Chapter Nineteen
Robyn
Monday morning seemed to come around in a blur. I’d spent the best part of Saturday working my way through my wardrobe, trying to decide what to take with me to Barcelona, and most of Sunday being engulfed by Sasha as she tried to impart a lifetime of sexual experience onto me in a matter of hours. Not that I’d asked for her advice, but she had decided I needed to be “prepared” anyway. Thank God for the bottle of wine I had discovered in the cupboard. It was the only thing that had stopped me from throttling her.
Instead of making him come all the way up to our apartment to collect me, I had chosen to wait just inside the main entrance to our apartment block. Sasha, and her barely controlled eagerness, was also with me. Spot on ten a.m., there was a knock on the door which made my stomach flip with excitement.
Sasha squealed, hugged me tight, then gripped my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. ‘Have an amazing time, Rob. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. No pressure. What will be, will be! And hopefully that involves you, The Big Bad Wolfe, and lots of hot, hot sex!’ And having imparted that pearl of wisdom she landed a sloppy kiss on my cheek and dashed back towards the stairs.
Rolling my eyes at her retreating back, I took a calming breath, smoothed down my clothes, and pulled open the front door, only to freeze with my mouth hanging open.
I had never, ever, seen Oliver Wolfe dressed in anything other than a three-piece suit, but today he was gracing my eyes with a complete change; his feet were clad in black biker boots, worn grey jeans hung from his trim hips, and a white polo shirt clung to every muscle in his chest like it had been made to measure. Holy smokes. He was holding an umbrella up for me, too, and grinning with apparent delight, looking the most relaxed I’d ever seen him. He was so hot I couldn’t get my brain to reengage so I could say hello.
‘Good morning, Robyn.’ Leaning in, he performed his usual kiss to my cheek, but this time it felt different; his lips paused on my skin as they often did, but then they drifted lower, almost but not quite skirting the edge of my mouth. I could have sworn I heard him take a breath, too, as if breathing me in.
Well, this was certainly a nice welcome.
Stepping back, I ran my gaze over him and then kick-started my tongue into use. ‘Good morning. Wow.’ Damn, I hadn’t meant to say the “wow” out loud, but Oliver’s smile only seemed to increase, so I shrugged it off and continued. ‘You look …’ Hot. Relaxed. Sexy as hell. Completely and utterly fuckable … ‘So different.’
‘And you look very beautiful. As always.’
OK. This was all starting off in a vastly different way to how I had been expecting. Not that I was complaining, I’d take compliments from Oliver all day long, but seeing as he’d said it was a business trip I’d sort of expected him to be suited and serious. I’d been wrong, and I’d never been happier with that fact.
‘Let John take your bag,’ Oliver murmured, just as a bald man in a suit appeared beside him. After giving me a brief smile and nod, John took my case and disappeared off down the steps, leaving Oliver and me to follow.
It was tipping it down with rain, but with Oliver sheltering me under the umbrella and the car just by the curb, I barely even got wet, and within seconds we were sliding into the back seats.
‘I must apologise. I should have given you a little more idea of the direction we would take on this trip.’ Clipping his seat belt in place, he turned more fully to face me, and I used the moment to absorb his transformation into the casual man now sitting beside me. ‘I have a little business in the city, but apart from that I was hoping we could just use the trip to get to know each other more. Keep things relaxed? Just enjoy yourself. If you wish to go to Fantasia one night, we can, but if not, that’s fine too. Sound OK?’
‘Sounds perfect.’ I was so excited I practically gushed my reply. Relaxed sounded great to me, especially if it meant Oliver being as lovely as he currently was. ‘What’s Fantasia?’
He smiled, nodding his head. ‘Sorry, yes, it’s the club in Barcelona I mentioned, run by my childhood friend Matías. Its full name is Fantasias Traviesas, but everyone shortens it.’ The way the Spanish rolled from his tongue almost made me quiver with delight.
‘What does it mean?’
Oliver smirked, his smile darkening into something far more wicked, and then leaned in close to my ear. ‘Naughty Fantasies.’ His breath fluttered across my skin, causing a skittering of goose pimples to pop up along my neck. I flared my nostrils as I drew in a deep breath. Naughty Fantasies. How very appropriate. Since I’d met him, I’d had so many naughty fantasies about Oliver I could hardly keep track any more, and judging from the gleam in his eye, Oliver had guessed as much.
