Page 39 of Burning Embers
When he sees me, he drops it to his chest, his eyes working over my body, making me squirm.
“Come here,” he says, and I gingerly walk around the bed until I’m level with him. He holds up his arm, ushering for me to join him. I do, curling into the crook of his neck.
“Want me to read some more Frankenstein?”
“What if I fall asleep?”
“I’ll wake you.” He reaches for the book, fingers through some pages, and then picks up where we left off.
His voice is a rich baritone—one I don’t think I’d ever get tired of, and so I listen as he reads. He never stumbles once, and I wonder out loud, “How many times have you read this book?”
His small chuckle vibrates through his chest, then through me, and I smile. “I don’t know…I’ve lost count.”
His shoulder moves with a shrug, and I lean up to rest my chin in my hand. “But why? What is it about this book in particular?”
He lays it down on the other side of him, worrying his lip before his finger traces my arm. “After the fire… When I finally went back to school, I got a lot of shit because of my scars.” I’m angry on little Olly’s behalf. Kids can be cruel. He continues, stroking my arm as he speaks, “Anyway, they started calling me Frankenstein—saying I was a monster. I remember the day I broke down at home, crying about it after I popped the boy in the nose at school. My mum, well, she shook her head and told me to help her look for something. After digging through some boxes, she pulled out a book—Frankenstein. She said we were going to read it every night after dinner, and we did.” He taps my nose and my cheeks warm when his hand comes to rest on my thigh, his thumb circling the fabric of my bottoms.
The air has an edge to it now. I lean up and give him a chaste kiss on the lips, but pull back, wanting him to continue.
The side of his mouth turns into half a smile. “Anyway, it turned out Frankenstein was the doctor—not the monster—and the monster was more human than the doctor ever could be.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
RACHEL
When I rouse from a foggy sleep, a feather-like caress is moving up and down my arm. First thing I notice is the ache in my body and the pain around my eye.
“Let’s get you fed, and then you can take something for the pain. I’m sure you’re hurting,” Olly says, soft.
I go to look at my wrist to see what the time is but keep forgetting I don’t have it anymore. I reach for Olly’s.Shit.I conked out for almost two hours.
“Where’s your watch?” he asks, tracing the tan line over my wrist, causing the fine hairs on my arms to stand to attention.
“In the shop,” I reply—it’s not a lie, technically. I swallow, hoping he doesn’t pry. He tilts my chin up and checks over my face.
But instead of speaking, he leans over and kisses me with familiarity and a softness I’ve never felt before. My entire body on high alert as his fingers grip my head, deepening the kiss. At this moment, I’m lost to him, floating between reality and hope, of possibilities, of what’s to come.
He groans, and the sound causes my lower stomach to tighten. A deep longing pools between my thighs. Easing myself over him, I half straddle his lap, my hand roaming up and under his t-shirt.
He pulls back, his eyelids heavy.“You’re so beautiful.” His words steal my breath away because I know he means it, and the knowledge that he believes it has me believing, too.
“You are,” I reply, which sounds so corny, but he must like my response because I’m rewarded with his mouth on mine again.
When our lips separate, our breathing is heavy, and my lips are swollen and tender. I whisper into his chest, “I like you, Olly.”
His fingers trail over the length of my back, hand coming to a stop on my arse as he gives it a tight squeeze. “Good, because the feeling is mutual, Princess.”
My stomach grumbles in response, and he laughs.
After we’ve eaten, there’s a hammering on the front door. Olly follows Buster out to answer it, and I hear a familiar voice—Marcus.
“Is she here?”
I hear the annoyance in his tone and jump to my feet, headed for the hallway. When he looks over Olly’s shoulder and sees my face, he shoves past him and rushes me, grabbing the tops of my arms, his eyes accessing my face.
“What the fuck?” He bares his teeth, and his eyes protrude as he lets go, spinning back towards Olly. “What the fuck happened? Did you do this?”
I cup Marcus’s shoulder. “Of course, he didn’t. It was an accident,” I say, trying to get his attention.
