Page 71 of Breaking Point

I chase it with the touch of my fingers, gasping when I feel how wet I am.

“Fuck,” he rasps as another moan slips past my lips. I press my clit harder, riding into the touch. “I shouldn’t want this.”

He reaches forward, hand tracing my arm while his other hand finds my nape and fists my hair there, drawing another moan.

“Such a good girl, coming for me," his voice is hot in my ear, and when his lips brush my cheek, my jaw, I feel everything explode.

My body shatters, pleasure spiraling in an intoxicating, dizzying wave. I ride out my high, one of his hands still in my hair, the other tracing my body as I come down. I switch the vibrator off, my breath heavy as it mixes with his. For a few moments, we just watch each other, unmoving, unwilling to break the trance.

We’re close enough that my lips brush his as I form the words, “I want to touch you now.”

I feel his hesitation, but when he doesn’t move away, I slowly lift my hands. Only he catches my wrists gently.

“Olivia…”

The moment lasts for all of a few seconds longer before reality comes crashing down. I draw back, the haze clearing as I reach for my panties and draw them back on without looking at him. Surprisingly, I’m not embarrassed. More flustered than anything else.

“It was one time,” I offer, staring hard at the floor as I bend over to find my shorts. “You’re right.”

“Olivia-“

“Crew,” I laugh tiredly before pulling my shorts on. “I understand. I do. It was one time… and we both need to sleep this off.”

His eyes wander over my face again, and he takes one last look before nodding. “Right.”

“Goodnight.”

He’s gone, and before I can think too long about what happened, I shut my door and flip off the lights before burying myself in bed.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Olivia

Life rarely happens as we plan it. No matter how we try to define the boundaries of our relationships, our friendships, life has a way of blurring things. Lately, it’s hard to know where the lines were drawn in the first place.

“Wait,” I murmur, coming to a stop in front of the photographer.

It’s about 30 minutes until the ceremony starts. We just finished detail shots in the groom’s suite. Eleanor is getting the finishing touches done on her hair and makeup, and Richard is likely waiting to hand off the rings to the best man.

Only… we left the rings in the groom’s suite when we were getting photos.

“The rings. I’ll grab them if you want to go and shoot last minute photos in the bridal suite.”

“I’m on it,” Noah says, and I grin as he winks and struts back down the hall.

I’ve worked with Noah Lawrence before, and he’s always got a bit of a flair for the dramatic, but he’s one of the best wedding photographers in Westos. He’s done more pieces on Westlan social royalty than I can count, and he rarely shootsa wedding that doesn’t land the front cover of every lifestyle magazine.

I stroll to the groom’s suite, my planner still in-hand with a task-list a mile long. I’m nearing the end of it, but with the reception doors open to guests already, I need to be quick. They should be lining up now, and I pick up my pace until the groom’s suite is in view.

I knock twice before balancing my planner on my arm and stepping inside. What I don’t expect is to find Richard still inside, bent over the armoire at the wall. I freeze when I spy the white powder in front of him, the card scraping it into a neat line, before he snorts the drug. He groans, swiping his nose with his sleeve. He must see me because he turns, frozen in shock.

“Liv.”

“I- Um…” Words are caught in my throat, and he quickly clears his throat, standing and smearing any remaining evidence from the table. “Sorry. I knocked. Noah and I forgot the rings.”

His eyes dart toward the ring box on the armoire beside him, still beautifully wrapped in silk for the shot. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he explains, and I nod, unsure of what to say. “Look, it’s just some pre-wedding nerves. That’s all. I don’t normally…” he rambles. “I would never do this just because.”

He’s lying. The look on his face screams the truth, but it would be inappropriate to call him on it.

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