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She hurries up next to me. “Sir, if I may, I think it would be a sweet, romantic gesture to present Olivia with this rose.” She smiles.
“Romantic gesture?” I start, ready to reject the assumption, but the thought of Olivia’s face lighting up at the presentation of a single rose has my heart beating wildly. Clearing my throat, I retrieve it. “I suppose it would be a nice gesture. Romantic or otherwise.”
Gloria beams, and I groan internally. The staff shouldn’t make such a fuss. They’re wrapping my stomach in knots, cramping my belly. And all formality is thrown out the window. Focusing on their informality and simulating irritation helps me to go downstairs without soiling my breeches.
There, Olivia sits waiting for me, and she’s breathtaking. She’s wearing a red sleeveless gown, without a chemisette. Scandalous. Her curly brown hair falls down the length of her back and over her shoulders, wild, free, and perfect. When she spots me, she rises, and I can see from the way her nipples imprint on the light fabric that she’s not wearing a corset. Just like that, my cock hardens. Especially with the way she’s staring at me with her mouth rounded. We stand there wrapped up in each other, before blood rushes from my cock to my feet, pushing me forward.
“You look nice,” she says, and her cheeks flush, though I’m not sure, but I think there might also be a tint of rouge on her cheeks.
“As do you, but aren’t you cold?” I ask, brushing my fingers across her shoulder and down her arm.
She shivers. “My hair helps to keep me warm.” She backs away.
Of course. The next few days and my bloody hands as she put it. I can’t blame her for her reaction. This must be quite odd for her. Now, my fingers twitch with the hidden gift behind my back. The rose. It’s crushed by my nervousness as I hand it to her.
“Erm…” I stutter, looking at the rose with wide eyes.
She looks from me to the rose and as she reaches out to touch it, she breaks out in laughter. “Hm. Thanks.” She fingers the rose’s broken neck and falling petals.
“It wasn’t like that… I don’t know…” I start.
“It’s okay. Thank you,” she says through a grin before gesturing to the seat. I nod, and we both sit.
The wine is served first, which is a great relief. It will help with the quietness between us. Olivia smiles politely at me before turning her head away. This wasn’t the idea I had for tonight. I had hoped it would’ve been filled with more deep conversations. But how can I expect her to want anything to do with me when she doesn’t know if I’ve decided about the upcoming days?
Leaning forward, I whisper, “The servants seem to have all gone mad.”
She stops sipping and smiles, biting her lip before allowing the laughter to escape her. “Yes. I think they may have gotten into the stronger punch,” she says.
I chuckle aloud, grateful that the wine has lightened the air between us. “Do you know they laid out inexpressibles for me?” I smile though my heart is thrusting itself against the cages of my chest, and I’m tapping my feet underneath the table.
She gasps. “Did they? Why didn’t you wear it?” She blushes, the tint on her cheeks glowing even brighter.
“Maybe I want to reserve my bits just for you.” I raise my brows, hiding my face with the wine glass.
“Hm.” She almost chokes on the wine, causing us to grin. “Please. They’ve all seen your bits already,” she manages, playing with the broken rose as the servants come upon us with the trays of food.
Our speech pauses during the meal, but peace is the furthest thing I feel as she sighs and moans with each bite of food that surprises her. I’m not sure if I’ve eaten much of anything at all, or if I’ve just been watching her mouth open and close, darting her tongue out to lick her succulent lips.
Toward the end of the meal, beautiful music floats out of the house toward us. Music that’s as beautiful as hearing her say my name.
She gasps. “Adam. What’s going on? What’s the meaning of this meal and the symphony?” She studies me curiously, blushing.
Unable to control my body’s reactions, I… blush as well. “I don’t know where the music has come from. I told you; the servants have gone mad. I didn’t hire a band,” I explain, leaning forward on my elbows and covering my face.
“Oh.” She chuckles, softly. “Well, we can’t let such lovely music go to waste. And they did go to all that trouble. What do you say? Would you like to dance?”
“Me?!” I gasp. “Oh no. I loathe dancing.”
“Well, that’s a shame. I like dancing very much.” She smiles. “Come on. One dance?”
Grunting, I grab the decanter of red wine and empty the contents in my glass. “Well, that didn’t help,” I say, drinking every drop.
She grins and downs the rest of her wine as well before getting up and clutching the table. “Woo.” She chortles. “I’m a bit dizzy.”
She stumbles over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Vanilla and lavender bathes my senses. Groaning, I shut my eyes. Unlike our other nights together, I’m not certain how this one will end. I find myself, for the first time in a long time, unsure about getting exactly what I want. And it’s thrilling as I hang on to the hope that she’ll choose to share her body with me.
“Come on.” She rubs her soft cheek against my sharp beard. “Dance with me, you beast.”
