“That’s you proving nothing.”
“Okay,” He pauses. “So if against all my better judgment, I decide to kiss you now, you won’t feel anything.” His eyes dig into mine, “right?”
“What I feel, is that you shouldn’t go against your better judgment.”
“Someone should have said that to me eight years ago, before I ever laid a finger on you. Think of all we could have avoided.”
“Yes.” I say. Why do I feel so unreasonably hurt that he would wish that what is still the happiest time of my life never happened?
“My better judgment didn’t stop me then, and it won’t stop me now either, Olivia. I want to kiss you and watch you feel nothing in my arms. Maybe then I won't be consumed by the thought of what it would be like after all these years.” His eyes drop to my lips, “What do you think?”
I’m not thinking anymore. My lips are tingling with anticipation. I run my tongue over them, only realizing afterwards, w
hen I see his eyes follow the movement hungrily, that I shouldn’t have. “I think you shouldn’t.” I whisper. Why am I so conflicted? I should storm out of the room. He could block my way, but I doubt he would hold me against my will. So what am I still doing here, standing in front on him, watching him while he drives me to uncontrollable lust?
A finger moves underneath my chin, lifting my face up to his. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
I shake my head. “What is there to be afraid of?”
He laughs softly, “Yes, what?” he says, moments before his lips descend on mine.
Chapter Fifteen
I resist the urge to moan and relax against him. That’s what he wants, for me to let down my guard and give away the fact that I still want him, but I’d rather die than give him the satisfaction. I’d rather let the fire raging inside me, the need growing like hot flames in my core, to burn me to ashes rather than give in to it. I’m no longer the seventeen year old girl who didn’t know any better than to say yes to her body’s desires. I can say no.
Nothing good can come from rekindling what we had in the past, I think, desperately holding on to my control as Jackson’s lips draw a sensuous path over mine. Already my nipples are stiff, my core clenching with need, and I can feel moisture gathering between my legs. I could just give in, the traitorous voice in my head says, enjoy the pleasure, once, twice, as many times as I can in the two days before I have to leave, or even after, as many times as it takes to get this insane desire for him out of my system.
Only I know that no matter how many times, it would never be enough. It won’t assuage the hunger that has been building for years, the hunger that has now exploded in my body. Instinct tells me that Jackson will not be satisfied with just my physical surrender to him. He won’t be satisfied until he had fulfilled his desire to prove to himself that he left a mark on me that can’t be erased. If only he knew
My thoughts keep me from falling victim to the slow, seduction of his kiss, the helpless desire I feel as his tongue licks over my lips, slipping inside my mouth to caress my own, the heat from his hands as they moves slowly up and down my arm, around my waist, and up to my breasts. I let him kiss me while I hold myself still, swallowing every moan growing in my throat and battling every ache of desire that urges me to respond.
Even the memories I’ve tortured myself with all these years do not do him any justice, I think through my fog of arousal, as his fingers find a pebbled nipple through my clothes. I have to bite back a sigh when he brushes his finger back and forth over it, causing a persistent, sweet ache between my thighs, a pulsing need for nothing more than to take this pleasure to the end.
He releases my lips, and his eyes are triumphant as he looks at me. “You may pretend all you want, but your body can’t lie. I know the meaning of the flush staining your skin, Olivia. I know why your heart is racing.” His fingers brush over my nipple again, then he pinches it lightly, just enough to send a sweet pulse of pleasure to my brain, and this time, a moan escapes me.
“You’re not as uninterested as you pretend,” He continues, “Whatever you’ve convinced yourself in your head, your body hasn’t forgotten.”
“It’s only sex,” I say, lifting my chin, trying my best to keep up an appearance of dignity, pride even. I try to sound as dismissive as I can, "and I’ve discovered since I left here that there are any number of men with hands and mouths that can make my skin flush and my heart race.
The tightening of his jaw is almost imperceptible. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“No, I’m trying to make you leave me alone.”
“Hmmm.” He draws out the sound, and when I’m not expecting it, he lowers his head and kisses me again, this time, a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth. "It’s not working.” He says, his warm breath warming the skin of my face. “I still want to do this." He kisses me again, using his tongue to caress my bottom lip before delving inside to taste my own. “And this,” He releases my lips to trail kisses across my cheeks, my eyelids, making me so weak I can barely stand. "I still want to take off your clothes and bury myself in your sweet, responsive body. I still want to indulge myself in you, until I’m no longer haunted by the scent of your skin in my nose everywhere I go, the memory of the feel of your body, your breasts that fit so perfectly in my hands." He pauses to place one last kiss on my lips, “after seven years of carrying all that around, I deserve some relief, don’t I? I deserve a chance to find out if the reality lives up to the memories."
“Well you’re not going to.” I manage shakily. The images he has conjured in my head are so graphic, I can hardly keep myself from tearing off his clothes. I need to get away, I think. I need a cold shower, because at this point, I’m one step away from stripping and spreading my legs right here in the library so he can give me the relief my body is dying for
I push away from him and pick up my laptop, holding it like a shield between him and me. “I’m not interested in making myself available so you can prove to yourself that I still want you.”
“I don’t have to prove anything, sweetheart. I already know. You can run all you want. It doesn’t change what your body wants."
I manage a shaky laugh. “I’m not running away, I’m staying away from you, because I have better things to do than to argue about what my body does or doesn't want.”
“Arguing is the least of things I want to do with you, Olivia.” His smile is charming and persuasive, “Let me give you what you want."
What I want is for him to love me. That’s all I’ve wanted since I first met him. That’s all I’ve wanted even in the years I’ve spent without him, trying to get over him. I want him to listen when I tell him everything that’s happened, to offer me the comfort I’ve wanted for years that only he can give me, to banish all the ghosts that still haunt me.
But he doesn’t want to give me comfort. He wants to take, to subjugate my body until the anger he’s carried around all these years is spent. Will I enjoy the subjugation? Probably. But then what? A new cycle of hurt and pain?