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Chapter Eleven
Oliver stared into Mia’s worried gaze and he couldn’t fight it any longer. He hated seeing the constant doubt flickering over her features, so sure the hurt she’d caused him so long ago was unforgivable.
Did it still sting that she’d left him behind to chase a career? Yeah, a little bit.
Was he going to let that minor sting stop him from doing the one thing he’d wanted to do from the moment Dave had pulled back her hoodie and revealed her gorgeous face to him after so goddamn long without her?
Fuck no.
As his lips crashed against Mia’s, he slid his hands down her back and tugged her closer, pulled her body into his and let her feel exactly how much he wanted her. Hell, his cock had been rock hard through most of dinner, watching the pure delight on her face as she’d enjoyed her meal. He wondered how long it had been since she’d indulged herself and eaten foods her training told her to avoid.
Too fucking long if the disappointment he’d read in her eyes when her bowl was empty was anything to go by. She wasn’t in the army anymore. She didn’t need to stick to such joyless restrictions. He’d feed her carbs every day if it made her happy.
“Ollie,” she moaned, ripping open his shirt and attacking his neck and lower, sucking and biting a path along his collarbone until she sank her teeth into his shoulder.
Sliding his hand into her hair, he held her to him, savoured the sting of her teeth before feeling her lips and tongue as she sucked on his flesh and marked his body. Left her claim on him for everyone to see.
“Sweetling, yes.”
But then she stopped and pulled away, tilted her head and furrowed her brow. Delicate fingertips traced over the tattoo on his chest. “What does it mean?”
Oliver captured her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, pressed a kiss to them, then placed her hand back on his chest. “It’s the Helm of Awe, a symbol of protection.”
“Protection from what?”
“Anyone who would wish me harm, either physical, spiritual… or emotional.” Mia tried to pull away but he grabbed her hand and pressed it flat over the tattoo, then laid his hand on top of hers. Keeping her close. He knew what she was thinking. What was it going to take to convince her he was okay, that she’d not done anything wrong. “You didn’t wish me harm, Mia.”
“I may not have wished for it, but I hurt you just the same. Why aren’t you more pissed off at me?”
“I told you, life’s too short to hold grudges.” He slid his free arm around her waist again and began swaying her in time to the music. “Would you feel better if Iwaspissed off at you?”
Mia chewed on her lip, then shook her head. “No,” she grumbled.
“Would you feel better if I told you I forgive you?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Yes,” she whispered, her expression contorted with desperation. Her voice was tainted with it too and he wanted to crush it for her. The last thing she should feel with him was desperate.
“Done,” he said. Over. Simple.
But Mia never could resist arguing, even when she was winning. “What do you mean ‘done’? It can’t be that easy.”
A slow grin spread across Ollie’s face as he stared down at her. “You really don’t understand how this whole forgiveness thing works, do you?” He stopped swaying and cupped her cheeks. “Mia, I know why you did what you did and I forgive you for it. Fuck, I forgave you a long time ago.”
“But… how? Why?”
“Louisa.” The song changed and Oliver pulled Mia into another dance. “I spent a lot of time with her in the couple of years before she passed, helped her sort through the house and get it ready for you.” He smiled down at her. “She told me everything, sweetling.”
Mia jerked in his arms, tried to escape him again—stubborn wench—but he wouldn’t let her retreat.
He wouldn’t let her run away this time.
“Talk to me, Mia. Please. Let me in. You don’t have to go through everything alone.”
When she finally spoke, she whispered so softly he barely heard her over the music. “What did mum tell you?”
“That you were contemplating staying in Melville’s Cross instead of joining up. That she feared you’d make the same mistake she made at that age and give up your dreams for a man. For me. She told me she loved your dad with all her heart, but she regretted passing up the opportunity to study piano at the Conservatorium in Sydney, that she’d diminished her own dreams to fit into your father’s lifestyle. She wanted better for you, and told me she pushed you to leave earlier than you’d planned, to go while I was away for the weekend, and that’s why you didn’t say goodbye.”
“She never told me you knew that. She only ever said you popped around for tea sometimes, to play the piano with her. Ollie, I… I don’t know what to say. I was scared.”
