The Wedding Engagement

Chapter Twenty-Three

He could smell her again. Why was that? Through the sleepy haze he tried to recall if he still had Liv’s T-shirt on his radiator.

Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the beautiful sight of her sleeping, her face only inches away and the heat of her hand wrapped with his.

Arran lifted his head and very gently touched his lips to the tip of her nose. The feeling was still there, the one that had been swelling for months, then snowballing acutely for the past few weeks. The need to protect her. To support and nourish her.

Now that she’d confided in him, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t worked it out before. Deep down, she was terrified of being like her father. Despite the fact that Liv and her empathetic ways were the polar opposite of dickhead Dave, it kind of didn’t surprise him that she was worried about that. Not because she was anything like her dad, but because it was typical of her to worry about everyone’s feelings, how the way she acted affected them, to agonize and punish herself over how others felt. And that would be why she hadn’t told anyone before. Too afraid of upsetting her loved ones. And it didn’t help that her mum fueled Liv’s instinct to keep any negative thoughts to herself and chastised her for assertive behavior.

Liv was so strong and put together that everyone forgot to look out for her. A meme he’d seen online came to mind— Remember to check on your strong friend .

She stirred, and when she opened her eyes, she gave him the most beautiful smile, which melted his heart.

“Morning.” She stretched, keeping her hand entwined with his. “Thanks for letting me stay over. And allowing me to nick half the bed.”

Arran grinned, feeling like he hadn’t smiled properly in weeks. “Delighted to have you.”

Shuffling a little closer, she lifted their hands to kiss the back of his, and the feel of her soft lips on his skin sent a red-hot thrill right into his belly. “I feel so much better for having told you all that.”

He lifted his other hand to brush her hair from her face, letting his fingers settle in her soft curls. “I do too. Thank you for telling me.”

Liv smiled. “I was worried you might think I was unhinged or an evil bitch, and not want to be my friend anymore.”

He laughed. “You could tell me you’d murdered someone and I’d still be your friend. I’d even volunteer to help you bury the body.”

She joined in his laughter, and the sound of it was like the sun shining on him. “Don’t worry, whoever I murdered would deserve it.” She arched a brow and he knew exactly whom she was referring to. Then her smile fell slightly. “Can I tell you something else?”

He nodded, the warm privileged feeling that she was trusting him settling like a cocoon around his heart. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and let his fingers rest in her hair.

“I wonder if that’s why I’ve kept away from serious relationships. Because I don’t want to be hurt or hurt anyone the way Dad did Mum. Or Cat did Sam.” She paused. “Or how I hurt Dean.”

It killed him that she was still beating herself up about that. Good job that fucker Dean had left town years back, otherwise Arran would’ve hunted the twat down and kicked his arse all the way to John O’Groats and into the North Sea. Get in the sea, dickhead.

“You know now that’s not true, right?” he asked her, searching her face. “Your intentions were good with Dean, and he was a dick who exploited your emotional vulnerabilities. You could never hurt someone the way Dave did. You’re the total opposite.” He smiled. “The anti-Dave.”

She laughed softly. “I like the sound of that. But I suppose it’s something I need to work on. I think I’m jaded about relationships in general, after witnessing both Mum’s and Sam’s trauma.” She swallowed. “Every time I get too close to someone romantically, I get these horrible palpitations and this sickening feeling. But instead of facing it and trying to fathom it, I buried it, and for years I let everyone think I was this unlucky-in-love, desperate-for-a-relationship person. But really, I was actively avoiding commitment.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m like Nico, by stealth.”

Arran laughed. “I never thought there’d be a scenario where we’d be grouping you in with Hadid.”

She pulled his hand closer, pressing her lips to his skin again, and the heat pooling in his belly sent a ripple lower, making his morning glory strain hard against his boxers. He shifted his hips backward lest Liv accidentally brushed against it and it had her running for the hills, traumatized by her best mate’s erection.

