“Then what’s the problem? You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length, literally. What’s going on? Tell me.” She bites her bottom lip. “I want to understand. Please make me understand, Stephen.”
“I know you do, and I wish I had an answer.” I stroke her cheek, unable to resist touching her.
Olivia and her honey-blonde hair, pink lips, and doe eyes. She’s innocence personified… Shewasinnocent until I came along. I used to think it was better that it was me than some frat boy who would use her and toss her, but I’m starting to think I’m worse.
“You have the answers, you just won’t give them. That’s different,” she insists. “What won’t I get? What won’t I forgive?”
“That’s not fair.” My voice sticks in my throat.
She’s my best friend’s daughter. This has been wrong from the start for that reason alone. Factor in the age difference and I feel like a predator who belongs on a different kind of show. I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head. “We have to stop, Liv. Before we really give the press something to talk about. We both know that.”
“We’ll be more careful,” she said, waving it away. “Please, Stephen. What we have is worth it. I know it is.”
“You’re too young to know that,” I insist, but don’t resist the kiss she places against my neck.
A shiver snakes down my back. I swallow again. How can any sane person choose between everything they want and what theyshoulddo? And how can they give up someone like Olivia without relapsing?
I’m only a man.
“Please,” she whispers.
I take a step forward and back her against the wall. I shake my head again. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I’m asking for you. Give me one night to prove that everything can work out, thatweare meant to work out, Stephen.” She tugs on my jacket.
It’s too much.
I shove her against the wall and devour her mouth. She whimpers, then dissolves into a moan that makes my toes curl. Her tongue tangles with mine, following each stroke and lick with one of her own—like our own private, desperate waltz.
Her hands on my back, her body pressing into mine like she can melt against me, the heat of her mouth and the way she moves her tongue, all of it is too much. If I don’t pull away while I have some semblance of sanity, I’ll lose myself to her right here and now.
I pull back and try to picture something, anything, that will soften the bulge steadily growing in my pants. Olivia rubs her legs together, her back arching ever so slightly as her palms drift over the wall.
“I know you feel it too, Stephen,” she insists. Then her eyes dart to the door and she bites her lip. “We’re not done talking.”
“Olivia—”
She walks out the door as if she only needed a break from the “excitement.” I beat my fist lightly on the wall and press my forehead to the cold surface.
She’s like cocaine—addictive, tasty, memorable. Innocent, sure, but damning. I can’t settle for a taste when I know what having her makes me feel, what being with her makes me believe.
How am I going to survive the withdrawal?
Olivia
Ihate seeing him with another girl, especially when I’ve been that girl for him in the past. Only, he did more than introduce me to others. He chained me to his side, told me who to be careful of. He treated me like I was his precious treasure he didn’t want to lose.
Now I’m jealous of the redhead eagerly demanding his attention. I know her type—they know that sleeping their way to the top is effective. Just look at some of the millionaire women who haven’t had to work after the “accidental” release of their sex tapes.
She may not be that determined to soak in infamy, but I definitely recognize the sexy looks she’s giving him, how she looks up at him from beneath her long lashes. How long had I watched Stephen with that same look before he’d finally taken me seriously enough to even glance in my direction?
I know it’s only a matter of time before Stephen ends up with someone else. I don’t think I can handle it. Even though I want to tell myself that I can because I’m strong enough to handle more than my fair share, but Stephen makes me greedy and throws all my emotions out of whack.
Grabbing another glass from the waiter, I toss back champagne like it’s water. My eyes slip to Stephen again, but he’s watching me already. It would be easier if he ended things all the way or gave me a reason that I can accept.
My friends will say that it’s bound to happen. Only my two best friends know anything about Stephen because they’ve watched me moon over him from a distance, seen the hurt in my eyes whenever he rejected me. They’re the same ones who teased me about the L-word far before I let myself even begin to think “love” and “Stephen” in the same sentence. Now I’m convinced he’s the only man I’ll ever love. There can’t be anyone else for me. No one who is as mature and accomplished, yet fun. Stephen is the perfect mix of what I love and what I want to be.
How can anyone else compare? It’s simple. They can’t.