Page 35 of Burning Embers
RACHEL
I hadn't felt that confident since before Molly came along, but I just knew I had to kiss him. Even if it was to see if the one we shared earlier was a fluke, which it was not. He kisses with raw honesty, want, desire. I've never felt that before.
I tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ears as he clears his throat. "How about we have a quick round of questions, taking turns?"
"Okay, you can ask first."
He taps his glass with his index finger. "Oh, I have one. What colour best describes your personality?"
I laugh. "That's a good one." I bite my lip and think. "Purple," I reply.
He nods. "Stability of blue and the fierceness of red, I can see that."
"Is your given name Olly or Oliver?"
"Oliver."
Taking a bite of food, he ponders his next question for me. "What is one thing that you would like to accomplish in your lifetime?"
I swallow my food and take a sip of my wine. "Wow, this got deep fast," I say.
"You don't have to answer anything you don't want to."
His eyes hold mine, and I know I'll answer every question he throws at me. "I'd like to have an art studio." He is one of the only people outside of my immediate family and Marcus who knows about my art, so I don't see the point in holding back from him.
"I'd love to see that," he replies, sipping his wine.
We both eat some more, and then my question comes to me. "What is your biggest fear?"
He clears his throat, his shoulders tense. His fingers on the glass tighten, and I worry he might break it. "Becoming a monster like my biological father."
I gasp. "Not possible. I don't know him. But what I do know about you…it's impossible. You are a good man, Olly."
His cheeks redden ever so slightly, and he shrugs it off. "It's up for interpretation."
"No. It's not. Do you think I would have you around my daughter or me if I had even the faintest suspicion you weren’t? Anyway, it's your turn to ask me." I don't want to linger.
He finishes his last mouthful of food; I still have half a plate left, but I'm full. I push it away and pick up my glass to wait.
"How did you celebrate your last birthday?"
I clear my throat. "I didn't."
His eyes go wide. "What do you mean, you didn't? When was it?"
"The day I came to the gym for my first self-defence class."
He stands up and walks towards me, holding out his hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet and into his body. Bending his knees, he brings his lips to my ear and whispers, "Happy belated Birthday, Princess." And then his lips move to my cheek where he plants a soft kiss.
"Let's go sit," I say.
"What about clearing this up?"
I shake my head. "I can do it later." I take his hand with my free one, and he reaches for his glass as we make the short distance to the living room.
"What's the best thing you've ever tasted?"
"Apart from you?" he asks, and I swear I have to squeeze my thighs together. He winks but this flirty is not the same kind I've seen him use at the bar; this is a whole other side to him, and the more I get to see, the more I crave. "Lemon drizzle cake my mum made for me the year I went to live with them."
