Page 16 of Not Made to Last

I don’t care.

Her lips are soft, her movements slow, and I can’t fucking get enough of it. The first swipe of our tongues has us both moaning into each other, and I don’t know where to put my hands. I want to touch her, feel her everywhere, all at once.

Kiss her everywhere.

Everywhere.

I reach up and grasp a handful of her hair. Tug. The sound that escapes her is pure fucking pleasure, and I kiss down her jaw, her neck, sucking hard. Biting. I pull her hair again. Teasing. Testing. She turns languid in my arms, and I crack a smile against her flesh.

Liv likes it a little rough…

…and I’m all fucking for it.

She dips her mouth to mine, catching my bottom lip between her teeth and pulling it away before running her tongue along the length of it. I groan, my dick throbbing, pulsing, warning me of what’s to come. “Fuck,” I spit, holding her ass in place. The way she moves… the sounds she makes… it’s too fucking much. “You’re too fucking good. I can’t?—”

I don’t get a chance to finish the sentence because her phone goes off—her alarm—and before I can stop her, she’s off of me. Completely. The sound of the alarm shrills through the air and rings in my ears louder than the blood rushing through my body.

She jumps off the truck, and I stay on my back, looking up at the stars as I try to catch my breath. “I’m so sorry, Rhys,” she rushes out.

Sorry?

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” she cries. Actually cries. And I sit up just to witness her pain. To make it mine. She swipes at a single tear on her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “This was a mistake.”

I push away the sudden sharpness of anger that flickers inside me.

Flick.

Flick.

Flick.

Amistake?

Me?

I might as well sound the buzzer and call this a loss.

A failure.

The problem is… Idon’tfail.

I did it once, and fuck if I’ll ever let it happen again.

8

Olivia

I can’t speak to Rhys.

Can’t look at him.

I can’t even breathe around him.

Which is a problem, it seems, considering he’s sitting right next to me, and I’m driving him home.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that we did what we did with a sleeping Max only feet away or that he’s… Rhys fricken Garrett, but now we’re here, in the cab of my truck, and there’s no means of escape.

I should’ve left him on that rooftop and fled, crashed through the closed security gate if I needed to.

---