Chapter 8 Olivia
OLIVIA
Hard, slow breaths came out of me, and desire coursed through my body.
There were many things I could’ve said, but I settled on, “How much longer do you think we’ll be in here for? Do you think anyone has noticed us gone yet?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered, that hungry flare in his voice still present.
This intense need to hear it again roared to life inside me, but I tried to push it down.
The effort was futile. “We’re stuck in here, Olivia.
We’re not getting out until someone comes to open that door.
Worst case scenario that isn’t happening until Monday morning. ”
He stepped into my space even more then dropped his forehead to mine.
“Fuck, you smell like sin.” When he inhaled a deep breath, my skin quivered.
“I’m not good when it comes to people and their emotions.
I know I’ve been awful to you. I don’t want to be, but you just…
I don’t know. I’m this wire, and when you’re near, you’re the spark that sets it off.
That makes it burn away until there’s nothing left. ”
“I never do anything to you, though,” I breathed out, but God, it was hard.
“I know,” he whispered. “And it gets under my skin the same way annoyance does when code is being finicky and not working the way I want it to. Numbers and letters are so easy to manipulate into what I want them to be. People… Well, I can’t exactly do that with you, can I?”
“No,” I said softly.
“I’m dying to break a piece of you off to keep all for myself. I don’t want to be selfless with you. I want to take more than I’ve given you, and that’s a problem.”
“If you’re saying you want to be my friend, Weston, you can have that.”
His jaw flexed. “I don’t want to just be your friend.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, a flurry of something moving through my chest and dropping into my belly. “I—”
His mouth was on mine in the next second.
Hot.
Soft.
And wet.
His tongue burglarized my mouth and swirled against my tongue like it was a diamond ring he wanted to take with him.
A moan worked up my throat and snuck out in the small gaps of air around our hurried movements.
I reached up to hold his face against mine, and that quick, he was tearing at my dress, dragging the fabric up my legs so he could slither his hands underneath it.
Oh, God.
That flame that flickered in the center of my being relit, smoke billowing out beyond the match that started it. My insides twisted into a tight knot that only he would be able to fix.
When he bit at my lip, I did the same back, pouring into him what he gave me. His hands settled on my ass, squeezing as he brought me closer. Heat flooded my limbs, dousing out all rational thought.
Minutes ago, I was sure we’d be able to figure out some kind of boundary for the remainder of our time in here. But just like that, it was gone. It vanished into the night, merging with the storm outside until it washed away.
My lungs begged for air, and that dizziness that clouded my head earlier floated away, replaced by the high that came with undeniable attraction.
When Weston pulled back the slightest bit, I dove for him again, not wanting the moment to fade. I didn’t want to give this up. The feeling that existed within me. The one he brought to life with his touch.
I clawed at him. I could feel the wetness that coated my panties. The arousal that dripped out of me because I wanted so much more than just his tongue.
I dragged my hand down his chest, moving to the waistband of his slacks before running my hand along the bulge in them. He skimmed his fingers over my underwear, rubbing that sensitive spot on me.
My head fell back, and a whimper escaped my lips.
Weston dropped his mouth to my jawline and stamped kisses there. Tiny little treasures that would stay with me long after the moment was gone.
“I probably shouldn’t have kissed you,” Weston admitted, his palms tickling my skin. “I kept telling myself not to touch you, to keep my hands to myself, but your presence takes up the entire room, my entire fucking mind.”
“Weston,” I sighed, “Don’t say those kinds of things to me.”
“Why not?” he asked, going as far as pushing my dress higher. It bunched around my breasts, and I knew the silent question that was present: can I see you?
“Because,” I said firmly.
They did things to me. Brightened my entire world. Made me feel alive. Made my heart beat a little harder. Made my clit crave his touch.
“Because you like it. You like knowing how hard it is to keep my hands to myself,” he said. “It’s going to be torture keeping my hands off you after this. I’m going to want your mouth again and again. I’m going to fucking fantasize about it every day for the rest of my life. Do you know that?”
“Weston,” I breathed out in warning.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. The biggest difference between my brother and me is that I mean what comes out of my mouth.
I’m not bullshitting you when I say that I’ve thought about this moment for months.
That every time I see you smile and laugh with staff, I think about it being only for me.
That I wonder on a daily basis how sweet you taste, and I’m not just talking about your mouth. ”