Page 26 of Growing Memories (Valley of Sylveren #2)

Chapter Fifteen

It wasn’t all in his head. Eunny was interested, too.

Ollas hadn’t imagined it. The way she’d touched him.

Caressed his face. Ollas was mostly sure she’d been flirting, not that he was ever a good judge of such things.

But he’d swear by every god in the Empyrean Court that she’d been about to kiss him before he’d attacked her with his face.

Not that he was good at judging those likelihoods, either.

And then he’d almost fucked it all up, giving in to his baser desires like the godsdamned animal she’d proclaimed him to be.

Though, Eunny hadn’t exactly seemed to mind. Ollas felt a certain kind of satisfaction knowing that he’d surprised her. Pleasantly so.

I am going to need to be prepared.

It had taken every scrap of strength he possessed not to blow his load right then and there.

The interest was mutual, no doubt there.

But since she’d left and Ollas had had a moment for his blood to flow somewhere besides straight to his dick, doubt had set in.

Eunny said later , but how long was that?

Was it too presumptuous to go by that same night?

Gransen said no, but Gransen also possessed no shame.

Plus, Eunny was moving. Unpacking. Maybe she’d want some time to get settled.

Ollas had been fantasizing about this day for years, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Eunny’s interest was much more recent.

Hard to tell. Her outgoingness, the jokes, her wickedly arousing teasing, they’d had that kind of lighthearted friendship for years.

But that was just who Eunny was—it had never become anything more, and Ollas had been such a chickenshit he’d never had the nerve to make a move.

He’d been content with being friends, his pining kept quietly under wraps.

Until now. If he ruined everything, if she left Sylveren because of him, what then?

Ollas made the grave error of voicing some of those fears aloud, prompting Gransen to forcibly eject him from their room with a meaningful, “A gentleman is always prepared.”

Which Ollas was not, and a trip to the university’s student-run mercantile had given him a whole host of new things to agonize over.

What kind of contraceptive potion to acquire?

One made by a Magister level, to be sure, but flavor?

They’d been living together—sort of—for over a month now, but Ollas promptly forgot everything about what Eunny seemed to like.

The variety pack seemed a safe choice, but multiple potions, gods, as if showing up the same day wasn’t forward enough.

Arriving at her door looking like he was set for a very good time…

Ollas wouldn’t blame her if she slammed it in his face instead.

He’d started to put the quartet of slim bottles back on the shelf, but then the thought of how Eunny had laughed flickered through his head. Her wicked glee at his… enthusiasm. He wanted it again. Wanted to be the one who brought her such delight, always.

The thought of tasting honey or three different types of fruit and berries on her lips was a motivator, too. The kind that had him pulling the fronts of his cloak close so he didn’t risk embarrassment in the student store.

It had only been a couple of hours since Eunny had left. Far too soon to make an appearance. Ollas returned to the Grove, but when he went to open his door, it hardly budged.

“What the—?” Ollas tried again. A sliver of light appeared as the door opened a crack, thudding against something solid. “Granse? What happened to?—”

“Olly, beloved, please,” Gransen’s voice floated through the door. “Do not be a fool.”

Muttering under his breath, Ollas put his shoulder against the wood and pushed. He didn’t gain much, just enough to see that Gransen had piled a bunch of their shit on the other side, before the gremlin shoved back and the door closed once more.

“Gransen!”

Stranded out in the corridor, Ollas felt a prickle of concern as a few of the other residents went by. The bottle-filled sack hanging from his arm clinked in the tell-tale way that such glass bottles did, drawing more than one glance his way as Ollas tried to force the door in a nonchalant manner.

“Everything all right, Nevin?” his next-door neighbor asked.

“Yea, it’s great, everything’s great. Just Granse’s idea of a joke, you know how?—”

“If your dick’s not wet, you’re not?—”

Godsdamn motherfucking… “I’m going, you bastard,” Ollas hissed.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he ducked out, stuffing the bag into his cloak pocket.

The walk to Belle Complex had never felt so long in Ollas’s life.

If he’d been in a more rational state of mind, he’d recognize that it only took around fifteen minutes because it took all his self-control not to run the distance.

Or turn around and slink back home, except that Gransen had removed that as an option.

Anticipation had him by the throat. By turns, it morphed between excitement and waves of insecurity. Ollas knew he made an amusing sight, shifting between an assured, steady pace and staggering nearly to a halt as indecision turned his boots to lead.

