Page 53 of Out of Control

“He’s a competitor. We compete. Against each other. For each other. No doubt at times we’ll like each other and at others we’ll not. It’s a flawed system to have men want to beat each other but at the same time protect each other.”

She nods slowly and I can see she’s processing what I’ve said. “So you’re refusing to answer.”

I chuckle and push off the chair and move toward her. “My answer is irrelevant and definitely has no bearing on this, right here.”

“It doesn’t?” She moves a few steps toward me.

“No.” I close the gap, reach out, and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t.”

We stand in this space, so close yet so far apart.

“Thank you for making sure I got home safely.” She reaches out and rests a hand on my chest. Her hand is cold but it feels incredible because, all of a sudden, I’m pretty fucking warm.

“Always,” I murmur, moving my hand to cup the side of her face and run my thumb over her bottom lip.

There’s a ragged inhale of breath, and I’m not sure if it’s hers or mine because I can’t hear properly over the thundering pulse in my ears.

Our lips meet. It’s a slow burn of a kiss. One with our hands in each other’s hair. With our bodies aching for more but some fucking thing holding us back. Making us take our time.

Anticipation. Desperation. Both are a dangerous drug to mix but not as dangerous as she is. As this woman before me with the wild eyes and the sleep-mussed hair.

“You usually do this before you spend the night,” she murmurs as she kisses her way to the underside of my jaw.

“I’m coming to find out that whatever this is between us, Sofia, it’s anything but typical.”

I lean forward to kiss her again and she hesitates. She’s thinking way too much. About why. About how. About whether this is a good idea or not.

And I’m so sick of all these thoughts. The only thing I know for sure is that I’ve never wanted anything more. I’ve had her. I know how good the reward is. How incredible she feels. But I’ve never had to wait for anything. Never had to want anything. It’s always just been there.

And then there’s Sofia.

Fucking Sofia.

“Stop thinking,” I murmur as our lips meet.

“Then make me.”

No sexier words have ever been spoken.

And as much as I want to rush to the next part—to our skin on each other’s, to me being buried in her—I savor her kiss. The slow steadiness of it. The quiet command of it. The enjoying each other to simply enjoy each other.

The room’s bright.

There’s no dark to hide behind.

There’s no alcohol to dim the haze of desire or veil the desperation in our need.

There’s no rush to finish before the weekend is over.

It’s just her pink lips parting for me.

Her tongue darting out to dance with mine.

My shirt coming off over her head so that her breasts are free.

God. This woman. This moment. It’s going to be my fucking undoing, and I’m goddamn good and gone.

“I want you, Ollie,” she murmurs against my lips as her fingernails skim down my naked torso. It feels like fire scorching its way under my skin. “I’ve always wanted you.”