Page 48 of My Best Friend’s Earl (Bluestocking Booksellers #2)

His mouth covered hers in a hard kiss designed to take her by surprise, then released her.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he growled.

“When I say I love you, I mean it. It doesn’t matter where we are, or what is happening around us.

If I’m fucking you, or yelling and angry as a wet cat, or talking in my sleep, I still love you.

I adore every maddening inch of you, in any circumstance. ”

She kissed him this time, and he instantly turned greedy for more.

After a morning spent wondering if he’d ever taste her again, desperation lurked too close to the surface to control himself.

It was that deep primal instinct only she brought out that had him gathering her skirt toward her hips, then urging her to straddle him.

Within seconds, Constance unbuttoned his breeches, and he was home. His shout of relief was muffled against her chest, and he could die happily, just like that. “God, I love you,” he groaned.

Oliver lifted his gaze to hold hers, then sank his fingers into her hair. “You are everything I want. Do you believe me?”

Constance nodded, biting her lower lip as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Open your eyes. Tell me. I need to hear it.” One hand clutched her hip, pinning her on his cock.

“I believe you,” she gasped. Oliver canted his pelvis to hit a spot within her heat that had made her scream the night before. “I love you too.”

The need to hear more fought with his desire to feel her unravel around him. “Tell me,” he asked again.

“I love you. I crave you. Oh, God, keep doing that.”

The noises she made when he did as requested made his balls tighten.

Pressing their faces close, she panted above him and held herself still, while he kept flexing to hit that same place deep inside over and over.

“I love how much you care about everyone around you. I still don’t understand the myriad things you say prevent us from being together, but you can explain when you’re not doing— God, that . ”

“Later. I’ll explain later.” And he kept doing that .

Constance rocked on him in small shifts that made his eyes roll back in his head. But he couldn’t black out from pleasure, or dive into oblivion quite yet, because he’d asked his girl to talk, and she was doing exactly that, soothing insecurities while making him mad with desire.

“I love that you’re feral, with a filthy mouth underneath all that control.”

“Do you?” He moved aside her bodice until one gorgeous breast plumped over the top so Oliver could worship it the way it deserved. Flutters began massaging his cock. She was close.

“Every time I see you, I get wet,” Constance confessed, bringing his peak closer with the admission.

He released her nipple with a pop, then bit her bottom lip.

“Now I’m going to wonder if you’re slick every time we meet.

Tell me,” he growled, feeling his orgasm nearing.

“What gets wet for me? What do you call it? Your pussy?” A thrust. “Cunt?” Another thrust, and her walls clenched in earnest around him.

“Whatever we call it, it’s yours,” she managed before flinging her head back and riding out her pleasure.

It killed him to do it, but Oliver withdrew right before he spilled inside her.

They cuddled with her on his lap, just as they had in his study. Unlike that day, Connie’s body felt loose from their lovemaking, and Oliver looked deliciously rumpled.

His hand caressed her leg in lazy strokes. The sensation was so lovely, sleep pulled at her limbs. If she gave in, she’d miss this precious time. So she asked, “Can you explain the weather and the tenants? I want to understand.”

And he did. He told her about the plans he’d made to build a canal on his ancestral property that would help not only his estate, but also the surrounding area.

Except, the land was part of Althea’s dowry.

The vibration of his voice rumbled against her body as he laid out how he’d considered dowering Althea himself but couldn’t because of the expense involved with sourcing food in an increasingly dire situation.

By the time he finished, her heart ached for all the worries he carried.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“As it stands, it might be years before the estates recover. When we get home, I’m hoping to have letters from a few of my managers waiting for me. If everything works out, I’d like to present Althea with the plan I’ve devised before sharing the details with anyone else.”

Since it was Althea’s future at stake, it seemed right that she learn the intricacies first. Especially if it meant only waiting a few days more, Connie would be patient.

She nodded. “After the engagement ends, what do you want your future to be like?”

He tightened his arms around her. “This. I want this, and to know everyone depending on me is fed and safe. The rest is open for discussion. What do you imagine our future looking like?”

Our future. Hope forced a crack in yesterday’s conviction to love him well, but only for a short time.

“With Caro and Dorian becoming partners in the shop, we should be able to convince my parents to leave us Martin House. Caro offered to buy it outright if they need the funds to retire. While we will all be equal partners, the day-to-day operations would fall to me and Hattie.”

“May I ask if there’ll be time for us, when you take on running the business?”

A hesitant note in the question made her reach up and kiss the corner of his mouth. “There will always be time for you, Oliver.” His lips relaxed somewhat. “I don’t want a boring life, you see. Being busy doesn’t bother me.”

“What else do you want? Do you imagine marrying one day? Children?”

“If that’s where life takes me, then yes. But anyone in my neighborhood will tell you I’ve already run from one wedding. I don’t know if I’d want to plan another.”

“What about a mad dash for the border in the middle of the night, rather than a church and wedding breakfast? That’s the opposite of boring.”

She grinned. “You have the right idea.”

“What happened the first time? When you ran away.”

How strange to think they’d said I love you, before explaining these important points of their lives. The things he’d dealt with to free himself of the betrothal. Her reasons for ending her engagement at the last possible second.

Constance sank deeper against his chest. “Walter is a cloth merchant. At first, he seemed perfect in every way, which should have been my first clue that I wasn’t seeing him clearly.

” Oliver’s chuckle made her smile. “The courtship was short, and I ran headlong into planning the wedding. Our real problems began when he was traveling to the coast to meet with suppliers and said he might not return in time for the wedding.”

“When you say suppliers, you mean…”

“Smugglers, yes. Not the kind of delivery you can reschedule. I suggested we change the church date, then turn his trip into a sort of wedding trip. We fought. He wasn’t fair or kind when we argued.”

His arms tensed into iron bands, until Constance ran a soothing hand down his chest. “He didn’t lay a hand on me. You needn’t hurt the man in my defense, Oliver.”

A soft kiss landed on her head. “Go on, then.”

“What killed the relationship was realizing he never intended for me to join him on those adventures. He expected me to be home, doing wifely things, like making his meals, and birthing his babies, while he went off to court danger and consort with ruffians. I tried to resign myself to that. It’s what women do, after all.

In the end, I couldn’t go through with it.

Hattie and Caro hustled me out of that church and we ran. ”

Silence fell between them. For a few moments, there was only the rattle of coach wheels, thunder of hooves, jingling horse harnesses, and his heart thumping steadily at her ear.

“I hate that you’ve had to make difficult decisions. But I’m intensely grateful that this Walter character is an arse.”

She laughed, and Oliver dipped his head for a lingering kiss.