Lennon’s hand fell away from mine, and he led the way. Weston lurked behind us, probably waiting until we were gone before he made his way to his office a few rooms over. I made it as far as the doorway before I blurted out, “I’ll be right there. I have to use the bathroom real quick.”
Lennon glanced over his shoulder. “Are you sure you can’t wait until we make it back to the house?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I really have to go.”
“Okay,” he drew out. “I can wait.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be right behind you. Sixty seconds max.”
Lennon weighed it out, his gaze snapping to the door handle. Before he walked into the room, he must have put the stopper back under the door. “I don’t want you in here by yourself. Last thing we need is this door giving out again.”
“I’ll stay,” Weston offered. “Go pull the car up to the front.”
Lennon’s hand scrubbed over his jaw and then he relented. “Okay, yeah.” He pointed at me. “Make it quick, though.”
“I will,” I assured him. He rounded down the hallway, his footsteps sounding out like an echo in the night.
Weston was at my back before I could turn around, one large hand framing my waist as the other came up and pulled my hair to the side. Warmth fanned across the back of my neck. He leaned down and kissed it softly. He gripped my chin from behind, turning my head at an angle so he could see me. Then his fingers—the same ones that were inside of me—dipped into my mouth.
“So. Fucking.Sweet.”
A moan slipped out of me, and then he gave me the softest push, nudging me out the door to follow after Lennon before walking down the opposite side of the hall.
I couldn’t help but stare after him and wonder how the hell the night’s events led to the moment I was currently living. The one where I felt torn between heading for the exit and following my boyfriend home or trailing in the direction of Weston’s office.
10
OLIVIA
Idarted out from under the awning at the entrance of the building, holding my hand over my head to keep the rain from soaking me. It wasn’t coming down in waves anymore, but it was still enough to wet my skin and tangle my hair.
My short heels click-clacked against the sidewalk as I raced for Lennon’s car. He had it double-parked at the curb, just like Weston suggested. The passenger door swung open as I reached for it, letting me know that Lennon was keeping an eye on the door, waiting for me.
I slid onto the seat with a heavy breath and quickly pulled the car door shut behind me. My chest heaved, for more reasons than rain water dotting my arms. Weston’s words popped back into my mind at the exact minute I slouched back into the heated seat and swiveled my head toward Lennon.
The dash lights lit his face enough for me to take in how handsome he was, the edges of his hairline lit in a golden halo. His left hand came up to rest on the steering wheel, but he didn’t move to put the car in drive. Instead, he shifted his right arm over the console and held his palm out to me.
Every part of me wished he would have done that earlier tonight. I lifted my arm and slipped my fingers between his, his hand warm against my cooler one. The contact—the intimacy—did nothing for me. My stomach didn’t swoop low like it did with him when we first started dating. Instead, it clenched terribly hard.
Because, while I was sitting in his car holding his hand, I was still thinking about his brother’s hands touching parts of me they should’ve never grazed.
“I was so damn worried about you,” he admitted, concern flashing across his face. His lips were drawn into a mostly flat line. But even when Lennon was upset or bothered, his mouth still quipped up at the sides. He was great at finding ways to smile when life challenged him.
I hated knowing that what happened between Weston and me would likely, and maybe permanently, ruin that about him. Having a hand in that was something I’d have to work through another night.
Rubbing my lips together, I squeezed my legs tighter. The aftermath of my orgasm, that silent hum, was still just under the surface, waiting to be unleashed again. It picked at me, bothering me with its incessant tapping until I mentally duct-taped it to a chair.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed out. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I don’t even know how the door closed when I walked into the room. My foot must have hit it, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“Jesus,” Lennon ground out. “You don’t have to apologize, Olivia. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He shook his head, swinging his gaze to look out the windshield. “With how bad these storms have been tonight, I thought something way worse happened to you. Fucking glad that wasn’t the case. To be honest, I should have canceled this tonight, but I didn’tthink the weather would turn into this.” He waved a hand at the window and looked back over at me, changing the direction in conversation. “How’s your head? Do you want me to drive us back to my place? We can come back tomorrow to pick up your car.”
I rolled my lips into my mouth, hesitation clawing at me. Because I… I didn’t necessarilywantto go back to Lennon’s house. What I was desperate for was to go back into Taylors Security and bother Weston with all the questions I had in my head. Somehow, that seemed way more enticing than walking through Lennon’s front door, setting my things down, and finishing the night out with our daily routine before slipping under the sheets with him.
There was no way I could do that—let him touch me—when I had Weston on my mind.
What we did was already bad enough, and I was smart enough to know that two wrongs didn’t make a damn thing right. These feelings inside of me weren’t going to quiet down unless I fed them.
“Olivia?”
