Chapter Eight #3
“Well. I think Danny may have had something to do with it. Maybe he contacted them online or something like that?”
“Maybe.”
And why the fuck didn’t Danny do something about it? This is his sister, dammit. If I hadn’t intervened, this would still be a big fucking problem for her.
“If I wasn’t thinking clearly, I would think it was something in your ballpark.”
“Interesting thought, Killer. Shame it couldn’t be me, isn’t it?” I lift the chains and wiggle them playfully before dropping them back down and leaning back. I’m begging my heart to calm down. She’s so goddamn smart; she can fucking read me like a book.
“So, am I a terrible person for being happy?”
She leans on her left hand, her pinky finger no more than an inch from mine.
She cares about my opinion. The video’s only just been posted, and her first instinct was to tell me.
This is more than her trying to get her own way when it comes to Danny.
My gut instinct tells me she’s feeling this as much as I am.
I mirror her position, leaning back on my hand.
“You’re a good person, Killer. You take care of your brother, you take care of your business, you’re even taking care of me. Despite what I am to you.”
“And what’s that?”
I hesitate for a moment. I don’t want to remind her of what I am to her. But the selfless part of me wants her to know he’s still in there. I want her to protect herself. Even if it’s from me.
“A bad man, a captive . . . a threat.”
Something shifts, the air becomes thick, and my breath catches in my chest.
In low, hushed tones, she replies, “You’re more than just those things, Austin.”
“Yeah?” I swallow, my gaze dipping down to catch her tongue running along her bottom lip. “What else am I to you, Olivia?”
We’re practically whispering to each other now.
Sharing secrets at the back corner of a classroom, desperately trying to ensure no one else hears.
The image of her squeezing my hand around her throat two nights ago floods my vision.
Her lips part, letting out a low whimper.
She has a dark streak in her that even she hasn’t explored yet.
When would she have had the chance? I could be the one to unravel her.
Teach her things she’s never dreamed of doing.
I lift my hand slowly so as not to startle her. She’s led this shift in our dynamic, but she could just as easily flip back. Her eyes track my hand until I cup her cheek, using the pad of my thumb to brush her lower lip.
“Answer me.”
“Wh...what was the question?” Her heavy whisper circles us both, until we’re wrapped in a gauzy cloud, everything else blurred and fuzzy.
“What else am I to you?” I lean in again.
Her chest moves more rapidly, her perfect breasts squeezing out of the pink crop top she’s chosen for the day.
How desperate I am to rip it clean off. For two long years, I’ve been waiting for her to give me unfiltered access to her perfect, soft breasts with puckered nipples. I salivate at the thought.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
I drop my hand so my fingers trail along her throat.
I want it to haunt her thoughts the way it has mine.
How good it felt to have my hand wrapped around her neck.
How close she was to me. The risk she put herself in must have been exhilarating, I have no doubt.
But if it was with another man, I’d have to punish her.
I’d never hurt her, but she doesn’t know that.
Olivia is taking more and more risks. It’s up to me to manage that.
Let her explore her thrill-seeking in a safe way.
Trailing my fingers down, stroking along her collarbone, but heading down to the valley between her breasts.
I trace the perfect handful along the bulge from the constricted sports bra, feeling her skin tingle beneath mine.
Everywhere I touch lights up, aching for more.
My own body is fully invested. My skin hums, my mouth waters.
I lean and press the gentlest of kisses to the corner of her jaw, right below her ear.
It’s all I would allow myself, for now. The tiniest gasp escapes Olivia’s mouth.
And another thread of my carefully tied restraint snaps.
Fuck it.
I squeeze her breast, rubbing my thumb where I can feel her hardened nipple beneath the fabric.
Fuck, I’d give my left arm to be able to run my teeth over it now.
Kissing down her neck, I feel her swallow.
A small moan escapes her parted lips, and I can’t help but smile against her neck.
Her body sings for me, and I can play it like I was born to do it.
Maybe after all these years of watching her, I’ve memorized all her micro-pleasures.
The way she trails her fingers over her neck when she reads, tracing her collarbone.
She likes it rough, biting her own lip hard, so only to imagine it done by someone else.
With all the willpower in the world, I press one final kiss to her neck, drawing my fingertips back up to her cheek.
“When you figure out what you want me to be, I’ll be waiting, Olivia. I can be patient.”
Lies. I’m not fucking patient. Every limb is protesting. My chest aches, my lungs are scorched like I’ve been trying to keep up with Usain fucking Bolt. My dick throbs against my leg, pressing against my sweatpants like it’s trying to take them off.
Despite my body’s silent screams, I draw away, leaving the ball in her court.