Measuring Love
- Reads 10,333
- Votes 170
- Parts 21
MatureOngoing3h 6m
Last published Mon, Jun 18, 2018
"Elizabeth, Which one looks best? White or blue?" I sighed and looked up from my computer.
"The blue one Christopher" he grinned and peeled off the white shirt that covered his beautifully sculpted upper half. I never got tired of that sight. He cleared his throat making me snap out of my little fantasy.
"Can you help me with this tie, it's bloody impossible?" I chuckled and stood up before moving towards his tall frame.
I finally stood before him and reached my hands up to sort the material hanging loose around his neck, I felt his well defined torso under the blue shirt that now covered his body, my fingers shook as I wondered what it would be like to feel his skin under my hands. His face was that close to mine that I felt his warm breath on my skin, causing a shiver to run down my spine. His muscular arms folded around my waist, large hands spread out over the expanse of my lower back pulling me closer.
My breath caught in my throat as I looked up and saw his gorgeous, sparkling blue eyes staring into mine with so much affection that if he wasn't holding me I'm afraid I'd be a pile on the cold tiles. His face neared mine and as his lips brushed mine he whispered the one name I never imagined he would.
"Elizabeth" My eyes closed under his spell and I felt myself moulding into his embrace. My lips were an inch away from his own, so I moved that little bit further and-
"Elizabeth!"
Oh Fuck.
Elizabeth Harper is a 23 year old costume designer from London. She had worked for many people on many T.V shows and films, but none like him. He was something else, he was the one who made the butterflies flutter in her stomach when her name fell from his lips, the one who's smile always cheered her up even when she was in the shittiest mood.
One problem. He's not the man she is marrying.
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Oliver looked on amazed as his witch dipped a little backwards, his hand still had a light grip on her upper arm. To an onlooker it would seem like they were in the midst of a slow dance. Oliver kept on watching as her lips uplifted themselves into a pleased smile. Her nose crinkled as another snowflake joined the first one. Her one had stretched out to catch the shiny, multicolored cloud particles. Soon, her woolen cap also got decorated with snow. She sighed out a smokey breath with her eyes fluttering close in the bliss of this moment. And the sight took Oliver's breath away. 'You...,' Oliver mumbled, 'You look...' 'What?' Elli hummed closing her eyes, the smile was still there and so was her addictive bliss. Oliver didn't know his mouth had parted open slightly, he felt a thirst like never before engulfing his very being. 'You look...,' He tried again, a lump was forming in his throat. Hearts beat in rhythm and they beat together fast, it was as if they would keep it up like that until they could combust hand in hand. But Oliver forced himself to return back to reality. Getting a grip of himself, he finished his dangerous sentence finally. 'You look like Santa Claus!' Or what else? Oliver mentally chastised himself for even thinking of saying it aloud that she looked beautiful indeed, absolutely gorgeous, like an angel of mischief, a true witch - a white, beautiful one in that case. He couldn't risk saying all that to her and inflate her already oversize ego bag, he couldn't bear having her walk all over him in pride and... whatever. Elli gasped and stood straighter now, her outstretched hand in it's own accord landed straight on his chest, right over his heart in a - what was supposed be a punishing slap. Oliver hissed. 'This acidity!' *You're Still The One, Book 3* ~~It's difficult for them to be with each other, but then, it's also difficult for them to be without each other. ~~
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