Undeniable Page 5

  His slid his hand inside my underwear, but didn’t rush to shove his finger inside me—he went slow, rubbing circles over my clit before stroking me soft and shallow, his tongue still teasing my nipple. He went so slow, in fact, I began to get impatient. This wasn’t supposed to be romantic.

  “Oliver,” I whispered, using my hold on his hair to pull up his head. “Take my jeans off.”

  Without a word, he moved to the foot of his bed and yanked off my shoes and socks, my jeans and underwear. Before I could feel weird about being completely naked in front of him for the first time, he ditched the rest of his clothing and lay down beside me.

  This time he kissed me for real, and I realized why that kiss on prom night had stayed with me. Oliver was a great kisser. He had a generous mouth with full, lush lips that commandeered a kiss the way a general commandeered his men. He braced himself on one arm and reached between my legs with the other hand. This time I did the same, a little hesitant at first, but discovering how hard he was, and hearing the groan at the back of his throat when I wrapped my hand around him, bolstered my confidence.

  He slid one finger inside me as his tongue stroked mine. Then two. I moved my fist up and down the hot, rigid length of his dick, and soon he began to thrust in time to my rhythm. His breath came faster and faster. Pulling his fingers from my body, he rubbed the silky wetness over my clit with his fingertips. I wanted to move against his hand, but I was too self-conscious. This wasn’t supposed to be about pleasure. I didn’t need seduction.

  He grew slick inside my palm. “Do you have something?” I whispered, my heart pumping hard.

  “Yeah.” Climbing over me, he got out of bed, went over to his dresser, and opened the top drawer.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him—I’d never seen a guy fully naked walking around before. Oliver’s body was lean and taut, with ridges on his abdomen, muscular shoulders, and hairy legs. His erection stuck out from his body, pointing diagonally up at the ceiling. I almost laughed out of sheer nervousness, but the next second he tore open the condom wrapper and began to roll it down his cock, and something about watching him do it stole my breath.

  Then he was back.

  “Are you still sure you want to do this?” he asked, stretching out over me.

  I opened my legs wider, so he could wedge himself between my thighs. “Yes.”

  “Because now is the time if—”

  “You know, Oliver, I really didn’t imagine all this pushback. I sort of thought you’d just do it without talking.”

  “I’m not allowed to talk?”

  “No. I just need an uncomplicated dick for this.”

  “Jesus.” He reached between us and sort of aimed the tip of his erection between my legs, like he was about to shoot a rocket through a hoop. “This has to be the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Just do it,” I said breathlessly. “Blair will worry if I’m not back at the bar soon.”

  He did it. Didn’t take long, I have to say.

  Not that I didn’t enjoy it some. The truth was, it felt good being skin to skin with Oliver. His body was warm and strong, and he smelled salty and masculine. It didn’t even hurt as much as I’d thought it would.

  But I defiantly blocked myself off from any flutter of pleasure within me. I didn’t want to enjoy this too much. The point of having sex with Oliver wasn’t to satisfy my own desire. It was to satisfy my curiosity. Cross virginity off my list.

  So I didn’t move like my body wanted to, I held my tongue rather than echo the hot, abandoned sounds Oliver was making, I turned my head to the side when his lips came close to mine and told me he was going to come. For the next several seconds, his body went still, and I felt a faint pulsing inside me I refused to focus on.

  Then it was done. Exactly as I’d planned.

  Except … something wasn’t right. We lay there afterward, Oliver’s chest on mine, his breathing hard and fast, his lips grazing my temple. Then he dropped his head, burying his face in my neck. He kissed my throat. I swallowed hard.

  I wasn’t feeling as closed off from the experience as I’d hoped I would. I’d envisioned this being more like a business transaction, but my stomach was all knotted up. I was torn between wanting to tell Oliver that my rules were stupid and if he wanted to call me, he could, and sticking to the original plan.

  “Chloe,” he said quietly. “Maybe we could—”

  “I can’t breathe,” I said, pushing on his chest. “Can I get up?”

  “Oh … sure.” He got off me, and I quickly slipped out of bed.

  Oliver and I dressed in silence, although I felt him looking at me like there was something he wanted to say. I didn’t know what to hope for.

  On the walk back to the bar, it was colder outside than it had been on the walk to the dorm.

  “Want my jacket?” he asked me.

  “No. I’m good.” I wasn’t good, I was freezing, but I never would have worn Oliver’s jacket before we had sex, so I wouldn’t wear it afterward. I didn’t want him to think I expected anything more than I’d asked for. Instead, I pulled my hands inside my sweater sleeves.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. It was a few minutes before he spoke again. “So was it what you thought?”

  “I guess.”

  “And you’re … okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  We walked in silence for a while. My mind was spinning with all kinds of thoughts, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Truth be told, I was a little scared I’d say something I shouldn’t. Something I’d regret. I had this weird pit in my stomach, as if I didn’t want to say goodbye. As if I’d miss him. As if we were closer than we’d been before.