‘We may need to act a little differently in the club, if we attend,’ added Oliver, his tone dipping slightly.
‘I’d quite like to see it,’ I admitted, ‘but what do you mean about acting differently?’
‘It’s not quite as restrained as Club Twist. Sometimes the Spaniards – well, they can be quite passionate, quite ardent in their advances … I should know, I’m one of them.’ He chuckled. ‘If they see a pretty new girl in the club, you will be surrounded in seconds. I know we’re just friends at present, but it will be better for you if you say you are with me. No one will bother you then.’
‘Oh … OK.’ Two things rang in my mind as we were driven to the airport – the fact that I would be his for the week, in the eyes of the other club goers at least, and the way he’d said we were just friends, but then added the “at present” bit, which had sounded decidedly like he considered it a temporary title.
Would we be more than friends by this time next week?
The drive to the airport was swift, as was check-in, and after a mere two-hour flight we were pushing our way through a crowded arrivals lounge at Barcelona’s El Prat airport.
Crowds of men in maroon and blue Barcelona football shirts were singing and messing around as they collected their bags, and they were being so boisterous that at one point I got shoved sideways by them. In a flash, Oliver was facing off against one of them, his shoulders bristling with tension as he snapped something in Spanish. Then he took my hand to pull me away from them. My eyes widened at his display, but I couldn’t deny that his protective behaviour was actually quite thrilling.
Over the following five minutes I became more and more alert with each passing second. Oliver seemed completely unaware, but since the run-in with the football fans at baggage claim, he still hadn’t let go of my hand. I was trying to copy his cool, calm demeanour and appear nonchalant about this new progression to walking hand-in-hand status, but all I could focus on was the heat coursing around my system from his touch. My body was buzzing blissfully, and the feeling was starting to make me a bit unsteady on my feet.
As we paused to flag down a taxi, I stared down at our joined hands, then lifted my gaze to find Oliver watching me carefully. His eyes also flicked to our entwined fingers, then back at me. He gave a small squeeze of his hand, but did not let go. ‘My apologies. I enjoy having contact with you, and I forgot myself. Is this OK?’
Was it? What did it mean when a guy who wanted me to submit to him suddenly started holding my hand? Talk about confusing messages. I couldn’t deny that I liked the way it felt and was enjoying his touch, though, so I shrugged and gave a small smile. ‘Um, yeah. Sure.’
Oliver grinned at my agreement, and gave my hand another squeeze before opening the door to a cab and helping me inside. As soon as we were belted up and on our way, he took hold of my hand again, leaving me sitting in stunned silence to marvel at the compete change in him since we’d begun this trip.
As Oliver had promised, we had separate rooms in the hotel – the very plush hotel, the cost of which he point blank refused to let me contribute to – although I did note that there was an adjoining door between our suites. Upon checking, this was unlocked. After discovering this, I spent a moment with my hand on the doorknob, wondering what that meant. Was it just a slip by the hotel? Or had Oliver had requested it be left open? And if he had, what did that mean?
After spending a minute getting myself worked up, I forced myself to dismiss it, and decided to try to do as Sasha had instructed and see how the week played out.
On the drive to the hotel we had agreed that we would take a trip to Fantasia tonight, which, I had to admit, was already getting me quite excited, but before that we were sightseeing, an equally tantalizing prospect.
After quickly freshening up, we set off, and it was immediately obvious just how at home Oliver was in the city. It was like getting a glimpse at some alter ego that he had kept hidden up until now; he was completely relaxed and smiling almost non-stop. His posture was perfect, as always, but it was more fluid, somehow, and he had a visible spring in his step. He was also still in his dressed-down state of jeans and a T-shirt, this time paired with a blazer, which was a sight I could certainly become rather fond of, if given the opportunity. On top of all of this, he held my hand at every available opportunity.
As we paused at an outdoor café opposite the cathedral Sagrada Família for our second coffee of the day, I discreetly watched Oliver as he chatted in Spanish with the café owner about something, and realised that I’d had a strange tightness in my chest for the best part of the morning. I’d been attracted to him from day one, but now, spending time with him like this, seeing this more relaxed side to him, and being the almost complete focus of his attention, I had a distinct feeling that I’d been right in my suspicions the other day – I was well on the way to falling for him.
As I took a sip of my coffee, I chewed nervously on my lip and tried to quell my panic. The big question was, if I did indeed fall for him, would Oliver catch me, or walk away?