“Do you mean it?”The words come out hoarse, desperate.I need to hear it again.Need to be sure.
She kisses me.And again.And again.
And this time, when her lips meet mine, something in me snaps.
My arms wrap around her, and I haul her into my lap on the porch steps.One hand tangles in her hair, the other splays across her lower back, pressing her against me until there’s no space left between us.
I kiss her like I’m drowning and she’s air.
My tongue sweeps into her mouth, and she gasps against my lips.I swallow the sound, deepening the kiss until she’s trembling in my arms.Her fingers dig into my shoulders, then slide up into my hair, tugging hard enough to sting.
I groan against her mouth.Her taste floods my senses, sweet and intoxicating, and I can’t get enough.Her teeth graze my bottom lip, and I see stars.My hand tightens in her hair, controlling the kiss, taking everything she’s offering and demanding more.
When I finally tear my mouth away to kiss along her jaw, down her neck, she makes a sound that’s half gasp, half moan.Her pulse races under my lips, and I bite down gently, marking her, claiming her.
“Alexander,” she breathes, and my name has never sounded like that before.Wrecked and wanting.
I work my way back up to her mouth, slower this time but no less thorough.My lips brush against hers once, twice, teasing until she whimpers and pulls me back down.This kiss is slower, deeper, a promise of everything I want to do to her the moment we’re alone.
When she finally pulls away, we’re both breathing hard, clouds of breath mingling between us.Her lips are swollen and red, her eyes dark with desire, and she looks absolutely deliciously disheveled.
“What would you have said,” she asks, “if I’d said no to the proposal?”
I grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.“I would have kept asking.”She laughs, the sound breathless and beautiful, and kisses me again.Sweeter this time, but still with an underlying heat that makes my blood burn.
Then she leans back slightly, her fingers playing with the collar of my sweater, her voice dropping to something sultry.“Do you want to get a motel room tonight?”
Every coherent thought evacuates my brain.“Yes.”
She chuckles, mischief dancing in her eyes.“I wasn’t serious.”
“I am.”I’m already standing, pulling her to her feet with me, my hands still wrapped around her waist.The need to have her alone—properly alone—is overwhelming.“Wait here.”
“Alexander...”
But I’m already moving, practically jogging to the front door.Inside, the celebration is still in full swing.Dad and Bob are comparing golf swings, my mother and Carol are looking at photo albums, and Sophie is showing off something on her phone to a group of neighbors.
I grab my wallet from the entryway table, then Olivia’s jacket and my coat from the rack.
Sophie looks up as I pass.“Where are you going?”
“Olivia and I are going out for a couple hours,” I say, already heading back to the door.“Tell your Dad we’re borrowing his car.”
“Sure,” she calls after me, her tone suggesting she knows exactly what ‘going out’ means.“But you better be back for breakfast!Mom’s making her famous cinnamon rolls!”
I’m outside before she finishes the sentence.
Olivia is standing right where I left her, arms wrapped around herself against the cold, snowflakes catching in her dark hair.The Christmas lights cast colored shadows across her face, and she’s never looked more beautiful.
I hold out her jacket.“Let’s go.”
She stares at me for a moment, then bursts out laughing.“You’re actually serious.”
“Completely.”I help her into the jacket, my fingers lingering on her shoulders, then I shrug into my own coat before pulling her against me.My lips find hers again, and I kiss her once, hard and possessive, then pull back.“I love you, Olivia.And I’m tired of sharing you with our families tonight.”
Her eyes soften, that teasing glint replaced by something warmer, deeper.She reaches up, cupping my face in her cold hands.“Then what are we waiting for?”
I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together, and lead her toward Bob’s car.
