13. Olivia #2
Then suddenly, he was closer, the scent of his cologne—clean, sharp, masculine—closing in around me. His fingers skimmed my jaw, and he tilted my face up. “Say that again.”
Suddenly, I could not speak as Brett lowered his lips to mine in the sweetest, softest kiss he’d ever given me. So many emotions passed between us in that one moment. I felt swept away by his tongue as he circled it around mine, tasting and taunting me into submission.
My heartbeat skipped as he bit my bottom lip. “Sorry, I bit you,” he said as he continued to brush his lips lightly across mine over and over again. Instead of urgency, there was a peaceful silence as we kissed like we had all the time in the world.
I laced my hands through his hair, expecting him to deepen the kiss and start undressing me. Instead, he pulled away and studied my face.
“You’re so beautiful, Olivia. I’ve never kissed a more beautiful woman than you.”
“You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I said as the tender moment dissipated.
“I think we both need a couple of minutes to digest that we finally admitted to each other that we’ve been secretly lusting after each other all this time,” Brett said quietly.
He pulled me close, and I could feel his heart thudding against me.
I savored every second, knowing he felt the same way about me.
When he pulled away, I put my hand on his.”
I need to use the restroom,” I admitted, then hesitated before adding, “but I’m too spooked to go alone in the dark.”
Brett’s lips quirked. “Olivia Shaw, scared of the dark? That’s new.”
I shot him a glare, but he chuckled before I could defend myself. “Come on, I’ll escort you. Wouldn’t want a haunted toilet situation on your hands.”
I ignored his smugness, but I wasn’t about to say no. This old, abandoned hotel, for all its character, also had the ambiance of a horror movie setting and I wasn’t about to be the idiot who wandered off alone.
When we were heading back, I veered left instead of right, drawn by the faint moonlight spilling into a massive, grand room. I stopped to admire it.
It must have been the ballroom.
The place was faded, with dust clinging to the chandeliers and the marble floors dulling with time, but it still held a haunting beauty.
Brett stepped in beside me, hands in his pockets, surveying the space.
Then, his gaze landed on something in the corner, and his entire face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Is that—” He strode toward the antique record player and ran a hand over the top.
“Shit. Haven’t seen one of these in years. ”
I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him fiddle with it.
“Brett, it’s probably broken?—”
He ignored me and fiddled with the dials. Within a minute, music crackled to life, and a soft, vintage melody drifted through the air.
I raised a brow. “Huh. Miracles do happen.”
Brett turned, eyes locking onto mine. Then he did something unexpected. He extended a hand.
“Dance with me?” His voice was low, smooth, and tempting.
My pulse jumped.
We were not doing this.
Except—I looked at his outstretched hand and how his fingers flexed, waiting for mine. My own twitched in response.
I bit my lip. “Brett… “
“Scared of a little dance, too?” His smirk was pure challenge.
Damn him.
I placed my hand in his, and a spark ignited the second our palms touched.
The first few steps were awkward. My body was stiff as I tried to remember how to exist this close to him without feeling like gravity was shifting. Brett, of course, was insufferably at ease, leading effortlessly.
“Remember that party junior year?” His voice was laced with amusement. “The one where you swore up and down you could salsa?”
I groaned. “God, don’t remind me.”
“You nearly broke my foot.”
“You were supposed to lead!”
“I was! You just—” He spun me suddenly, catching me smoothly when I nearly tripped. “—refused to follow.”
I swatted his arm, laughing despite myself. “Some things never change.”
He grinned, pulling me in a little closer. “No, they don’t.”
The music swelled, and we weren’t fumbling anymore before I realized it. We were moving together in a way that was too natural and effortless.
I glanced up, and my stomach flipped. Brett wasn’t smiling now.
His gaze had darkened, his grip firm but reverent.
He was looking at me like he wanted to consume me whole.
All I could do was stare into his stormy eyes.
His fingers brushed my jaw, his touch feather-light and testing.
I should have stopped this before it went any further.
I should have… He leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost over my lips.
I felt my world tilt, and my hands gripped his shirt involuntarily.
And then—I panicked. I yanked back so fast I nearly stumbled. Brett blinked, caught between amusement and something more profound. Then I grinned. A challenge and a dare. “Catch me if you can!”
I bolted, my heart hammering and my laughter bouncing off the ballroom walls as I sprinted toward the exit.
“Olivia,” Brett growled, but I could hear the grin in his voice. “Get back here!”
Footsteps pounded behind me. Faster. Closer. I almost made it to an office I could have hidden in. Almost. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and the world teetered as Brett spun me around and caged me against him. I shrieked, laughing and breathless.
“Told you not to run,” he said firmly.
His hold was unrelenting, and his heartbeat was a steady thrum against my back. Silence stretched. Then he turned me to face him, and everything else fell away. His gaze dipped to my lips, and I had exactly three seconds to decide.
Three.
Two.
One.
His mouth claimed mine. I gasped. The heat of it shattered every ounce of common sense I had left.
His lips were firm and demanding, coaxing mine to part, and I let him.
I clutched his shirt and pulled him closer.
He groaned, then threaded his fingers through my hair, tilting my head for a deeper taste.
The kiss was fire and history and something dangerously close to surrender.
And God help me; I didn’t want it to stop.
When we finally broke apart, Brett pressed his forehead against mine, breath ragged.
I swallowed hard. “That… was a mistake.”
His lips curved lazily. “Liar.”
Damn him.
Damn me.
Damn, everything.
And still—I didn’t let go.