“Ye…ye…s,” she croaked, meeting his eyes which were getting darker and deeper. So deep she feared they would swallow her whole.
And then, as she stared up at him, the feeling washed over her, and she opened her mouth again and again to voice her pleasure, but no sound came out.
And so, with Shane filling her to the hilt, her mind and body rocketed out of control, and she finally screamed, catapulted high among the clouds and further on among the stars, panting against his shoulder, her orgasm so intense she thought her head would explode.
“I love you, Shane!” she cried before she could stop.
In stunned silence, Shane watched her for a moment before taking her mouth again.
* * *
Enveloped in hot suds, Olivia lay between his legs. He still remained silent, probably freaked out by her confession. Should she bring it up? Probably not.
But she didn’t know him anymore. In the last fourteen months, he had morphed into a completely different man. He had developed completely different tastes. Almost as if he’d undergone the same process she had with Hunter. Whoever it was in there, she had to thank him for giving her such joy.
“Hunter…”
She turned toward him. “Hmm?”
“The tattoo on your nape, was that Henna, too?”
Shit, not again.
“Why?”
“It’s gone.”
“Uh, really?”
“Uh-huh. Any ideas?”
Olivia sat up, trying to think clearer. “I, ah—my grandmother who came from a small village by the Caspian Sea dabbled a little with the occult and tattoos and so, she made a few…magic spells.” There. She’d said it.
She felt his smile against the side of her face. “I’m sure you can cast spells too.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. I’m good and under your spell, sweetheart…”
Olivia frowned, but said nothing.
“What, were you serious?”
“You don’t believe in this stuff, do you, Shane?”
“Do
you
?”
“I grew up on magic,” Olivia heard herself say, thinking the only magic she knew was the magic of his presence. She needed to find a way to convince Shane of her identity, and so far it didn’t look promising.
“Well, the idea is very decadent,” he agreed.
“I
am
decadent.”
“Yes, you are. Sinfully decadent. I want to know all there is about you.”
Yeah,
she thought wryly.
So do I.
Shane watched her with hooded eyes again. Did the man think of nothing else? She knew
she
couldn’t if he was around. And when they were apart, she still couldn’t keep her mind off him. She glanced down at his tattoo,
Olivia Forever
.
“What was your wife like?”
He groaned. “And you’re bringing this up
now
?”
The look on his face made her laugh.
Shane ran a loving hand over the words inked into his skin and a knot clogged up her throat. When he spoke, his own voice choked.
“Olivia was a real lady.”
“So, bad sex?”
Ooh, he’d better watch what he said.
“It was fantastic. But that’s my business if you don’t mind,” he chided gently, lifting her chin with his index to kiss her lips ever so delicately.
“Oh. Sure. Sorry. Can I make you a cup of tea?”
“Tea?” He caught her around the waist and tugged her close to his chest. “Get over here…”
* * *
When Shane and Olivia finally managed to get some clothes on, they sat down to a ready-made meal of risotto and Aubergine Parmesan. Shane seemed to have forgotten all his sermons about her ties with the gang, but she knew they were only delayed. She also knew that was the reason he’d invited her up here, to lull her into a false sense of security so he could steal a confession from her. She wanted to swallow her own tongue for telling Shane she loved him. What had she expected back there, a confession of undying love after a few sessions in the sack? What exactly did this time together mean to him, if anything?
They ate in silence, and when she pushed her plate back, he reached out to take her hand, sort of bouncing it in his aimlessly.
“Hunter,” he began.
“Please don’t say anything,” she whispered back. Her hand slipped out of his, and she headed for the guestroom. At the door, she stopped and turned. “I couldn’t deny it to myself any longer, Shane. You are the man of my dreams.”
He smiled sadly. “Hunter, you are an angel, but I- I’m still…” Tears rose to her eyes and he whispered, “Please don’t cry. Fuck. You’re amazing. But I can’t fail another woman.”
“You wouldn’t. Shane, it wasn’t your fault.”
He frowned. “How do you know that?”
She shrugged. “I read the papers…”
Shane sighed. “What do you want from me, exactly, Hunter?”
