ChapterTwenty
Piper
Excitement coils in my belly, and my skin tingles with anticipation. Oliver moves with catlike quickness, dousing the fire with a bucket of water then grabbing my hand and dragging me into the house and up the stairs. He finally releases me, and I kick off my sandals and perch on the edge of the bed, gripping the comforter with nerveless fingers. I’m breathing hard, my pulse a roar in my ears.
My top is coiled around my waist. I should feel self-conscious—I probably look ridiculous—but how can I think about any of that when Oliver is devouring me with his gaze like I’m the most absorbing thing he’s ever seen?
He prowls toward me, a lion stalking its prey. “I want to taste you.”
My eyes widen. Heat swamps me. “Yes.”
I recline against the comforter as he moves on top of me, placing his arms on either side of my head. Then we’re kissing again, except to call it something as simple as kissing is like calling Oliver a little rich. He consumes me, his hands roaming my face and hair, his tongue skimming mine. I grapple with the buttons on his shirt while he nips at my lips.
And then he’s on the move, slipping downward. He pauses over my breasts, ratcheting up the spiraling tension. I squirm and gasp.
His fingers trip down my stomach, tugging my tank top where it’s still looped around my waist. In one brisk motion, all my clothes—including my panties—are stripped down and off my legs, and he’s shouldering himself between my thighs. Anticipation swirling in my stomach blends into worry and embarrassment. I haven’t been with anyone in a while, and I’ve never…
I grip his hair, lifting his head up without resistance. “I’ve never done this.” My voice is a little hoarse.
He blinks at me, eyes hazy with lust and need. The words register, and he gives me a feral grin. “Good,” he growls and then dips his head again and… Oh my.
What if he doesn’t like it? What if I don’t like it? What if—oh no. When was the last time I shaved?
He kisses my inner thigh, and I gasp. His breath puffs against my skin, and then an eternity later, his mouth is on me, gentle but insistent, and all thoughts fly out of my brain, replaced by nothing but sensation. His lips slide up and down, taking his time, exploring, learning. When he strokes at a certain angle and my thighs clench, he repeats the motion. Testing. Tasting. It’s as if he’s cataloguing my responses to his every move. Each brush of his mouth pushes me closer to the edge, the pressure gradually increasing until I’m jerking my hips underneath him, begging for more.
He ambushes me with his tongue and his lips, and then his fingers join in pushing me higher and higher until my whole body is a tightly woven knot of pleasure. The tension crests and bursts, and I fall over the cliff, breaking into a million shattered stars.
When my awareness finally knots itself back together, I’m lying on top of a fully clothed Oliver, his heart thudding under my ear. One of his hands is in my hair, sometimes rubbing my scalp, sometimes tugging lightly on the strands, while his other hand grasps my rear in a hold that screams possession.
After a few minutes of assessing our positions, I blink my eyes open. His pants are tented with his arousal. Why isn’t he trying to get me to return the pleasure?
His lips touch my head. The orgasm, combined with the affection, makes my heart ache not only because this is the first time I’ve done anything with someone other than Ben—although maybe that’s part of it—but also because of how sweet Oliver is. He insisted that he doesn’t know how to care, yet here he is, caring.
I lurch into motion, straddling his hips. He stares up at me, his eyes clouded with lust. His hands skim up my arms.
“Piper.” His hips move, thrusting his hardness up against me, seeking relief.
Even though I just came, arousal floods through me. Again. I put a hand on his cheek, wanting to feel the stubble on his jaw again.
He turns his head, his lips brushing my palm with a tenderness reserved only for me. His warm hands slide over my back. His gaze locks with mine, heated and somehow adoring. He holds me like I’m precious.
The ice wall inside me cracks open. My entire body stills, my throat closing up. I’ve been pushing my feelings down, and now all the pent-up shame and anguish is jostling to break through but getting stuck halfway out.
Oliver’s voice coming from far away. “Piper? Are you okay?”
I’m not okay, but I can’t tell him. My muscles lock. I can’t move. Warmth fills my eyes, Oliver’s face blurring underneath me.
Oh no. I can’t do this. I can’t have a meltdown now in front of Oliver, when I’m naked on top of him and we just—
My chest tightens. Black spots crowd my vision. I can’t breathe. It’s like sucking air through the tiniest of straws.
Then his voice is in my ear, low and soothing, repeating the same phrase over and over. “Breathe with me. Breathe with me.”
Time passes. I focus on his voice, on the strength of his arms around me. I’m sitting in his lap, with one of his hands rubbing up and down my back as he continues the calming mantra in my ear.
I take a deeper breath, the thunder in my head easing, my body slowly relaxing. Ben isn’t here. I’m here with Oliver, who helped me off the ledge of a complete panic attack.
Oh no. Mortification sweeps in as the panic slinks out.