  I had to stick to the rules, or I risked ending up with feelings for Oliver I did not want. I knew how he treated girls he dated, and I would never be one of those girls. He didn’t respect them. He certainly didn’t love them. He only cared about having a good time in the moment and moving on.

  I never wanted to be the girl he left behind.

  7

  Chloe

  NOW

  Oliver found me on the deck about twenty minutes after I stormed out of the living room, lying in one of the chaise lounges and scowling up at the stars.

  “This a private party?” he asked, dropping onto the chaise next to mine.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m crashing it.” He stretched out on his back, folding his arms over his chest. “Beautiful out here. So peaceful.”

  “It was.”

  “Come on, Chloe. Can’t we find a way to work together? Let bygones be bygones and all that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He scratched his head and crossed his arms again. “Look. I can’t change the past, but I can try to make it up to you. Let’s put aside our differences and work together. Let me help you realize your dream. I know it would feel more satisfying to tell me to fuck off and do it on your own, but don’t be stubborn, okay? Be smart.”

  I looked at him incredulously. “I am being smart, Oliver. My head is telling me not to forget all the stupid things you’ve conned me into doing in the past. My gut says you can’t be trusted. My heart says—”

  “What?” he interrupted, leaning toward me. He put a hand on my arm. “What does your heart say? Be honest.”

  I jerked my arm out of his reach and stared at him in the dark. “My heart is undecided.”

  “So let me convince you.” Oliver’s voice softened. “Give me a chance to show you why partnering up is the smartest, easiest, quickest way for us both to get what we want.”

  “And how’s that going to work?” I asked. “By me coming down to Detroit to toil away in your distilleries with you calling all the shots?”

  “Not at all.” He paused. “Take a trip with me.”

  “What?” I squawked. “Are you nuts?”

  “Maybe.” He laughed. “But take a trip with me. There’s something I really want you to see, and a story I need to tell you.”


  “What’s the story?”

  “First say you’ll do it.”

  “Where’s the trip to?”

  “It’s not far.”

  “You’re not giving me much to go on.”

  “I know, but I promise it will make sense in the end if you just say yes in the beginning. Please, Chloe.” He reached over and touched me again—my leg this time, the top of my thigh. “I want to do this together.”

  “You had your chance at that. You blew it.”

  “Don’t you believe in second chances?”

  He sounded sincere, and I let him leave his hand on my leg, but something was bothering me. “Why now? Why, all of a sudden, do you want to do this with me?”

  “Because you’re great at what you do. I know what you’ve accomplished here in terms of the marketing campaigns for Cloverleigh, from the wines to the inn to the wedding business. You’re ambitious and creative and sharp, and I know you’re a hard worker. And to be fair, it’s not really all of a sudden. I’d have reached out sooner, but it felt more prudent to let some time go by, given the … circumstances.”

  The flattery wasn’t lost on me, but I was silent for the moment, trying to do what Ken said and let things sink in before giving my answer. While I was ruminating, Oliver went on.

  “I know I handled things badly in Chicago,” he said quietly. He took his hand off my leg and laced his fingers between his knees. “I shouldn’t have left that way.”

  “Never mind about that,” I said stiffly. “I don’t care anymore.” It was a lie.

  “I have no excuse other than—”

  “I don’t need to hear your excuse.” That was for sure. The last thing on earth I wanted was to hear him confirm out loud what I’d known all these years—he’d been lying to me that entire weekend. That I had never been anything but a game for him. “The whole experience taught me some good lessons about trust. And you’re right about one thing—it would be more satisfying to tell you to fuck off and make this dream happen on my own, but if I do that, it’ll take that much longer.”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

  “It means I’ll consider it.” I sat up and put my feet on the ground so that we faced each other. “You have one week to convince me. I’ll go on whatever trip you have planned. I’ll listen to your story. I’ll give you the opportunity to sell me on this partnership and why it’s worth my time and effort.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “If you can manage to persuade me, I’m in. If not, no deal.”

  “Works for me.” He held out his hand.

  I hesitated, but eventually I put mine out too, and he enclosed it within his. His grasp was warm and strong, and the handshake was solid. It wasn’t all business, though—a shiver swept across the back of my neck at his touch. Damn him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You won’t be sorry.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I let go of his palm and reclined in the chair once more. He did the same, and for a few minutes, we just lay there side by side, listening to the chatter of the katydids and staring up at the sky.

  “This reminds me of prom night. Remember?” he asked.

  Of course I remembered. “Yes.”

  “I never understood why, out of nowhere, you wanted me to kiss you.”

  I smiled secretly. “Good. I hope it’s been torturing you for years.”

  “Tell me what you were thinking.”

  In truth, I’d wanted him to kiss me because he’d looked so handsome and broody lying there next to me. And I’d had a great time with him that night. But he didn’t deserve that answer. “I was bored. You looked lonely.”

  “Bored? Lonely?”

  He sounded so outraged, I laughed. “I suppose there was a fair amount of curiosity involved. You were always bragging about how girls were all over you. I guess I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.”

  “I see. And did that kiss satisfy your curiosity as to why I was such a stud?”

  “Yes, actually.” I looked at him again. “I thought you were a very good kisser.”