Olivia bit her lip, unable to stop herself. “I want you, Shane. I want you to love me, the way you loved your wife.”
Shane dragged an exhausted hand through his hair and groaned. “I’m sorry, Hunter, but that is not—I’m sorry. I’m here to help you, and I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”
Olivia watched him with all the longing she harbored in her heart. Then, without another word she crept upstairs and crawled into the plush guest bed she never thought she’d have to sleep in. It was huge. Too huge.
She tossed for at least half an hour, listening to the waves crash and remembering how many nights they’d snuggled up together in their marital bed. God, she needed another word for unfair. Shane knocked on her door and poked his head in. “Any room for me? I’ll understand if you throw my ass out.”
Olivia grinned, flipped back the covers, shifted to allow his weight, and settled herself in his arms, content to be there. Only God knew how long it would last.
In the dark, silent room, she listened to his breathing until it became deep and even. Warm tears gushed down her cheeks. She missed this so much. She missed having him in her life, being with him. Being his wife. She stifled her sobs, her sniffles interrupting the night silence.
“Catching a cold?” he murmured in his sleep as he brought the duvet up to her chin and pulled her close, already asleep again before she could answer.
Olivia clung to him, lightly kissing his shoulder near her mouth, wanting to die again and again until she returned as herself.
* * *
When Shane left to get some milk and bread from the village the next morning, Olivia stole into their bedroom, only to catch her breath. Her nightgown, the cream lace one she wore a lot the previous summer, lay draped over the back of a chair. Her cosmetics and perfumes lay untouched and her jewelry box had the lid lifted, the way she always left it.
Olivia neared the nightstand, her heart pounding wildly, and peered inside. The pearl necklace he had given her for her birthday lay in the box, in the center, along with other precious pieces he’d bought her over the years. Olivia swallowed a sob and reached out to touch the keepsakes that didn’t belong to her anymore, but to a distant time when they were happy.
And then her heart stopped at the sight of it. Her very first cello, propped up in the corner by the bay window, exactly where she used to practice. She covered her hand to stifle the sob.
Her initials, O. H., were carved onto a tiny plaque stuck to the body. And then she froze at the realization. If she held it with her left hand, as Hunter would, the plaque read H. O. Hunter Orlando.
She plucked a few chords and frowned. Out of tune, of course. She delicately tuned it, then stroked the bow to the chords, over and over until she recognized its original, pure sound. Satisfied, she played the scales, then her favorite—“The Swan” by Saint Saens, the saddest piece she knew. Go figure.
Although she sat in her own home, she was a stranger here, and a stranger to her husband. The love he’d given her all these years had been suddenly taken away from her, and nothing but memories remained. She would never reach his heart. Even last night as they cuddled, Olivia knew it wasn’t the same as with his wife. Something was missing.
“What the blazes are you doing?”
“I’m…I—”
Shane entered the room, his eyes steady on hers.
Olivia eyed him squarely, tired of this charade. They both knew he wanted her to sing the jailbird song. He thought she knew all sorts of dirty little secrets. The trouble was, those dirty little secrets had gone away with Hunter’s soul. Olivia set the cello back down in the corner, the bow on the chair next to it.
“Stop playing around, Shane. I know why I’m here. Alfie wants me to confess God knows what, and you thought you might as well make the best of it.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about Alfie?”
“Much less than he knows about me. He seems to think I’m a gang leader or something.”
“Aren’t you?”
Was she? She had clout in Randy’s eyes, yes, but how the hell could she know about anything else? And suddenly, sick of being Hunter Orlando, exhaustion invaded her. All she wanted was to be herself again. And to not have to go back to that damn flat in Plumstead.
She sighed. “I don’t want to be his girlfriend anymore. He…scares me.”
That much was true.
Shane’s expression changed and his hand found hers as he let out a long, pained sigh. “If you confess the gang’s activities, I’ll see to it personally that you don’t go to jail. I promise.”
Olivia looked up into his green eyes. Did he mean it, or was it simply a ploy to reel her in? She couldn’t tell him about the kidnapping and Hunter’s own role in it if she wanted to work her way back into Shane’s heart.