“I think that’s why I backed off after we kissed,” she told him tentatively. “That horrible feeling came over me, exacerbated by the altercation with that guy. I had this twisted sense of guilt about defending myself. Must be a throwback to Mum telling me that standing up for myself means I have a bad temper like my dad.”

He pulled her close to kiss her forehead.

She snuggled in further, giving him a shy look. “I think what made it worse this time is that, I, ah…I really like you.”

A burst of joy caught fire in his chest, and it really didn’t do anything to help the tent situation in his underwear.

She was looking at him with that same intensity, the way she’d done when he’d nearly kissed her on the sofa the previous evening, before they’d been interrupted by Sam’s SOS call. The way she’d looked at him that night on Skye. But this time it’s a million times hotter.

“I wanted more to happen between us,” Liv said, her voice scratchy. “I just got scared.” She cleared her throat. “Because you mean so much to me.”

He gave her a smile, his heart fit to burst. “Well, shit. And here was me thinking I was the tortured, brooding, relationship-averse one. When all along it was you.”

Liv let out a laugh. “Brooding? You?” She gave his chest a little nudge. “You’re a total sweetheart.” She grinned. “However, that’ll teach you to go in for gender stereotypes.”

He chuckled. “Yep.”

“I need to admit something else,” she told him, her voice soft.

“What’s that?” he asked, mesmerized by her eyes.

She swallowed. “I’ve kind of been wearing your green T-shirt to bed.”

The idea of that was as hot as a volcano. “Kind of?”

She smiled. “Well, not kind of. Totally. Every night.”

He let out a gentle laugh, pushing his fingers farther into her hair, then trailing them through her dark waves. “Not gonna lie. I fucking love that.” He bent his head to drop a feather-soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, and she shivered in response. “I like the idea of something of mine being wrapped around you while you sleep.” Her breath hitched, and his eyes were drawn to her mouth as he remembered the feel of her lips against his. His gaze dropped lower. The T-shirt she was wearing was a Doctor Who design and sported a big picture of a Dalek on it. The material was pretty threadbare and, unless he was mistaken and Daleks had nipples he hadn’t been aware of, he could see the stiff outline of Liv’s. Never mind exterminate; he was about to spontaneously combust. “I also need to confess some things,” he told her, his voice thick.

“Oh yeah?” she whispered.

“Mm-hmm.” He dropped another light kiss, this time at the opposite corner of her mouth. No sense in leaving things uneven. Plus he loved the way she shivered whenever he did that. “I also want more to happen between us. I also really like you, and”—he leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear, sensing goose bumps erupting on her skin in response—“I also sleep with your T-shirt.”

He leaned back to take in her puzzled expression.

“But it would never fit you,” she said.

He smiled and lifted his top pillow to reveal her T-shirt spread out between it and the pillow below. “I can neither confirm nor deny the rumor that I smell it every night before I go to sleep.”

She looked at the T-shirt, then back at him, her green eyes luminescent with desire. She tugged him back in, and he dropped the pillow back into place to oblige.

Holding her close, he studied every fleck of green and gold in her irises, feeling like he could look at her forever. He ran his gaze over the delicious curve of her cheek, dropping a kiss there, then on the other cheek. She began to tremble in his arms, and he stroked a hand down her back to soothe her. Then his eyes caught on her mouth. Her lips were so plump and pink. So soft. He brushed the tip of his thumb across her bottom lip, remembering how she’d tasted, and realizing this was a dangerous game with regard to the ever-evolving underwear-tent situation.

Then she bit the tip of his thumb, steadily meeting his gaze, and he was lost. Oh God.

“Arran,” she whispered.

For a second, he forgot every word in his vocabulary. Then, when his voice did emerge, it was hoarse. “Yeah?”

Her eyes were so big and wide. “Can I kiss you?”

His brain ground to a complete halt. He managed to utter another “yeah” before she leaned in to brush those soft, plump lips against his, closing down all logical thought processes. Including the one that was telling him to keep his hard-on away from her, because he let her press right against him as she dipped her tongue into his mouth and ramped his heart rate out of control.

