No hesitation.No pretty, careful edges.But wildfire.She tastes like adrenaline and tears and victory, and I want all of it.I kiss her back like a starving man and she moans into my mouth, needy and unashamed, and every promise I made myself about patience and taking it slow burns to ash.
“Olivia...”I manage, dragging just an inch of space between us before we test the structural integrity of the entire house.“We should...”
“I know,” she breathes, forehead touching mine.Her lips are swollen and sinful and she has no idea what she’s doing to me.“I just didn’t want the last thing in my skin to be him.”
My control snaps into razor focus.I cup her face.“You never have to justify wanting me.”
She huffs out a shaky laugh.“You’re so cocky.”
“I’m realistic,” I murmur, and brush my mouth over hers again because I’m weak and she’s oxygen.
A door clicks shut somewhere in the house.Silence hums, charged.
She’s still right there in my arms, warm and solid and alive, breathing like she just won a war.I press my forehead to hers.
“You did it,” I whisper.“You said no.”
She looks at me like I hung the damn sun.“Yeah.I did.”
Something wild flashes through her eyes and before I can brace, she backs me toward the wall, no fear and no apology.I go gladly.She fists my hoodie, drags me down again, and our mouths crash together.
No, this kiss is not sweet.It’s molten.
I groan into her mouth when she opens for me without reserve and thread my fingers into her hair, the other hand braced beside her head.I shift closer, thigh sliding between hers, and she gasps into me like she’s been waiting years to be touched like this.
“Careful,” I murmur against her lips, voice rough as gravel.“I’m not feeling particularly decent tonight.”
“Good,” she whispers.“I don’t need decent, I just need you.”
There goes the last thread of restraint.
I lift her without effort.She wraps her legs around me like she was always meant to fit there, soft curves pressing into every hard, aching inch of me.I grind slowly against her, the friction slow and obscene through too many clothes.She moans, unfiltered and unapologetic, and I nearly lose my goddamn mind.
“That’s it,” I groan.“Give me those sounds.I’ve been dreaming of this since the fire, Olivia.Since you looked at me like I was worth trusting.”
Her hands slide under my hoodie and that’s it, the world tilts.Her palms are warm against my skin, and my breath stutters out of me.I kiss down her throat, open-mouthed, tasting salt and heat and her pulse racing against my tongue.
“Feel that?”I rasp, thrusting my length against her covered pussy.“That’s what you do to me.You’re wrecking me, and I’m thanking you for the privilege.”
She rocks harder against me, chasing more, and my self-control is hanging by a thread.My hand slides under her shirt and up the silky line of her ribs.I pause just under her breast and wait.
She whispers, “Yes.”
Thank fuck.
I cup her fully and her head hits the wall softly as she gasps my name like a prayer she finally believes in.My thumb teases over her nipple through the fabric of her bra and she shudders, so close she’s shaking in my hands, rubbing against me like she finally trusts her own desire.
Then I stop.Completely.And it damn near kills me.
Her eyes fly open, wide and dazed.
“Not like this,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers while my body screams at me.“Not as fallout.Not because of him.”
Her body trembles with thwarted want, but she smiles, small, breathless, and alive.
“Okay,” she whispers.“Then just hold me?”
I exhale and laugh, helpless.“Always.”
