But no,I should have pushed him away.
My body and mind were at war with each other, and because of it, I couldn’t come up with a solution, an answer, or the right way to go about this.
That sweet spot between my legs was on fire in the most delicious way. It was begging me to touch it. Begginghimto touch it. The little voice that told me to stop whatever was happening faded away. As much as I should have listened, I didn’t want to.
I ached to be bold, daring,wanted.
He pulled one of the sleeves of my dress free, letting itloosely dangle down my arm, and pressed a kiss lower, this time swirling his tongue against me. “The one who’s tasted you.”
“I don’t?—”
“Shhh,” he hummed, grabbing hold of the back of my neck and keeping it steady. His wet tongue slid from the front of my neck, up the center of it, and stopped before reaching my bottom lip.
I managed to say his name, except it came out like more of a whimper. “Weston.”
“His name has never sounded as good on your lips as mine. If you thrive off the truth, that’s about as honest as it gets, sweetheart.”
My eyes fluttered shut. I loved the way he held me to him. As much as he used me as a dartboard, I felt protected in his arms. I felt…important. It was something I couldn’t rationalize while his hands were on me.
“You were meant to be mine. From the first second I saw those pretty fucking green eyes. From the second you walked into Taylors Security in that godforsaken flowery dress that swished around your legs, those fuck-me pumps clasped tightly around your delicate little ankles.”
“So then why?—”
“Quiet, Olivia. I’m not done explaining myself.”
Arousal looped through me at his demand to stay silent. Something about it drove me closer to an edge I didn’t even know existed, yet there it was, reaching for me and begging for me to put my hand in its own. It didn’t help that Weston’s voice was low or that he smelled so good. Like clean linen, aftershave, and regret.
“Once Lennon had his sights set on you, I knew I’d never be able to have you.”
My heart hurt knowing that he pushed me out of his mindfor so long. That he didn’t make an attempt to be with me before his brother did. That, if I would have paid attention to this undeniable pull, I could have possibly shared intimate moments with him, instead.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked quietly. “Why didn’t you express what you felt for me?”
He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Because I didn’t want to take something as beautiful as you away from my little brother. I couldn’t do it then, but I’m so goddamn conflicted every time I look at you now. As much as I’ve claimed you in my mind, I know it’ll never be that way in reality.”
I lifted my hands then and found his neck. I trailed my fingers up his face and ran them over his scruff. The way it scratched at my palms incited more from that spot between my legs. I traced the outline of his lips. Ones that could spit mean truths. But also made me want something bad, something so forbidden that it had the potential to wreck us both.
I leaned forward, that magnetism between us so strong I couldn’t get away. I wanted to do to him what he did to me. I thought about it for one more second before pushing down the guilt that would consume me later. It was only us in this dark room, and it would only ever be us here. No one else had the opportunity of intruding. No one could encroach on our space as rain pinged down on the metal roof above us.
I continued outlining his thick, full lips, taking my time and going agonizingly slow. Not just for him but for me, too. I loved the draw out. The tension that consumed a person until they had no other option but to snap.
And maybe I’d regret it when it happened, but I realized that was exactly what I wanted. For Weston to break under the pressure of what I did to him. Because that’s what he didto me so many damn times. He deserved to know what it felt like. To lose himself to someone who was irreverent, irredeemable, and downright irritating.
He groaned beneath my touch, that sound reverberating deep in his chest. His hands fell to my waist, his fingers tightening around my dress.
“You’re bad for me,” he murmured. “So fucking terrible.”
“But you like that,” I said so low he could barely hear me. “Don’t you?”
“You have no idea how much I like every little detail about you. From your smart damn mouth to the way youterrorizeme by wearing these dresses to work three times a fucking week.” He let out a heavy breath. “You’re the kind of woman that has the power to make me the man I should be or completely destroy me.”
That was interesting because… “I’m not that kind of woman for your brother,” I murmured.
“That’s because he’s an idiot who has his head stuck so far up his ass that his only guidance system is whether or not his dick is hard.”
“We could say the same about you. The head up the ass thing.”
“We could,” he responded without missing a beat. “How many years do you suppose I’ll spend in Hell if I take that pretty mouth of yours that doesn’t belong to me and taste how sweet that tongue is?”
