Just to Have You (Blackwood & Friends #3)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ben: "Do you know what is better than having nothing to do? Having nothing to do with you."

(B & G conversation on active pursuits 11 years prior)

Oliver did win the bet much to his own detriment.

Amy considered his unconscious face gracelessly compressed against the soft pillow of in her bed, his spectacles askew as they sat precariously off-centre upon the bridge of his nose. Most of the welts from their inopportune tumble through the nettle had dissipated entirely, leaving his face mostly spotless par for an errant freckle here or there. Despite the ridiculous picture he presented, her heart warmed at the endearing sight of him. It was remarkably comfortable sprawled in bed with him, the intimacy of their embrace not lost on Amy in the slightest. Their legs tangled together under the coverlet, his arm slung heavily across her waist while she rested her head in the crook of his other arm's elbow. The coverlet was pulled low to reveal that he was bare-chested and she admired the faint scattering of light freckles across his shoulders that lessened as they tapered away down his back and front.

The world outside was stirring with the noises of morning and Amy knew she should rise, her mind summoned by the various tasks that needed completing before she met with Oliver and his friends again later that afternoon. But in that moment she could think of nothing more that she wanted to do than while away a few more minutes with the man beside her.

Until he expelled a sleepy breath directly against her face.

Hot, acrid fumes made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. She shifted in an attempt to dispel her precarious position but the movement enticed Oliver to rouse. A rumble of drowsy pleasure emanated from his chest as his arm banded tighter against her waist, drawing her flush against him. Her fingers splayed against the hard muscle of his chest, the heat from his body permeating every contour that it touched.

Blindly and sluggishly, his lips planted languid kisses against the top of her head, trailing down between her brows and the ridge of her nose, lingering over the tip-

"Eugh, Ben," Amy protested with a helpless giggle, "you are malodorous this morning!"

He paused his administrations, his brows shooting up high into his thickly tousled hair, though his eyes remained closed yet. "I-" his voice caught on the gravel evidently residing at the back of his throat and his incredulous expression turned into a frown. Oliver lurched up onto his elbow, effectively catching most if not all of her hair tangling in his wrist which snagged painfully and heralded a seething hiss of pain and discontent from her, and he coughed indelicately. "Something has died in my mouth," he rasped.

"I am aware!" Amy admonished, wrinkling her nose. Her hair was trapped none too gently where it had snagged with his fingers, therefore pinning her head to the pillow. She was imprisoned until he saw fit and clearly Oliver was preoccupied with the deteriorating state of his own hangover to be overly concerned with her predicament. Her voice caught his attention and his eyes drifted down to stare at her. Then he smiled.

Would she ever tire of simply looking at him? The man was a myriad of expressions and moods, all ultimately devastating to her sensibilities, and even now with dark circles under his eyes and a pillow crease imprinted along his cheek and temple, he was probably the most adorable specimen she'd ever beheld. Auburn hair stuck out at odd angles at the sides of his head and his verdant eyes were glassy with the remnants of his evening of indulgence, but while his glasses sat skew atop his nose and the sultriness of the smile that curved his lips upwards and almost inwards deeply grooved his unshaven cheeks, Amy couldn't think of a moment when he looked more delectable.