Dropping my chin in a single nod, Ollie stood, and together we walked away.
It hadn’t taken me long to realize it wasn’t worth it. Each step away from them felt lighter. What should have made me feel weak made me feel stronger.
Walking away made me stronger.
Ollie squeezed my hand. He didn’t have to say anything. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a social butterfly. You become the people you surround yourself with, and I decided losing a piece of my identity wasn’t worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Give me a love so intoxicating,
I never suffer ahangover.”
—Oliver Masters
Ollie.
EVER SINCE MIA HAD BEEN sleeping with me, she hadn’t experienced another night terror. If only I had known what she had been dealing with, maybe it wouldn’t have taken me so long to find my way back to her.
The way her body fit perfectly against me brought a morning smile to my lips. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know she was awake, too. It still blew my mind how early she woke, but the girl loved her bloody naps later in the day.
My stubborn eyes remained closed, making this small moment with her safe in my arms last for as long as possible. Mia’s faint breathing kissed my chest as my fingers wandered over her hips and her thighs.
And what came next was what I looked forward to every blessed morning.
Mia’s dainty finger fanned over my lashes, begging them to open, and I felt the essence of the smile I knew was wearing this very moment.
“Merry Christmas,” Mia whispered, and that same dainty finger traced over my nose, across my lips, and over my chest.
Crazy. A year from now we would be spending our Christmas in the home I’d prepared for us. She still didn’t know, and the restraint in telling her took every ounce of strength.
It was still dark, most likely close to six in the morning.
Her finger swirled over the pattern of ink in the middle of my chest, and I hummed in the power she had over me—a surge flowing from her fingertip igniting through my entire body.
“Where are you now, Ollie?”
My grin was an answer in its own, but in case she didn’t know … “With you.”
“What are we doing?” Her velvet tone was playful.
I wrapped my hands in her messy long hair and pressed my forehead to hers, inhaling her natural jasmine scent and etched the outline of her lips with mine. “Whatever the hell we want.”
And what came next was the product of her and I.
Every whisper, penetrating.
Every kiss against my skin, electrifying.
Every touch, ecstasy.
And moments without, a tragedy.
The effects of feeling too much, but with Mia, it wasn’t just too much. It was everything all at once. At times, I had to pause to reel back the emotion from spilling over, but Mia wanted to see, feel, taste, and be a part of me and every intimate moment we shared. Together, we were untouchable to anyone and anything—pain, misery, loneliness. Not even death could pierce through our barrier. The whole world could be crumbling beneath us, waves crashing into us, the sun falling toward us at an impossible rate, and it would all be okay because we had each other.
Hearts hammering, blood roaring, and feelings aflame, we let go.
And the lingering smile upon her lips afterward was the reminder of how terrified and relieved I was that we had made it this far. Terrified because we weren’t one hundred percent in the clear yet, but relieved we had right now.
