Chapter 25
Olivia
Ican feel him—hard and pressed firmly against my ass. I can feel the restraint in every inch of him, the way he’s holding himself back like he’s hanging by a thread.
And part of me wishes he wouldn’t. Part of me wants him to lose that control, to give in and take what we both know I’d hand over without hesitation.
But the other part, the part still guarding old wounds, flares with quiet fear. Not of him, but of how easily I’d let go. How much I already want to give to this man who’s barely scratched the surface of me.
And somehow, that terrifies me more than anything else.
I feel his breath against my neck, uneven now, like he’s hanging on by a thread. “You’re making it really hard to be a gentleman right now,” he purrs, voice rough, strained with restraint.
I glance over my shoulder, meeting his eyes, and he must see it. The flicker of hesitation. The war between want and caution.
His hands ease from my waist, stepping back just enough for cool air to slip between us. The sudden absence of his warmth makes my skin ache.
But then, like he can feel it too, Kade reaches for my hands. His fingers thread through mine as he gently pulls me off the crowded dance floor, guiding me toward a quiet alcove tucked just out of sight.
“I want to do this right,” he says, voice low, steady. “This means something to me, you mean something to me. I don’t want you thinking this is just a game. It’s not.”
I don’t hesitate this time.
I reach up, cup his face the way he’s done with me so many times, my thumb brushing across his cheek. “I want you to kiss me, Kade,” I whisper. “Please.”
Something in his expression shifts—like a thread finally snapping.
Without a word, he steps in, guiding me back until my spine meets the wall. The thrum of music fades to a dull hum as all my focus narrows to him, to the press of his body, to the heat radiating off him.
And then—
He kisses me.
It starts slow—gentle—as I wrap my arms around his neck, but the need building inside me catches me off guard. I press my hips forward, desperate to feel more of him.
Kade’s mouth claims mine in a searing kiss that steals my breath.
One of his hands tilts my face, angling me as his lips trail down my jaw and onto the sensitive curve of my neck.
I’m panting, my fingers dragging down his back, nails catching just enough to pull a groan from deep in his throat as he presses his body, and his very hard cock, firmly against me.
His other hand drifts to my bare thigh, fingers flexing slightly against my skin as his mouth finds mine again. A moan escapes me—raw, unguarded—caught in the sheer intensity of wanting him, needing him. His hand trails upward, slow and deliberate, slipping beneath the hem of my skirt.
But then—he stops. Abruptly. Kade breaks the kiss, resting his forehead gently against mine, his breath ragged. His hands rise to cradle my face, coaxing my gaze to him.
“Not here,” he breathes, voice thick with restraint. “We can’t do this here.”
I nod, understanding laced with longing. Before I can second-guess myself, the words leave me in a whisper.
“Take me home.”
Kade searches my eyes, looking for any flicker of hesitation, but there isn’t any. I’ve never been more sure of anything. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want him right now.
“I just need to check on Aubrey—she’s had too much to drink and can’t drive,” he says quickly, his voice low, rough, edged with urgency. “I'll make sure she know to catch a lift with Trent, then we can go.”
He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, like he doesn’t want to stop touching me, even for a second. Then he leans in, presses a quick, restrained kiss to my lips, like a promise, and pulls back with a breathless smile.
“I’ll be right back.”
I watch him weave through the crowd, his shoulders tense with barely held control. My heart pounds. Every nerve feels alive, humming with anticipation. I should be nervous. Maybe even scared. But all I feel is want—and certainty.
I spot Aubrey just as Kade reaches her. She nods while he speaks, then rolls her eyes when he motions to Trent. Still, she nods again and pulls him into a quick hug.
Moments later, he’s back at my side. His hand finds mine, fingers threading through with quiet urgency.
“You ready?” he asks, voice low, gaze steady.
I nod. “Yeah.”
And without another word, we slip out into the night.
The drive to my house is silent, but the tension between us is thick—charged. Kade’s hand rests on my thigh, his fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles against my skin, sending shivers through me with every pass.
I glance over and catch his gaze, burning with want and desire. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
By the time we pull up outside my house and walk the short path to my front door, nerves begin to flutter in my chest. Not out of fear, never that with him, but something deeper. Something raw.
I’ve never let myself imagine this moment with anyone. I always assumed it would be taken from me, not given willingly. But this—this is mine. A choice I’ve made. And Kade is the only man I’ve ever wanted to make it with.
With my keys in hand, my fingers tremble. I fumble them, the metal slipping through my hands and clattering to the ground.
“Shit,” I mutter, bending down.
But Kade is faster. He crouches beside me and picks them up with ease.
“Let me,” he says gently, voice steady and calm, like he’s grounding us both.
He rises, unlocks the door, and pushes it open, his eyes never leaving mine.
Stepping inside, the quiet hum of the house wraps around us, still and expectant. Kade closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing like a seal on this moment.
For a beat, neither of us moves.
“Liv…” he begins, his voice low, uncertain. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m good just being here with you.”
I step into him, slow and deliberate, my hands sliding up his chest to rest over the steady beat of his heart.
“Will you take care of me?” I ask, my voice soft, a little shaky—but certain.
Kade’s arms circle my waist, drawing me gently against him. “You know I will.”
I smile, small and nervous, my fingers brushing the nape of his neck. “Can I be honest about something?”
“Of course.” He nods, his hands gliding up and down my back, comforting, steady, never pushing.
“I don’t have much experience,” I admit, my eyes dropping to his chest. “Actually… I have no experience. Not with any of this. But I want this. I want you. I’m just—nervous.”
My eyes lift to meet his again, searching his face for any flicker of judgment.
But there’s none.
Only him. Still here. Still holding me.