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.
"Do you know," he mused, his voice a low sonorous rasp, as both his arms curled around her once more, "I do not think I shall ever tire of waking up beside you." He rolled onto his back and hefted her with him, grunting unceremoniously at the unexpected resistance of her weight, but luckily Amy suspected what he was about and settled herself with consideration between his thighs lest she unman him.
"As sweet as you are, you smell quite vile," she told him as she gingerly settled against his chest. Remarkably solid, Oliver hardly flinched or showed any sign of discomfort or exertion at the position and the warmth of his hips pressed enticingly against the soft flesh of her abdomen.
"Don't fib. I smell like an apple orchard."
"Perhaps one in decay."
One brow raised cockily as he considered her down the length of his nose. The taut muscles in his shoulders bunched as he absently stroked the bare skin of her arms. "I suppose you believe you smell of roses and finery this morning? Need I remind you we spent the better half of the evening in that sodden orchard on the ground surrounded by rotting apples?"
Though it was true, he needn't make it sound so deplorable. Once the first evening of the festival had wound down and the joviality was sustained only by the few seeking further libation and a particular pair of noblemen, their small gathering had convened in the isolated, tree-lined passage of one of Mr Stuart's orchards. They had gathered a small basket laden with food and a considerable amount of poorly made cider for Jason and Oliver, who were so deep into their cups they were barely able to place one foot in front of the other and reposed under the stars and the limbs of an apple tree.
As it was, Oliver's friends were a rather rambunctious lot with little care for propriety in each other's familiar company, so it did not take long for Amy to feel unaccountably comfortable as she sat between his legs and reclined against his chest, much like she was now in her bed. It was from this position that she engaged in conversation, laughed with the rest of them, shouted and coaxed a rather indecent limerick from Jason, while Oliver's heartbeat murmured steadily against her back and his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to occasionally nuzzle her neck.
All the while the implied confession he had made but hours before lingered heavily on her mind, suffusing her with a giddiness, a profound and heady realisation that surged awkwardly against twinges of disbelief. How could Oliver Hollingsworth possibly love her? He was so... accomplished. Titled. Sophisticated and unbearably handsome. When she had comprised their little contract she had never deduced or hoped to believe that it could culminate in this level of ardent affection, least of all from him. It was her own heart she had been trying to protect, so sure that it was hers in jeopardy of being torn asunder by him.
Drawing her from her inner reflections, presently Oliver drew a finger down the line that had formed between her eyes as she frowned with the silent turmoil of her emotions. "It is remarkable how fast those thoughts of yours run away with you," he murmured teasingly, the pad of his thumb idly stroking along the cushion of her bottom lip. "You are quite expressive, you know. I never have to concern myself wondering whether you are angry with me or not- it will be writ plainly across your face for all to see."
Amy rolled her eyes and dropped her chin to the tops of her hands where they pressed against his sternum. There was a light sprinkling of dark russet hair that trailed up from his navel intent on tickling the underside of her jaw and neck. "I suppose I shall have much to be vexed about with you."
His smile was lopsided. "Only in the best of ways."
"I am not sure what that means."
"I could demonstrate if you like," he said wickedly, shifting his hips once pointedly so that the hard shaft of his erection pressed between their bodies rolled into her.
An eloquent stab of heat rippled through her and settled in her groin, quivering tight as she staved off the urge to clench her eyes closed with the sensation. "If you keep me in this bed a moment longer I will not be able to join you and the others this afternoon," Amy pointed out dryly, her lips curling into a soft grin that she couldn't help. She didn't really want to leave the bed anyway and would take the opportunity to spend more hours like this with him alone over some contrived engagement with their peers at Gravewood where she would have to at least try to behave appropriately and wear all her clothes.
"I am able to behave, though I hardly want to," Oliver quipped and brushed her dark curls from her face, tucking them behind her ears. "Beautiful girl, I'll only detain you as long as you need to tell me what is troubling that tireless mind of yours."
"Ugh." Amy ducked, dipped her forehead against the middle of his chest. His skin did smell and feel rather nice there and inevitably her lips found the teasing surface of a silken slope of muscle. How different the sensation of touching and feeling him was to all those years ago when she had done just that though only fleetingly. This burn and ache to be consumed by him, and in return devour him, was wholly new and curious. She was quite infatuated, constantly wondering about what it would be like to have him fill her again, craving his touch and his mouth, as if years of absence were culminating like heavily pregnant storm clouds, eager and waiting to burst at any moment-
"Please remind me to ask you to do whatever you are doing with your tongue right now again," Oliver said, his voice rumbling over a desire-laced groan, and carded his fingers into her hair to quell her administrations. Amy blushed, sure that she had been half-dazed with her own lustful musings to have not been in full awareness of her lascivious intentions. He caught her gaze, amused and thoroughly aroused, before cupping her cheek with one long-fingered hand in a gesture that was achingly tender. "Talk to me, Griff."
"Typical endeavour of the opposite sex. Men always want to talk about feelings all the time," she protested, wide-eyed.
"Very funny. But you are being evasive." A devilish look came over him then. "You'll pay for that little remark later."
