Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(124)

“It is,” he agreed, walking over toward the bed. “And it’s about to get even better.”

We went slow. Deliciously, torturously slow.

With every article of clothing removed, we lavished time and attention on the skin revealed. The inside of his wrists. The small of my back. The lines on his abs. The curve of my hip. Calf muscles. Collarbones. Chests.

He ran his hands over every inch of my skin as if he’d never touched anything as soft or sexy. He whispered sweet, dirty things in my ear that made me blush. He buried his head between my thighs and used his lips and tongue and fingers on me until I arched and gasped, writhing beneath him with my hands fisted in his hair.

“So was that less than five minutes?” I asked, still panting as he crawled up my body.

“I have no idea. I’m not in a rush this time,” he said, bracing himself with his hands above my shoulders.

“Me either.” I reached down and took his hot, hard cock in my hands. “But don’t make me wait.”

I didn’t have to worry—he was just as anxious to be inside me as I was to have him there. As his hips rolled over mine, my hands snaked around his back and down over his ass, pulling him closer, deeper, tighter to me.

He went slow until he couldn’t hold back anymore, until I was begging him to fuck me harder, until our bodies were so overwhelmed by need they took over, bucking wildly against one another until the tension spiraled so tight and high it snapped, sending us spinning over the edge, soaring head over heels, exploding like stars.

Afterward, we snuggled up with our arms around each other and my head on his chest. I was already falling asleep when I heard his voice.

“Chloe.”

“What?”

“I need to say something.”

“Okay.” I picked up my head and looked at him.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And I’ve never been more sure that something is right. I know it was a risk for you to trust me, but I won’t let you down.” His crooked grin appeared. “From now on, it’s you and me.”

Pure joy radiated through me. “Are you trying to make me fall for you, Oliver Pemberton?”

He grinned. “We don’t fall. We jump.”

I fell asleep with a smile on my face, positive that the risk had been worth it, that my heart had finally led me in the right direction, that people really could change.

This was real. I felt it way down deep.





We spent most of the morning in bed, looking at each other in the sunlight streaming through the window, running our hands along each other’s bare limbs, discovering freckles and dimples and scars in hidden places.

“What’s this?” I asked, tracing a scar on his ribcage.

“I gouged it on some big rocks in the lake one summer.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, it hurt. But I’d jumped in to save this one kid who’d fallen off the boat, couldn’t swim, and wasn’t wearing a life jacket.”

I gasped. “Oh my God! Are you serious?”

“No.” His crooked grin appeared. “But that’s a better story than ‘I was being a jackass jumping off a rock pile and slipped.”

I slapped his chest. “Jerk. I believed you.”

“I know. You’re so gullible.”

“Do you even teach sailing to kids or was that bullshit too?” For a moment, I had a small panic attack that I was gullible, and Oliver was still a con man, a wolf in preppy sheep’s clothing.

“Yes. I wouldn’t lie about that, Chloe. You can take that suspicious look off your face.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You have to admit, you have a history of stretching the truth when it suits you.”

“When did you get this?” he asked me, brushing his thumbs over the long, faintly purple line on my leg, which was hooked over his hips.

“Well,” I said, propping my head on my hand, “when I was younger, I used to hang out with this kid who was always daring me to do dumb shit like jump off roofs.”

Oliver kissed the scar. “What an asshole. Give me his name, I’ll kick his ass.”

I smiled at him, narrowing my eyes. “Come on, I don’t name names. You know me better than that.”

Grinning, he flipped around so that we lay the same way, head to hip to toe. “I do.”

I traced the mark on his collarbone. “Funny how we both have a scar from that day. Think it was fate?”

He laughed a little. “Probably. Or stupidity. One of the two.”

“I wanted to impress you so badly,” I confessed.

“It worked. I was so sure you wouldn’t jump.”

“So sure that you bet something you didn’t even own,” I reminded him with a poke on the chest.

He laughed again, and my heart trilled faster at the sound of it. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you someday. Does the leg you broke ever bother you?”

“Not really. I thought about getting a tattoo to cover the scar, but decided against it.”

“How come?”

“Well, for one, the scar is kinda badass, don’t you think?” I lifted my leg in the air and we both looked at it.

“Definitely,” he teased. “If you were coming at me and I saw that scar, I’d think you were scary as fuck.”