  “And yet you walked away.”

  I felt proud of my teenage self. “Yes. Because I didn’t want it to go any further and I didn’t trust you not to pressure me.”

  “Fuck off, I never would have pressured you like that.”

  “Maybe not,” I allowed. “But I wasn’t taking any chances.”

  “Well, you must have enjoyed it, since it wasn’t long afterward you came to my dorm room looking for more.” He sounded smug.

  “That wasn’t really about you. It was about me.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “Liar. You wanted me. You admitted it years later.” He looked over at me. “Remember? At Hughie’s graduation party?”

  “Yes. I remember that night. Thank you for reminding me of yet another occasion on which you showed me why you can’t be trusted.” I swung my feet to the ground. “And with that, I bid you goodnight.”

  “Chloe, come on. I was just—”

  “Goodnight, Oliver.” Before he could say another word, I stood up and headed for the sliding door to the kitchen.

  From there I fumbled through the darkened house, found my purse and keys on a table in the front hall, and slipped out the front door.

  On the twenty-minute drive home, I felt so hot I had to roll down the window and let the cool wind blow through my hair.

  For a minute, I let my mind wander back. To prom night. To his dorm room. To Hughie’s graduation party. To that unbelievable weekend we’d spent together holed up in a Chicago hotel room seven years ago.

  We’d had our ups and downs, but our chemistry was undeniable. We knew exactly how to light one another on fire in every way, good and bad. But that weekend—that weekend—had made me believe we were soul mates. I honestly thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together. I thought I’d been wrong about him.

  So stupid.

  Those memories had been buried deep inside me for years. But maybe it would be good if I dug them up and let them keep me company over the next week. Oliver had a way of getting under my skin.

  I couldn’t let him.

  * * *

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay without me for a bit?” I asked Henry DeSantis the next morning at work. “My mom and April can cover inn-related business, but it’s a really busy time for the winery.” I felt terrible that I was taking off during our high season.

  He looked up at me from behind his computer. “I’ll be okay.” Henry was rarely at his desk during the work day—he was usually out in the vineyard, pouring wine in the tasting room, giving tours of the winery to writers or buyers or sommeliers, maintaining his bottling lines, overseeing the fermentation process, or attending marketing meetings with me, Mack, my dad and various other family members. But this morning I’d caught him checking his email before he headed out. “Renee is going to come in this week,” he added.

  “Oh, is she? That’s nice.” Renee was Henry’s wife. I didn’t know her too well, but she was a talented graphic designer, and she’d done some work for us in the past. “At this point, I’ll probably only be off for a week,” I told him, “but things are a little up in the air for me at this point.”

  “That’s what your dad said yesterday on the phone. Sounds like maybe the distillery might happen, huh? Your friend wants to partner up and invest?”

  I grimaced. “Maybe. We’ll see. First I need to survive a week with him to know if I can possibly take him as a partner.”

  Henry laughed. “You don’t get along with him?”

  “It’s complicated. I’m going to try.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” I said, heading out of his office into the hall. “I’ll need it.”

  Next, I stuck my head into my dad’s office. “Got a sec?”

  “For one of my girls, always.” He smiled. “So you and Oliver are headed out today, I hear?”

  “Yes, although I have no idea where. I told him
he has one week to sell me on this partnership idea.”

  “That’s what he told me this morning at breakfast.” He nodded. “I think it’s smart. Hear him out, get all the facts and figures. He didn’t go into much of that with me.”

  “I will. I’ve got plenty of questions to ask.” In fact, I’d started a list last night. “I want to know exactly how he sees this working with us co-owning the venture. I don’t want to be just his silent partner. I want a say in things.”

  “Good for you, honey. Just remember, he’s got more experience than you do.”

  My hands balled into fists. “Yes, I know, Dad. I’m not sure if we’re heading to Detroit or what, but I’ll keep in touch with you.”

  “Sounds good. Have fun.”

  After that, I headed up to the inn’s reception desk, where my mother was on duty.

  “There you are,” she said brightly. “Oliver was looking for you.”

  “It’s barely eight A.M!”

  “I think he wanted to get an early start today.” She smiled approvingly. “He’s always been so ambitious.”

  I was dying to roll my eyes, but I managed to refrain. I didn’t want anyone to accuse me of going into this with a bad attitude. “I spoke with Henry just now and he says he’ll be fine without me this week. Apparently, Renee is going to come in and help out.”

  My mother’s smile disappeared, and lines creased her forehead. “Is she? The poor thing.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She sighed. “You can’t say anything about this, but I ran into her last week in town, and when I asked how she was, she burst into tears. Turns out they’ve been struggling with fertility treatments. She confided that their latest round of IVF failed.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.”

  “She was so upset. Reminded me of when Sylvia was trying to get pregnant.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? I didn’t know Sylvia had IVF.”

  “She didn’t talk about it much. You know how private she is.” She sighed. “But it was very hard on her. Anyway, it just goes to show you that you shouldn’t wait forever to start trying to have children,” my mom scolded. “You never know what kinds of issues you might—”