“I-I can’t,” she managed.
Shane placed his hands on her shoulders and those sexy green eyes captured her as always. “Of course you can. I’ll protect you. You won’t ever have to see Randy or his thugs again, I swear to you. Will you at least think about it?”
Olivia nodded, trying to fight back the tears and he gently kissed them away. “As long as I’m around, no one will hurt you, sweetheart.”
Olivia reached up to caress his lean cheek, loving him more than ever, if possible.
Shane nodded at the cello. “Where did you learn to play?”
Olivia smiled. “Full of surprises, aren’t I?”
Shane’s eyes narrowed. “It’s uncanny. You remind me of Olivia in so many ways.”
“I do?” Olivia almost cried in disbelief.
“Not because of the cello. Nor physically, or personality-wise. Just…moments. Your eyes shine the way hers did when she laughed.”
Never had she thought she would be living this moment with him again. Olivia could feel the anger inside him for having lost his wife, and she knew he used her body out of frustration. Simply for pleasure. Release. But it would have to do for the time being, until she could get back into her life. And his.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Shane offered and they let themselves out the back door to the beach, Lottie yapping happily at their feet.
Olivia bent and kissed the dog on the head. “Lottie old girl, yes, yes, I love you, too,” she cooed as Lottie jumped up and down the way she only did with her.
Olivia spotted Shane’s expression out of the corner of her eye, but he said nothing. She breathed deeply of the salt air, thankful for the wind causing her eyes to water.
* * *
“Hunter, you don’t have to cook,” Shane said as he came into the kitchen.
She turned with her spatula in hand. “I want to. There’s more to me than my sexy body, you know?”
Shane kissed her mouth and then peered into the oven as Olivia mixed a tiramisu. “I made shepherd’s pie. Your favorite.”
Shit and shit again.
“I mean,
my
favorite.”
“How the hell did you know?”
“I took a shot.”
Shane neared her. “Just how well did you know my wife, Hunter?”
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t imagine why you are so similar to her. You have nothing in common.”
She stared up at him. “Well, thank you very much. At least now I know what you think of me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispered.
“No, I’m sure you meant it as a compliment.”
“Answer me. How well did you know my wife?”
Shane stared down into her face so fiercely she cringed. “You know how it is, women chatting in the same room, chewing the breeze. I told you, she said she wanted to spice up your marriage a bit.”
Shane’s fingers circled Olivia’s arms. “Our marriage was perfect and didn’t need your butting in!”
“Perfect?” Olivia cried, slamming the spatula down, mascarpone cream flying everywhere, and unable to stop the words she had never had the courage to pronounce as herself, but as Hunter it was a whole different story. “Peaceful, you mean? Never an argument, never a disagreement! Because Olivia was a quiet girl, content for you to take the lead.”
“That’s not true. Did she tell you that?”
“The tattoo was her idea. She came to me determined to do something to turn you on. She wanted a permanent change. She wanted sparks in bed.”
Shane dropped his head into his hands.
She pressed on. “Like you and me have. Have you ever had that with Olivia? Have you?” she asked, knowing the answer damn well, but afraid to hear it all the same. “Shane, you can’t deny that you and I are fire together,” she demanded, taking a step toward him and removing her towel so she was standing stark naked.
Olivia had never done
that
before, but for now she was content to use Hunter’s flirty nature in her own favor. In love and war, nothing is off limits.
Shane’s eyes darted to her full, perky breasts, and Olivia’s heartbeat quickened. Heat bolted to the spot between her thighs, spreading to her lower belly like a quick, licking flame.
“You have to admit you have never lost control with Olivia like you have with me…” She moved to kiss his mouth but his hands held her at arms’ length, although his eyes were pained.
“Olivia was my wife—I
loved
her,” he croaked.
“I know. But it’s okay to feel something for me.”
His hands cupped her breasts, his fingers squeezing her nipples. She moaned in another surge of pleasure, and made to move closer to him, but he kept her there, a breath away from his body.