"You know these little threats of yours have become quite a welcome feature in my day-to-day existence."
"Good." He brought one of her fingers up to his lips and nipped playfully at the tip, drawing her skin between straight teeth. "If you will not divulge your secrets, I shall have to guess. Are you worried that I am able to make you so wet with desire you'll saturate-"
"You're impossible!" The heat scalding her cheeks was almost unbearable and she threw him an irked look as she snatched her finger away from his nearby vicinity. Oliver merely chuckled darkly. "I worry about your confession last night, that it may be premature and... mistaken."
"Premature?"
Her brows folded with consternation and she quickly sought to soothe the discontent she witnessed darkening his expression. "I mean in terms of our courtship-"
"I have known you for twenty fucking years!"
"Exactly!" She huffed out a frustrated breath before running her hands across her troubled features. "I adore you, Ben, I do, but how can you be certain that what you are feeling is not merely the bond of our friendship and you have simply construed it as something other?" Amy made to shift her weight by anchoring the palms of her hands to either side of his flanks, propping herself upright in preparation to shift to allow for some space between them.
"Don't," Oliver said firmly, "move." His arms banded around her and pulled her back against his torso, cocooning her to him so that she was almost ensconced in his embrace. "You can work this out in my arms as well as you can beside me."
Despite her concerns, she had to fight back her self-deprecating amusement. There were not a lot of women who would be fortunate enough to find themselves in her position- in the arms of a highly affectionate and adoring future-earl, who was handsome and smelled rather nice most of the time, and had previously declared his love for them- yet she appeared quite resistant to the notion. She shook her head slightly, clearing wayward thoughts, before she settled carefully against him once more and folded her hands over each other, almost directly across his steady heartbeat, before dropping her chin to the top of her knuckles. "How can you be sure?" she asked momentarily.
His smile was simultaneously tender and arrogant. "It bothers you, doesn't it? Not being able to control this or catalogue it in some preordained little compartment in your mind," Oliver remarked and then his gaze warmed and his hands settled gently against the curves of her shoulders, his fingers moving soothingly against her through the material of her shift. "I love you, Amy Letitia Griffiths, and I will keep loving you, and I will keep saying I do, until you are able to locate that little compartment, or until you realise that you do not even need to."
Oh, dear. It hardly gave her a sufficient answer but it was enough to make her stare at him with moony eyed adoration before his fingers tightened and urged her further up his body. Carefully, she positioned her legs on either side of his hips, the coverlet falling off to pool over his thighs. She did not wait for him to initiate the kiss as she practically dropped atop him and crushed her lips against his. "I thought you said I was malodorous," he teased huskily against her mouth, skimming her skin with his fingers until his hands cupped her bottom.
"You're forgiven."
A muffled rumble of laughter followed the rasp of his tongue against the seam of her lips and she parted for him. She could scarcely conceive the reactions her body was pitching towards, all enticed and driven by the man under her. A shiver of raw pleasure undulated through her, followed by a low moan.
"I thought you were averse to staying in bed with me," he mumbled. Suddenly, Oliver rolled, hitching his body so that they sprawled to the side of the mattress and he reversed their positions. He tucked his arms under her shoulders and rested on his elbows, her breasts flattening against his chest. "Mmm."
"They are your friends," she breathed and writhed against him, urging his face back down to her lips even though he resisted. "I do not need to keep them entertained."
"Insatiable woman," Oliver murmured, dropping a chaste kiss to her lips yet his hips dipped intimately into the vee of her thighs, making her gasp and squirm at the illicit contact, "though I'll not let you miss this afternoon for all the cider in Haventry-"
"Assuredly, I'll not be missing much then!"
He nipped the corner of her lip and then rolled off, lurching to his feet a bit unsteadily. The sudden loss of contact left her reeling and bereft, and she felt compelled to entice him back to her, though his own state of disrepair soon staved off any lingering stirrings of desire that were waiting to pounce. Oliver pressed a hand to his forehead, grimacing. "God, I don't suppose Heather is out already so that I need not exit through the window in this state?" he griped.
"Doubtful, she imbibed her fair share of love tonics last night too."
Oliver snorted and located his discarded clothes on the floor. He shook out his linen shirt and then shrugged it over his shoulders. Amy silently appreciated the view he offered, finding something sensual and intimate in the act of watching him fix his attire. He worked his cufflinks distractedly while his gaze lingered over various other items in her room, and then he was stuffing the tails under the waist of his trousers, momentarily wrestling his prominently outlined erection and throwing her a sheepish smile in the process.
She almost melted against her pillows.
When he was satisfied with his attire, he stumbled over to her and dropped a kiss atop her head. "Do not be late, Griff."
And with his signature roguish quirk of his lips, Oliver exited via her window as he had done countless of times before, yet never after a declaration of love. Even though she knew that in a few hours she would see him once more, she rather thought she missed him right then and longed for his presence once more.
Sighing, she rose from the bed and unconsciously began to count down the hours until she joined him at Gravewood later that day.
Six.
~~~
AN- Apologies for delays with updates. Will be aiming for once a week at least at this point until work dies down a bit and a sleeping pattern returns.
Support adored! Thank you :)