Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
I t felt too quiet downstairs without her and that was terrifying. I was already getting used to having her here and she couldn't stay.
I flipped through channels, anything to keep my hands busy and my mind off the way she'd looked at dinner. The channels blurred past. Click. Sports. Click. News. Click. Infomercial. But her scent lingered. My fingers twitched at the memory of her hand brushing mine, that simple touch burning through me like whiskey.
Two hours of mindless TV couldn't drown out the memory of her scent when she'd leaned close. Vanilla. Something that made my hands itch to touch.
But I couldn't. She was so young, and she deserved more than a man who couldn't, wouldn't ever commit to her. She trusted me, and that trust was a weight pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Better to wear myself out with late-night ESPN than lie in bed thinking about her down the hall.
Clicking the remote, I shut off the TV and pushed off the couch. I was finally tired enough that I thought I might be able to sleep, but before I made it into my room, I heard it—a soft sound that stopped me in my doorway. A tiny whimper. My feet moved before my brain could catch up.
I told myself I was just checking on her, like I had when she was younger.
The difference was, back then, I hadn't noticed how the hallway light caught the curve of her shoulder through her open door. Hadn't been haunted by the way her sleep shorts rode up when she shifted. Hadn't felt this maddening pull that made each step toward her room feel like moving through molasses.
I eased myself down to the floor, just for a moment, just to make sure the nightmares had passed. The carpet scratched against my palm as I settled in, her steady breathing slowly matching mine in the darkness. My eyes grew heavy, the familiar scent of her shampoo making the hard floor feel deceptively comfortable.
Pain shot through my hip as a warm weight crashed into me. Pure instinct had me reaching out to catch her, but that instinct betrayed me the moment she landed. Her body molded against mine like she was made to fit there.
My hands found her waist, and the heat of her skin through silk made my fingers flex involuntarily. Every point of contact burned into my memory—the press of her thighs, the flutter of her breath against my neck, the way she trembled slightly under my touch.
"Nick." My name on her lips was barely a whisper, but it echoed in the stillness of the room. Her fingertips found my face in the darkness, mapping the contours like she was memorizing them. The touch was feather-light, hesitant, until she reached my lips.
I caught each finger with gentle kisses, letting myself taste her skin. Every point of contact sent electricity coursing through my veins. My pulse thundered so loud I was sure she could hear it.
Moonlight spilled through the window, catching the question in her eyes.
"Yeah?" The word came out rougher than I intended.
"What are you doing on the floor?" Each word was a caress of warm breath against my lips.
Three inches separated us.
Three inches of space crackling with everything we couldn't say.
I swallowed hard, trying to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. "I heard..." The rest of the explanation died in my throat as her thumb traced my bottom lip. "Nightmare. Thought you were having one. I wanted to make sure you were okay." The fragments of sentences were all I could manage with her touch scrambling my thoughts.
Something shifted in her expression—vulnerability mixed with a flash of determination that made my heart stutter. We were balanced on a knife's edge, and I knew whatever happened next would change everything.
My hands roamed down to where I found naked skin, gripping her ass as her fingertip traced over my jaw down my throat to my chest.
My hands tightened around her, and I flipped, pinning her beneath me. My lips captured hers in a hot, possessive kiss. A small moan escaped her lips, and I swallowed it as she opened for me. My tongue dipped past her lips, tasting and teasing until her tongue met mine, tangling together.
She tasted so fucking good.
I wanted her; my body was desperate, my hands roaming, and my mouth commanding her submission. The sweet warmth of her tongue flicked over mine, and I released a feral growl.
Tearing my mouth from hers, she inhaled a sharp breath as if she couldn't find enough air as I ran my lips over her jawline, nipping slowly and down to her neck.
I pressed my cock into her. "Do you feel that?" I groaned as I took possession of it again. She hummed a reply, implying she did as her hips arched up into me. "I want you."
I traced the curve of her jaw with my lips, barely touching, letting my breath warm her skin. "Remember what we talked about?" The words ghosted against her pulse point. "About… Touching yourself?" Her slight shiver traveled through both of us. "Did you ever...?" I left the question unfinished, letting the anticipation build in the spaces between words.
