Just to Have You (Blackwood & Friends #3)

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Ben: "You know what – hic- your problem is? You have not tried it again. You need to try it again... hic... and you will undershtand what you – hic- are missing."

Griff, holding on the table for life support: "I told you! I do not like eating meat anymore! I am quite sure I will not miss it, I believe I have done well enough without it!"

Ben: "Meat? Hah! Wait. What are we talking about?"

(B & G conversation 4 hours prior)

Amy lurched upright, a startled gasp strangled from her throat, and her heart was beating erratically within her chest.

It took her several moments to register her location through her disorientated and spinning mind before the nausea roiled through her stomach and threatened to emerge. A pounding had begun steadily against her temples and she groaned long and hard.

Damn Mr Stuart's poorly made cider!

Her throat worked hardily to quell the bile burning her stomach at the same time a very peeved, hoarsely ragged groan came from beside her, a muscular arm draping over her waist and hauling her back against her pillows.

Simultaneously, a knocking originated against her wooden door from the other side and Amy's world began to crash around her with a panic that was only manageable after a night of over-indulgence that amplified the anxiety the day after- for her at least. She hated consuming too much of the substance purely because of how wretchedly pathetic she felt the following day... and right now she was feeling very sorry for herself, though she could scarcely remember why.

"Amy! I thought we were to leave within the hour? Are you alright? Odd that you're still abed at this time!" her mother's concerned voice followed the hammering that seemed to want to split her skull in two.

"Shortly, mother, I shall attend you!" she hollered, her voice a husky, raspy mess.

The arm about her waist tightened, yanking her closer to a decidedly hot muscular body. The shock of auburn hair that suddenly began to nuzzle against her shoulder and move down to her breast made her mercifully realise that it was Oliver, though clearly he seemed to believe he had someone else in his arms entirely.

Her mother cackled gleefully from the other side. "I noticed you came home rather late last night, making quite the racket in the kitchen. Whatever did you cook? There is egg and flour everywhere and only Oliver-"

"Mother!" Amy whined, simultaneously endeavouring to shrug a face off her breast and ward her persistent mother away from the door. "I will be down shortly, please!"

"Alright, alright! I am simply excited, is all. I will have the tea ready." The sounds of her footsteps disappearing and then the pained little grunts she made as she descended the steps followed her words and Amy's heart ached for her, knowing what an effort it was for Heather to climb the stairs in the first place.

His fingers were curling in the fabric of her hips and Amy belatedly noted she hadn't even bothered donning a nightgown in her state of inebriety. Her muddied gown lay in a pile on the rug before her beg, along with a mound of other clothes belonging to a male. Horrified, she glanced at Oliver. The coverlet clung over their waists, the top part of his revealed him to be unclothed, and his skin was the colour of light beige as it lay exposed half across her body, his shoulder scattered with a sanding of darker freckles, and his back and flank neatly corded with lean muscle. She shifted against him, surprised by the quickening of her heart at the sight of him curling around her, the sight of his long, firm fingers spanning along her waist, lightly dusted with dark hair-