Page 44 of Peaches

Olivia sleeps for a little over an hour, but it’s not enough time to settle the stampede roaring in my chest. I keep myself as still as I can, feeling her breathe against me, watching a strand of hair fly away from her rosy lips with every exhale that leaves her pretty mouth. Her cheek is pressed deep into my bicep, and it’s probably been a little too long since I’ve had any feeling in my left hand. But I can’t bring myself to move her.

I’m terrified of what happens when she wakes up.

Instead, I trace my gaze along her auburn-tinged lashes. Memorize the constellation of freckles splashed across her face. I can’t see her wrists from where they’re pinned between us, but my pulse grows unruly every time I think about the way they looked bundled in that rope. I wonder if they’re marked with what I did to her. It sets me off all over again with a deep, uncomfortable worry that I went too far.

When she eventually stirs, I stop breathing altogether. I’ve never done . . .this. Never let a girl I fucked fall asleep next to me. Never fucked one in my own bed to begin with. So I have no idea how to handle what comes next or the frenzied insecurity that I might have royally fucked things up with her.

Gold-flecked hazel eyes blink open in front of me, and I sink into them.

“I fell asleep," Olivia says, voice sleep-rough.

“Yeah.” I brush the pad of my finger along her cheek, only vaguely aware that the numbness in my other arm is starting to become painful. But I still don’t care. “I’m sorry,” I say, rolling my lips.

Her eyes widen, flitting back and forth between mine. “For what?”

“I was too rough with you.”

She sighs, her eyelids falling closed. She keeps them closed, even as she smiles. “No, you weren’t.”

It’s the first trace of potential relief. A softening in the pinch between my shoulder blades. But I’ve been winding myself so tight since she fell asleep, it’s not enough to really ease the worry. “Olivia?—”

“It was perfect,” she says, like it’s fact. “It wasperfect, Rhett. Exactly what I wanted.” She leans forward to kiss me, slow and lazy. And then pulls herself up and over me, the weight of her hips pressing against mine with a pressure that calms my racing heart. “I liked the way it made me feel. I . . . I liked you rough.” Her voice is clear and honest, and it sends a rush of heat up to my ears.

I almost can’t fathom it—that this sweet and soft girl, this beautiful angel, wouldlikethe way I want to fuck her. I slide my hands up her thighs, under her dress, and rest them around her waist, watching her face for any trace of worry. For any sign she might just be telling me what I want to hear.

But I see the way her cheeks flush and her lips part as she watches me just as closely. “I don’t want you to be careful with me,” she whispers. “What was it you said earlier? Oh . . . right.” She smiles. And then she sets her hooks in. “Howelsecan you please me, Rhett?”

It’s enough to sit me upright, slotting her down into my lap with my grip at her hips. Her calves stay buckled beneath her, giving me the leverage I need to keep her righthere. Right with me. “This wasn’t a good idea,” I tell her.

She frowns beneath a studious brow. “Why not?”

I watch the words leave her lips. Watch the shape of them change with every syllable. “You’re already wrecking me,” I admit. And then I lean down to capture those lips with mine, to give her more of something deep and dark that I’ve never given anyone before: my hope.

Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pulls me closer, her nails pressing into my back. My mind blanks when she sucks my tongue into her mouth before releasing it, following with a harsh bite to my lower lip. I know it for what it is, the permission she’s giving me. The trust.

I make quick work of getting her out of her dress, yanking it over her head and throwing it to the floor next to the bed. Her smile is lazy and bee-stung, and I can’t stand to be away from it any longer than I have to. “I meant it when I said I don’t normally kiss on the mouth,” I whisper, tracing her top lip with my finger.

“Why?” she asks, taking my finger into her mouth.

Fuck, this girl. “Because it means something . . . something more than sex and fucking. It means something to me.” Her eyes brighten, and I kiss her again, hoping like hell she understands.

She struggles to work the buttons down my shirt, distracted when my hands cup the shape of her breasts, pinching her nipples in tandem with the pulse of our mouths. Eventually, she gets frustrated and pouts against me, my shirt fisted in her palms, only half the buttons free. I smile down at her so wide it hurts. And even though I can’t shake the feeling that this is wrong, that someone like her is far too good to be true for someone like me, I can’t deny her a single thing.

This might be a casual fling for her, nothing but a fun future story to tell, but I’m suddenly finding myself in so deep there’s going to be no way out but through my own ruin.

I rip the front of my shirt with a hard pull, sending buttons flying across the room, and Olivia tips her head back to let out a booming laugh. With one hand settled against her spine to brace her weight, I keep my focus fastened to her face as I slide my free hand up her body, blazing a trail from her navel through the center of her chest, until I reach the expanse of her delicate neck. Wrapping my fingers around the column of her throat, I give it a light squeeze before bending down to pinch her nipple between my teeth, soothing over it with my tongue. Her laughter turns into a throat-deep moan, and I memorize the sound. Engrave it somewhere far inside my brain.

When she pulls herself upright, her eyes are dark. Urgent. “I need you,” she says, and I can’t fuckingbreathewith the way she’s looking at me. She rises up on her knees so I can push my boxers down my thighs, her palms skimming up my chest as she settles herself back down. Her fingers tip over my shoulders as she shoves the ruined shirt down my arms. When I’m free of it, I hold her tight, the warmth of her bare skin against mine a whole new level of vulnerability.

We stare at each other as she positions herself over me, slick enough to ease me in a quarter of the way herself, her fingers turning white where they sink into my arms. My groan turns into a swear, and I keep my eyes glued to hers, the feel of her near-blinding. When it’s clear she can’t move any further, I tuck my arms under hers and position one under the other at her nape, angling for better leverage. “Relax,” I order.

She nods, her swollen lips parted as she heaves a breath in. I watch with rapt fascination as her face twists in a beautiful mix of pleasure and pain when I thrust up into her, simultaneously pulling her down onto me. It nearly gets me all the way in, forcing me to hold still before I accidentally end this for myself far too soon.

She’s so fucking beautiful, so wonderfully perfect, that I ignore the warning bells and press small, quick kisses up the length of her jaw while I hold her in place. It’s too intimate, but I’ve thrown caution to the wind all night; there’s no sense in stopping now. “Again?” I ask when I get my bearings.

Her forehead rests against my chin as her breathing runs wild. When she nods, I smile, letting go of her briefly so I can push her hair out of her face. She’s already pulsing around me and I know it won’t be long before I get to see the way she shatters. With my next thrust, she cries out, the sound sharp as it cuts through the silence. I wouldn’t doubt it if someone could hear it from downstairs, but I don’t give a fuck at the moment because she’s coming, her body tensing, hands fisting into my skin as her eyes squeeze shut.

My god, she’s stunning.

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