His fingers grip my hair tight. So tight I can almost feel the tension headache forming as my mouth finds its home beneath his ear, and he groans.
“Sloane…” His voice is like honey. Sweet and thick. I’m tempted to make him scream it. Right here against the door where anyone can see.
And that’s the thought that stops me, dead in my tracks.
I pull my lips from his neck, my eyes flicking up. I don’t see any cameras, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.
Oliver’s breath comes in heavy and labored, and I still feel the twitch of his cock against my leg. His chest rises and falls and I feel his gaze flash to my mouth as he sucks in a breath.
“Apologies,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to—”
Oliver’s lips part, his bottom lip plump and juicy, begging to be sucked. Bitten.
I swallow hard, tryingnotto think about taking it between my teeth.
“I know,” he whispers. “It’s… fine.”
His little utterance of that word—fine—cuts sharper than a knife. Because I know it’snotfine.
“We can’t.” I clear my throat.
“I know," he says, his voice barely a whisper.
And then I feel him. His fingers trace the edge of my shirt collar with a gentleness no man should be capable of possessing.
Oliver touches me like I am made of glass. Like one wrong move will shatter me completely.
And perhaps there is truth in that.
“But…”
A hopeless sigh escapes me as his fingers slide down my collar, grazing over the buttons on my shirt. His watch shifts, clunking against my chest.
“No one has to know.” His voice is dark but strangely melancholy.
“Oliver…”
His green gaze finds mine. “I won’t tell anyone.” He swallows. “I swear.”
I should not believe him. But then I think back to earlier. I’d told him I’dtestedhim because I needed to know the truth. I needed to know if he would do as I asked or if he was a liar.
I know it makes no sense, but something tells me Oliver is not a dishonest person. And though my little rabbit can bite, he is not like my ex.
He is not Robert.
I look at Oliver in the orange light pouring from above us, from the porch light. His kiss-swollen lips, his big, green eyes that beckon me with innocence and sin.
“I know," I say as I step closer to him. His breath is softer. Almost even.
My heart beats like a drum in my chest.
Oliver’s hand finds my arm, and he gently trails his fingers up and down my jacket. Down my exposed forearms.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything," he says carefully. “It can be our little secret.”
Something passes in his eyes. Something I can’t quite place.
“Our little secret, hmm?” I say, my gaze drifting to his neck. The urge to wrap my hand around his throat again is prevalent. The monster inside me has tasted freedom, and he wants more.
