Page 20 of Out of Control

“Then what is it?”

I blow out a breath and stare at the ceiling. Duties. Expectations. Parameters.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“So I’m only good for rebelling against your norm and mind-blowing sex then, but nothing else?” he teases. He has a point.

Not that I ever thought of Oliver Rossi as a big talker to begin with.

“Yes. Only good for sex and rebelling against warnings.”

“I’ll wear that badge with pride any day.” He gives a definitive nod but continues to stare at me. “Even footing. I want to understand.”

“Just like I want to understand why you said yes to Gravitas when there are rumors you said you’d never drive for them.”

Something glances through his expression. It’s fleeting but raw and as soon as it’s there, it’s gone.

“How about we forget the deep dive, huh? Aren’t we Simply Sofia and Just Rossi right now?” he asks. Okay. It seems I hit a nerve.

“Hmm. Just Ollie,” I murmur but am too lost in a silly smile to notice his sudden tensing as anything more than a shift.

“What did you say?” His voice is gruff.

“Simply Sofia and Just Ollie.” I shrug. “Rossi sounds so formal and . . . foreboding.” I chuckle. “Ollie sounds cute and cuddly and . . .” I glance over to him, and he has the most peculiar look on his face—one I don’t dare to decipher. It’s strange enough that when he paints a smile on his face, his change in demeanor is noticeable. “What?”

“I think we should stop talking.”

“We should?”

“Mm-hmm.” He runs his hand down my bare abdomen. “Way too much talking.”

“Are you trying to distract me, Ollie?”

“Distract? Perhaps. Or maybe this is just my way to get ‘even footing.’”

“Funny.” But the last syllable stutters as his fingers part me and begin a slow seduction that his mouth follows shortly after against my own.

I moan at the simplistic bliss of the moment. Of his actions. Of him seducing me into submission, because pleasure is more important than the answers to any questions right now.

I came to this festival to have a reawakening of sorts, a carefree moment without anyone knowing who I am, and to forget all familial obligations.

What better way to end it.

With Rossi. Like this.

But as we tangle ourselves in the sheets, there’s one very important question we leave unanswered: what happens next?

And maybe I get my answer when I wake up hours later to an empty bed beside me. The sheets are cold and my ego’s hurt.

Lust is like a drug.

It rules your body.

It mitigates all sense.

It makes you forget the reasons why once the high ends.

And it leaves you with a wicked hangover and a hankering for more.