it in the car.” He strokes my tidy pubic hair and lightly runs his fingers lower without caressing anything overly sensitive, teasing me.”

“I want you,” he whispers, kissing just under my jaw, eliciting a loud moan deep in my throat.

Suddenly feeling naughty again; he seems to have this effect on me - I grab his wrist in both of my hands, pulling it away from my regions and I lift it to my face where I slip two of his fingers inside my mouth, sliding my tongue around them smoothly, and sucking seductively.

I moan lustfully, feeling the vibration of the noise against his fingers and he immediately follows with a deeper, sexier, gravelly groan.
Will we even make it to the shower?
I’m so ready… I always am where he’s concerned.

“Come on, darling - bathroom. I can’t wait anymore.”

I release his fingers and climb off the bed, eagerly, slipping my skirt down my legs and letting my cardigan fall from my shoulders on the way. Oliver tugs his t-shirt over his head, impatiently, and unbuckles his jeans, kicking his shoes off by the bed.

As I get into the steamy, warm bathroom, I pull my top
off, unclip my bra and turn to see Oliver striding towards me, totally naked and gorgeous with a rock-hard erection to make even the least sexual person whimper in need. He walks me backwards to the vanity unit, one hand on the side of my jaw, the other on my bare buttock, and presses himself against me so I can feel every inch of his perfection. He remains pressed against me as he pulls open a drawer next to us and takes out a condom, making light work of unwrapping it and slipping it on.

“You… naked… here…” he says, shaking his head subtly, “I love it.” He kisses me in a passionately raw and deprived manner, but it’s still so immensely romantic and tender. He manages to capture the love in an erotic situation and bring it to the forefront, releasing it upon us both until we’re lost in this realm of infatuation and enchantment and devotion.

“Forget the shower,” I cry, finally able to make some noise with him, “do it now, fuck me now… make love to me, now. Please.”

He moans a noise resembling a
cry, a desperate whimper and I turn in his arms, scooping my hair over one shoulder, inviting him to kiss my neck as we make love. I bend forwards slightly, over the sink unit, and I watch in the mirror at his face, looking down, concentrating on what I’ve put on display for him.

“Clare,” he growls as if I’ve done something wicked and
am about to get into big, bad trouble.

“Uh huh, take it, Oliver, it’s yours, I’m yours… love me.”