She grips the railing, eyes lifted. I step up behind her.
She exhales, soft. Almost relaxed.
Then I lean in and press a kiss to the curve of her neck.
Her body jolts,subtle, but there.
I brush her hair out of the way with my hand and do it again, slower this time, my lips brushing over her pulse, my breath teasing the fine hairs at her nape.
“You think too much,” I whisper against her skin. “I can see it.”
My hands slide down her waist, coaxing, claiming.
“You’ve built your entire life around doing the right thing. Following the rules. Staying in control.”
Another kiss, just below her jaw.
“But this,” I nip gently, soothing the spot with my tongue, “has nothing to do with control.”
She trembles.
“Shut it down, Olivia,” I breathe into her ear. “Your logic. Your guilt. All that noise in your head trying to keep me out.”
I lower my mouth to her shoulder, exposed beneath the slip of her dress. She tilts slightly,justenough.
“Let me in.”
“What do you want?” I murmur, mouth dragging along the line of her jaw. “Not what you’ve beentoldto want. Not what’ssafe.Not what’s rational. What do you—” my teeth graze her ear, just enough to make hershiver, “want?”
She grips the railing like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered. But it’s not enough. Not anymore.
Her breath stutters with every word I press into her skin.
“I want to hear it from your lips,” I coax, soft but unyielding. “Say it. Tell me.”
I kiss the spot just below her ear, slow, claiming.
“Don’t think.” Another kiss, lower, harder. “Just feel.”
Her body sways back against mine, as though pulled there by gravity.
She turns in my arms, breathless, pupils blown, all pretense gone.
“You,” she breathes out. “I want you.”
I smile, slow and dangerous.
Step Two: Complete.
Chapter twenty-one
Olivia
His mouth is on mine before I can take the words back, hard and consuming, his tongue sweeping in like he owns every part of me already. One minute I’m outside in the cool air, the next I’m stumbling backward, his hands unrelenting on my waist, steering me until the world blurs. My back slams against the bedroom wall, a gasp catching in my throat as he cages me in with his body. His hand pins my wrists high above my head, the other gripping my hip, dragging me flush against the thick, unmistakable ridge straining his slacks.
The contact rips a moan from me, shameful and needy, and he swallows it like it feeds him.
My dress strap slips. Cool air hits the bare line of my shoulder, and I flinch, tugging against his hold. I know what comes next. The strapless bra beneath, the one that always makes me feel too exposed, too soft. My body isn’t the kind men like him want stripped bare under the lights.