Page 67 of Little Did You Know

"Fuck," he growled as his hand slid down into my hair, gripping it tightly. I surrendered, allowing him to take control. Moving my hand, I allowed him to slide to the back of my throat and pull himself out slowly. His pace picked up, and his moans grew louder. He thrust his entire length down deep and hard before releasing himself down my throat with a gasping growl.

He lifted me from the shower floor, and his mouth found mine—possessive, demanding, almost desperate. A kiss that said I was his and he was mine.

His lips parted against mine, tongue tracing my bottom lip, teeth grazing with just enough pressure to make me gasp. Each touch felt like a promise, but Nick's promises always came with fine print I couldn't quite read.

The kiss deepened, and our tongues tangled together. His hand slid up my scalp, roughly pulling, allowing him access to my neck. He ran his tongue down to my collarbone, tracing the curves.

His hands found my waist, lifting me with a certainty that made my breath catch. My legs wrapped around him instinctively, muscle memory from all our other almost-moments. The shower's warmth followed us out, but it wasn't what made my skin burn. Every touch felt like a question neither of us was brave enough to ask out loud. When he set me on the counter, his hands lingered longer than necessary, like he was trying to leave fingerprints on my soul. Each kiss burned hotter than the last, each moan carried words we swallowed back. We were experts at this dance—the physical part. It was everything else we couldn't figure out.

A moan escaped my lips as he ran his tongue over my nipple before sucking it into his mouth. His finger slid inside of me, sliding in and out, sucking harder on my nipple, and the combination of the two feelings left me falling to pieces around him.

I wanted him. I wanted to feel all of him.

"Please." My fingers traced the line of his jaw, drawing him up to meet my gaze.

He took my mouth with his as he positioned himself over me, and with a strong, hard thrust into me, I cried out against his lips. His pace picked up, and I thrust my hips, matching his pace, grinding myself against him.

He pulled me off the counter, laying me on the floor. I wanted control. I pushed to flip him; he bit his bottom lip, flipping me to the top.

Grinding myself hard against him, his grip tightened on my hips. His fingertips dug into the sensitive skin. I moved faster, realizing I had control of my own pleasure. I threw my head back at the feeling of his fullness beneath me, in me.

"Fuck, Olivia," he growled. I pushed him in deeper and my body vibrated with pleasure as I reached an insanely intense orgasm. He gripped my hips, pulling me down harder and deeper onto him as he joined me in my rushing high.

We both lay silently breathless on the bathroom floor as we came down from our high.

I wrapped my hair in a towel, watching him in the mirror as he moved around the room. The easy intimacy from moments ago had evaporated, replaced by the careful distance he always put between us after these moments. "I think we should talk." My voice came out steadier than I felt.

His shoulders tensed for just a moment before he yawned. "I think we should get some sleep." He crawled into bed, each movement designed to seem casual, but I recognized the ease of someone avoiding a conversation they'd rehearsed too many times in their head.

Tossing the damp towel into the hamper, I turned to face him. He patted the bed beside him.

"Nick." I pressed my palms against the cool counter edge. "We need to talk about this."

"Talk about what, Olivia?" The sheets rustled as Nick jerked upright, his jaw tight. "About us?" He shrugged. "I'm really not ready to have a conversation about it because I don't understand it myself." He threw the white comforter off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Honestly, this is why I have rules. So, lines don't get blurry, and right now, those lines are smudged all over the fucking place. I just needspaceto think." He shoved his hand through his hair. "Can we please go to bed? We can revisit this after some sleep." He laid back down and rolled away from where he expected me to sleep.

The tears came hot and fast, but I refused to let him see them. Each step toward the door felt like I was leaving pieces of myself behind—all the hopes I'd carefully collected, the moments I'd misread, the future I'd built in my head despite every warning he'd given me.

I'd known from the start who Nick was. He'd shown me his walls, his rules, his carefully constructed boundaries. But I'd convinced myself that wanting someone enough could change them. Now I understood—the person who needed to change had been me all along.

I needed to move on, which was never going to happen with me living here.

The word 'space' echoed in my head as I closed my bedroom door. Space. Such a small word for such an enormous thing. I'd been filling Nick's spaces for months now—the space in his bed, the space in his shower, the space in whatever he had instead of a heart.

Tomorrow, I would start looking for apartments—something small, something mine, something without ghost rules, almost feelings, and not-quite promises.

My phone glowed in the darkness, Emmett's name sharp against the screen. My finger hovered over his name. Emmett, who'd given up his own life to give me one. I hit his name with my thumb and brought the phone to my ear. I needed to talk to him. I needed to know he was okay.

The phone rang several times before finally going to voicemail. Emmett didn't seem to miss me, but I couldn't really blame him either. He'd never had any real freedom. Right after graduation, he had to take on a parental role for me. I couldn't blame him for enjoying his time now. He'd call when he was ready.

With a sigh, I set the phone back on the charger, laid back, and closed my eyes.

Chapter Thirty

The empty chair across the dining table mocked me. Seven days of silence stretched between that chair and me, each morning a repeat of the last—waiting for Olivia, watching her avoid me, remembering the sound of her door locking that night. The coffee in my mug had gone cold, just like the words I'd rehearsed a hundred times since she'd shut me out. I didn't have everything figured out, but I knew I didn't want to lose Olivia and knew it was time to tell her the truth.

Sitting at the dining table, I patiently watched the stairwell for Olivia.

A glance at my watch said that she was running late this morning.

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