Her head fell back, exposing more of her throat. "No." The admission came with an arch of her body, pressing herself closer, seeking more contact. The innocent desperation in her movement froze me in place. Reality crashed back like a bucket of ice water. I couldn't do this. I couldn't fuck her.
Pulling myself off her, I grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her to her feet. I had another idea, though. Though my body was screaming to fuck her, and I was hard as a rock, I wasn't going to touch her, but I was going to watch while she touched herself. I moved to the window and opened the curtains so that the full moon shone brightly through the window, illuminating the room perfectly.
"What's the matter?" Her chest rose and fell rapidly, moonlight catching the sheen of sweat on her collarbone.
"Take off your nightgown." The command emerged rough-edged, scraping across the delicate silence between us. Her fingers twitched against the silk, but she didn't move—caught between hesitation and something darker, hungrier.
I slowed my approach, letting my voice drop to that low register that had made her shiver before. "I'm not going to fuck you tonight, Olivia." The crude word felt sharp against the softness of her name, exactly the contrast I intended.
Confusion painted her features as she reached for the hem of her silk nightgown. Her fingers trembled against the fabric, creating tiny ripples that caught the light. Before she could retreat into that fear, I closed the distance between us. The heat of her skin radiated through the thin silk as I captured her hands in mine.
"Let me help you," I breathed against her temple, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my lips. I traced each knuckle with my thumbs. Each brush of my thumbs across her knuckles was measured, deliberate—transforming nervous energy into something darker, hungrier. The silk whispered between us as her breathing changed, shallow and quick.
I drew back just enough to watch the shift in her eyes—fear melting into something molten that made my control slip another notch.
Pulling her hands over her head, I leaned down to her ear, allowing my mouth to brush against her ear gently. "Don't drop your arms." Releasing her hands, they remained in the air; I slowly pulled the silky lingerie over her head, freeing her large breasts.
I discarded the sleepwear, dropping it to the ground, and her arms fell to her side. Stepping back, I admired the view; she was stunning.
I closed the space between us, placing a chastising kiss on her lips as I gripped her around the waist, lifting her and setting her on the bed. "I'm going to help you learn to masturbate." Her head shot up nervously. "But you have to do exactly what I tell you." She nodded. "If you feel uncomfortable at any time, tell me." She nodded again.
"Lay flat on the bed." The words hung heavy in the moonlit room. She complied with a grace that made my throat tight. The mattress dipped beneath her weight, and I found myself memorizing each detail—the way her hair spilled across the pillow, how her fingers curled slightly into the sheets.
"Place your feet flat on the bed, knees up." My voice had dropped to that rough whisper that lived somewhere between control and desire. She moved like a dream in slow motion, each shift deliberate as though she knew exactly what she was doing to my sanity.
I retreated to the foot of the bed, needing distance to maintain any semblance of control. "Spread your legs." The words scraped raw in my throat. "Farther." Each inch revealed was an exquisite torture, the moonlight turning her skin to pearl. "Perfect." The praise fell from my lips unbidden, rewarded by the slight catch in her breath.
"Place your hand between your legs." My gaze followed the slow descent of her hand, the way her fingers trembled slightly as they traced a path down her abdomen. She was teasing me without even knowing it, each hesitant movement stoking the fire in my blood. Her hand stilled at her core, waiting.
"Run your fingers over yourself, baby." The endearment slipped out rough and low. Her eyes fluttered closed as she explored, and I watched her discover pleasure for the first time. The sight burned itself into my memory—her lips parting on a soft gasp, the arch of her spine, the way her free hand clutched at the sheets.
"Are you wet?" The question hung between us like smoke. Her nod was almost shy, but there was nothing innocent about the way her body moved. Each circle of her fingers drew out new sounds—tiny whimpers and sighs that made my control fray at the edges.
"Find what feels good." I could barely force the words out past the thickness in my throat. The moment she found that spot, her whole body went taut like a bowstring. "And..." The rest of the instruction died as she let out a sound that nearly broke me.