The feel of her mouth on his was so achingly good. He’d been craving more of it ever since that kiss on Skye. And the scent of her, God, it drove him crazy.

A desperate need pooled low in his belly. But he wanted everything to be on her terms. She’d come so far in being this open with him, disclosing deep vulnerabilities that must have left her feeling raw and exposed.

So he let her take control, let her guide him where she wanted. He slid his tongue against hers as she pushed her hands into his hair and ground her hips into his, making him groan with need. Then she rolled on top of him and he surrendered himself to her as she lifted his arms above his head, removing his T-shirt and then entwining her fingers with his, all the while torturing him with her soft, hot mouth. He wanted that mouth all over his body.

Her kiss left him breathless, and every time she broke away, he hungrily searched for her again, ravaging her with his tongue when she came back to him. Until, eventually, she broke off and sat up, straddling his hips and breathing heavily.

For a desperate moment he thought she was going to stop. But instead, she grasped the bottom of her T-shirt—his T-shirt—and by God, if Olivia Holland lifting his shirt over her head wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d witnessed in his entire life.

He was paralyzed—staring as her luscious breasts were revealed and she dropped the shirt onto the floor. His hands moved instinctively, almost of their own accord, sliding up the smooth skin of her stomach to cup her softness with both hands as she came back down to kiss him again, his thumbs grazing the hard peaks of her nipples. For a moment a weird thought entered his mind that he wished he’d moisturized his hands in case they were too rough for such delicate, soft skin.

She felt so good. Tasted so good. And now she was sliding off her shorts and kissing her way down his abdomen. Holy fuck.

Liv tugged the cotton of his underwear to slide it over his legs and off, and the way she was looking up at him was something else. Like all she ever wanted to look at was him.

“You’re so hot,” she whispered, and it blew his mind. Then she bent down to take him into her mouth and the bolt of pleasure made him jerk his hips off the bed with a groan.

He slipped his fingers into her hair as she pumped him in and out, the soft heat of her mouth making him ache. “Liv,” he said, unable to believe this was really happening. That the woman he’d wanted for what felt like an eternity had him at her mercy, laid out bare and desperate for more.

He wanted to make her moan.

Twisting his fingers into her hair, he used the gentle traction to lift her head. “Come here,” he said, his voice sounding more like the growl of a wild animal than his own. She obeyed, crawling up him, her smooth skin brushing against his in the most exquisite manner. She lay on top of him as he ran his hands all over her naked body.

He felt like she was made to be under his hands. Designed to fit against him and surround him. He cupped her delectable arse, grinding into her as he kissed and gently bit the soft skin of her neck.

Her breathing was already ragged, and the sound of it was so fucking hot. When he slipped his fingers between her legs and began to tease her, they slid easily through her folds. His desire ramped up impossibly further as he realized how ready for him she already was.

She was moaning his name against his mouth and he didn’t want her to stop. He pushed her harder, tuning in to how to touch her in order to tease out more of her delicious sounds.

Liv began to buckle against his fingers, so he slid them inside, eliciting a sweet gasp. He gave her some languid rubs of his thumb in tandem with the push and pull of his fingers until her heat clenched around him. He kept up his movements, the roll of her climax moving over his fingers as he shifted his open-mouthed kisses over her face.

Eventually, she stilled on top of him, her skin slick against his, breathing heavily.

Arran paused for a few seconds, holding her head against his neck. Then he gently rolled them over, securing her with his weight. He waited until she opened her eyes, staring into them as he kissed her.

She smiled, lifting one hand into his hair and grabbing his arse with the other. She squeezed, pushing him more intimately, until his tip was teasing her entrance.

“Wait,” he said, catching her chin in his fingers and looking into her eyes, needing to know this was okay so soon after her emotional unloading. “Are you sure?”

“Are you joking?” she replied, her eyes widening. “If this doesn’t happen in the next couple of seconds I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.”