He forced himself on until, somehow, he was standing outside Eunny’s door.

A stroke of luck, his finding it in the first place, since he’d only realized once arriving at Belle that she hadn’t given him a unit number.

But he’d seen the assortment of teapots and cups she loved arranged on a windowsill, their mishmash of colors bright against the drawn curtains.

Taking a deep, steadying breath that did nothing for his nerves, Ollas knocked on the door.

The shuffling of feet and muted thump of a crate and flesh and the wall all making contact drifted through the wood to reach Ollas’s ears. As did the grumbled curse that followed. He was covering a smile behind his hand when Eunny appeared in the doorway, standing on one leg as she rubbed her foot.

Her wince vanished at the sight of him, replaced by a mischievous grin. “Hello, stranger.”

“Is it too soon?” he asked, his voice wobbling.

Slowly, Eunny’s eyebrows went up, her grin sliding into a smirk.

“We didn’t, um… I can always come back later,” he said, voice tapering off.

She was dressed simply in the long yellow tunic vest she favored worn over a plain linen skirt.

In the room beyond, Ollas glimpsed her things scattered about in a manner that suggested she’d abandoned unpacking midway through the process.

Her tea apparatus was scattered across a countertop, next to the water propagation glasses with a few cuttings from the delegation plants. Otherwise, the room was mild chaos.

Stepping closer, Eunny reclaimed his full attention as her hand wrapped around the front of his shirt.

She pulled him down to kiss him, tongue darting out to tease his lips.

His mouth moved of its own volition, reaching, but she drew back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, voice going husky.

“You were saying something about leaving?”

“Not anymore.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Eunny backed up a step, then another, head tilting to the side in silent question. Ollas followed, kicking the door shut behind him. His boots joined hers beside the door. The cloak went next, Ollas pausing long enough to remove the plain mercantile bag.

The unmistakable jingle of the glass bottles inside sounded loud in the quiet.

Eunny’s new lodging was a cozy single, the design open but with plenty of space-conscious storage options.

She sat on her bed, leaning back on her hands as she watched him.

Thanks to the drawers built into the bed frame, her feet didn’t touch the ground.

Perfect. He was easily half a head taller than her; nice to know he wouldn’t have to break his back to fuck her bent over the side.

The thought had him stiffening. Made his trousers feel tight. Constricting.

Eunny’s gaze dipped down, eyes crinkling at the corners as her lips curved ever upward. “Did you bring me something?” She pointed with her chin toward the bag clutched in his hand.

A self-conscious laugh bubbled up as Ollas pulled the cloth sides down to reveal the upper halves of the vials. All four of them.

Eunny snorted. “You planning to move in?”

“No, I-I wasn’t— I didn’t know if, if I should—” Ollas’s hand shook as he tried to cover the bottles again, knocking one over in the process.

“I’m kidding. Give ’em here.” Eunny held out her hands.

Red-faced, Ollas handed her the bag.

She made an appreciative sound as she surveyed the labels. “My favorite kind of housewarming gift.” Her eyes cut back to him. Swept up and down, taking the measure of him. “Maybe my second favorite.”

“Maybe?” Ollas went to his knees in front of her.

“Too soon to tell.” Eunny caressed him with her bare foot. “You do look good down there.”

She popped the cork on the closest vial and downed it before tossing the glass aside.

A tremor ran through his hands as he lifted them toward her legs. Her skin was warm. Soft. Ollas let his fingers skim along her calves, hesitant. He met her eyes. “Offerings for my goddess.”

She laughed, scooting up enough to push the skirt off her hips. The fabric pooled at his knees. Bare flesh greeted him.

At his surprised look, Eunny shrugged one shoulder. “I figured you were coming by.” Her foot hooked beneath his arm, pulled him a touch closer. “I hoped you would.”

The final vestiges of trepidation, of so many years filled with yearning and doubt, fell away. Awe and relief rushed up to take their place. And hunger—so much of that.

Ollas put his lips to her calf, her knee, her thigh. Lingered there, kissing her tender skin as he inhaled. She was intoxicating. Her scent alone made a quiet groan rumble deep in his chest.

“Is this how Little Nev prayed at the Altar of Song?” Eunny teased, her eyes intent on him.