"Nick," she breathed, the sound somewhere between question and plea. My name on her lips sent electricity down my spine. "I want..."
"What do you want?" I kept my voice steady even as my pulse thundered in my ears. The moonlight caught the uncertainty in her eyes, warring with something darker, hungrier.
"I want you to..." Her courage faltered, a blush creeping down her neck. The sight made my mouth go dry.
"Say it, Olivia." I gentled my tone despite the way desire roughened my voice. In the silver light, I watched determination replace hesitation in her expression.
"I want you to..." The words tumbled out in a rush, but her gaze held mine without flinching. "Touch yourself while I..." She bit her lip, the gesture innocent and maddening.
A slow smile curved my lips as heat pooled low in my stomach. "You want to watch me stroke myself while you touch yourself?" The crude words against her innocence made her shiver visibly. "Want us to come together?"
"Yes." The single word carried enough heat to make my control slip another notch.
I shifted on the bed, letting her see the effect she had on me through thin cotton before shoving down my boxers setting my cock free. Her gaze tracked the movement, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of color remained. "Don't stop," I commanded softly, watching her fingers resume their exploration as I claimed my space between her feet. The first stroke against myself drew a groan that mingled with her soft gasp.
Each movement became a mirror—her pace dictating mine, my reactions spurring her on. The moonlight played across her skin, turning every arch and tremor into art. Her free hand clutched at the sheets, knuckles white with tension. The sight of her learning her own body while watching me nearly undid my careful control.
When her breath started coming in short pants, I knew she was close. "Look at me," I growled softly. Her eyes flew open, heavy-lidded but locked on mine. The intimacy of holding her gaze as pleasure built between us was more intense than any physical touch.
She released a loud moan as she found her first climax, and I thrust my cock in and out of my hand until I exploded on her stomach.
I collapsed beside her, pulse still thundering in my ears. The weight of what we'd just shared settled over me like a physical thing. Part of me wanted to pull her close, whisper all the things I shouldn't feel.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with the aftermath. "Are you okay?" The roughness in my voice surprised me.
"Uh-huh." She propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze dropping to the evidence glistening on her stomach in the. A blush crept across her chest.
I rolled to my feet, muscles pleasantly loose. "C'mon. Let's get a shower."
Her eyes went wide, lips parting. "Together?" The word came out squeaky, somewhere between shock and anticipation.
"Yes, together." Certainly, after what we'd done, she wasn't worried about showering with me.
Her teeth worried her bottom lip. "Uh, won't that break some rule of yours?"
I braced my hands on either side of her head, lowering myself until our breaths mingled. My lips brushed hers, gently. "Shut up and come on." Rules seemed meaningless with her skin still flushed from pleasure, her scent filling my lungs. All I could think about was getting her under the hot spray, watching water trail down her curves.
Offering her a hand, I pulled her off the bed to her feet and followed her into the shower, shutting the glass door before flicking on the water.
Steam curled around us like a veil, turning the bathroom into our own private world. Water cascaded down her shoulders, following paths my hands ached to trace. Every movement became a dangerous dance—reaching for the shampoo, adjusting the temperature, maintaining that razor's edge of control that threatened to snap with each shared breath in the enclosed space.
When I reached for the soap, her quiet "let me" nearly undid me. Her hands moved with deliberate slowness, turning the simple act of washing into sweet torture. Each touch was innocent yet charged with electricity—the sweep of her palm across my shoulder blade, fingers skimming down my arm, catching on old scars I'd never wanted to explain before this moment.
I returned the favor with trembling restraint, letting the washcloth create a barrier between skin and sanity. Even that thin layer of fabric couldn't dull the heat radiating between us. Her breath hitched when I traced the curve of her shoulder, the sound nearly lost under the drum of water but shooting straight through me like lightning.
The sun had risen by the time we got out, and it was time to get ready for work. She left my room in a towel, and I felt instant disappointment to see her go. Fuck! What is the matter with me?
Once she was gone, the reality of what happened sank in, and the full-blown intimacy of it scared me.