He chuckled softly, knowing exactly what she meant but choosing to delay a little longer, to intensify the sensations. “Really? As in, death by cock?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “Death by lack of cock.”

“A serious affliction,” he murmured against her neck. “Just let me grab a condom.”

Reaching into the bedside drawer, he took one out, dealing hastily with the wrapper and sliding it on.

Liv was pulling him in again, and that was as much delay as he could stand.

He paused for a second to hold her beautiful face, then drove into her, groaning at how her heat surrounded him so tightly, how she gripped him as he thrust in and out.

It was as if all his life’s choices had brought him to this one moment. The heartbreak he’d felt last year was a memory so distant that it seemed like someone else’s. Everything that had happened had been meant to be, a path that had led him into Liv’s arms, and now he was where he belonged—inside Olivia Holland not only physically but emotionally. She’d let him into her head, to places no one else had been allowed. And he hoped she’d let him into her heart too.

She was calling his name again and it was so hot, he couldn’t stand it. Then she began to tighten around him as her second orgasm crested, and it was all he could do to hold on through her climax before he came himself.

The intensity of it stole the breath from his body. It wasn’t just that this was the best he’d ever had; there was something more to it. Something deeper. A connection that only strengthened the more she let him in, the more vulnerable they were with each other.

He kept his eyes on hers, trying to anchor himself in the moment, getting lost in the sea of her eyes. Wave after wave of warm ocean washed over him, leaving him drowning in pleasure and sweet emotion.

Then the words crashed into his brain. I love you.

For a moment he thought he’d said it out loud, then realized his thoughts were just distorted in his mind, as if he’d detached a little from reality. The words drifted away as the fierce intensity of his climax ripped through his consciousness, so that he almost forgot what had been going through his head.

He allowed himself to slump a little on top of her, holding back some of his weight in case he was too heavy.

But she tugged him down, collapsing him onto her. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he told her.

“It’s okay,” she said, breathless. “I like feeling the weight of you. I like that you’re so much bigger than me.” A smile played on her lips. “I can still fell you, though, with my karate skills. So you’d better watch yourself.”

He smiled as he rested his forehead on hers. “In that case, I don’t think I will watch myself. Because the idea of you pinning me down is a huge turn-on.”

Those three little words resurfaced, and free of his climax-rattled brain, the thought fully hit home. I love her. I’m in love with Olivia Agnes Holland.

It was the cliché to end all clichés—but he’d never felt this way before. It was almost as if the physical act had tethered a little piece of his soul to her. He was connected in a way he hadn’t been before, to her or anyone else who’d come before. Did she feel it too?

He could’ve easily uttered all of it aloud, but something stopped him. The same thing that stopped him from telling her how long he’d dreamed of this. How long he’d wanted her to look at him the way she was doing right now. How much he wanted them to be together.

He didn’t want to rush her, to scare her off. Not when she’d only just managed to let him in.

She was stroking his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said.

Her eyes were wide. “Do you really think Dean said that shit to me because he was proud? Not because he thought it was true?”

He managed to bring his thoughts back to some kind of clarity. “Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

She searched his face. “But you never said anything nasty to Jess. And you’re really proud too.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’ve never known anyone as reluctant to ask for or accept help as you.”

“I guess I don’t have the ego to match,” he replied, lifting his head to grin at her. “Though I really should, being such a sex god and all.”

She laughed, and he absorbed the warmth of it through his chest. “I can’t argue with you there.” She kissed him, then whispered against his mouth. “I always knew you’d be superhot in bed.”

“Why, thank you Aggie,” he said, peppering her face with kisses. “The same goes for you.” And then some.

Her smile softened. “I like that you’re using that nickname again. You hadn’t called me it in a little while and I felt like I’d lost a bit of you.”

Lifting a hand, he trailed his fingers down her face. “You’ll never lose me.” That was the most he allowed himself to say to indicate the depth of his feelings, keeping the rest buried.

When she’s ready. Then I’ll tell her everything.