So, I’m doing him and her a favor by just happening to run into her and getting her out of here.That’s all I’ll do, I promise myself. Find her, hide her from douchebags, get her to go home, and Iabsolutely will nottouch her. Not even a brush of my hand. Just a short conversation.
It will be fine.
I will be fine.
Cold turkey works.
Until I see her.
She’s a beacon of beauty among all the women. Her dress clings to her like a second skin. Her assets are on display, her makeup is done artfully, her expression is of a practiced loneliness, and her hair cascades down her back. Classy and unattainable, and utterly delectable.
She outshines everyone around her until she’s all I see. Like staring into the sun. But I’ll stare forever, memorize every inch of what I can’t have. My muscles tighten and I clutch my fingers into a fist.Don’t touch, Stephen. Just tell her to leave and get out.
But I can’t walk away, even though it’s the safer route. I can’t just leave after seeing her. The hunger is going to destroy me, turn me inside out unless I do something about it.
She gently whispers in her friend’s ear and heads up the stairs, the nearly see-through train of her dress following like a clingy pet. It’s my chance, the only chance I have to get her alone. Her father will kill me if he finds out, but I can’t worry about that right now.
It’s just a talk. It’s innocent. I’ve drawn a line in the sand.
When I climb the stairs, I see her in the hallway. Her eyes glisten in the dim light. She’s ethereal, otherworldly. No man can possibly resist her full lips, amazing body, and her passion. I’m an idiot for pushing her away.
I swallow as her eyes meet mine. We’re like two gunslingers on the edge of battle. The tension in the air is so thick it drowns out everything. The party is a hum outside of our bubble.
“Olivia.” Her name is a prayer on my tongue. “It’s been a while.”
“I didn’t think you’d be here.” She looks nervous, glancing behind me as if searching for someone. Something feels off, but I can’t listen to that feeling when she’s standing here, glorious.
“I always get invited.”
“And you never go,” she reminds me softly.
Silence hangs between us, uncomfortable. My breathing changes, gets faster, like I can’t get enough oxygen. I feel like I’m about to lose her. Which is a good thing—it’s what needs to happen. It’s what’s healthy. But I can’t stop myself.
“You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She clasps her hands in front of her and blushes slightly as she smiles. Then she clears her throat and nods. “You look good too.”
She moves forward as the bathroom door opens and a giggling group of women walks by without noticing us. Olivia puts her hand on the door and her beautiful eyes meet mine. There are questions there, but more. Emotion, longing, something sad. I want to soothe it all.
I close the distance between us and reach a hand out, almost giving in and touching her face. She bites her lip in that sexy way that always makes my cock twitch. It’s too much. A tease I can’t handle. I drag her into the bathroom and cradle her against me, kissing her slowly, carefully.
There’s no real point in being careful after fucking myself by kissing her at all, but maybe it will keep me from being stupider. Maybe she’ll push me away.
Instead, her lips part and I slide my tongue into her mouth, tasting the sweet rosé on her. She always drinks rosé. I groan and pull her tighter against me, my fingers bunching the fabric of her dress. I’d be willing to sell my soul for another minute of this.
She pulls back and looks into my eyes with confusion. “You said we were done.”
“It’s a long Southern goodbye,” I pant.
I kiss her again. I’m fucked, royally fucked. And I’m horrible for not leaving. I’m confusing her, spinning her in circles, telling her goodbye and no, then taking full advantage when I know I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be the wiser man, the epitome of self-restraint. But Olivia and her mouth… I ignore that nagging voice in my head and let my body do the thinking. And my only thought: Olivia.
I reach around her and lock the bathroom door.
Olivia
Ican’t help but melt when Stephen touches me. I shouldn’t have this reaction. I’ve moved on, it’s been weeks since he last touched me, but my body doesn’t care. It craves him, welcomes him, can’t find a single reason to push him away. So, I drag him closer as he crushes me against the bathroom door.
His spicy, intoxicating cologne, his strong, broad shoulders, his mouth on mine—everything’s so familiar, so comforting, I love it. Being in his arms is like coming home after a long trip. It’s impossible to resist. I groan as his tongue slips deeper into my mouth. I breathe him in. I cling to him. The intensity takes my breath away.