Page 62 of Light My Fire Three Times
Her lips are soft but demanding, heat sparking straight down my spine. My hands are in her hair before I know it, pulling her closer. She makes this low sound, and it almost undoes me.
I can’t believe I wasted two weeks pretending I hated her, when all I was doing was trying not to want her.
Her hands grip my shirt, tugging me closer, and I press her harder into the wall because space isn’t an option anymore. The way she fits against me is addictive. I can feel every curve, every shiver, and it’s not enough. Nowhere near enough.
My self-control? Gone. Shot to hell. The one thing I’ve always been proud of, the thing that makes me… it’s slipping right through my hands.
And all I can think about is how damn good she tastes. Same as her caramel mochaccino. How right it feels. How wrong it should be.
Karl’s face flickers in my head for half a second. My cousin. My brother in every way that matters. But then Olivia’s lips part under mine, hot and desperate, and the thought burns away as if it was never there.
I pull back just enough to see her face. Her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes wide and shining up at me. I don’t know if I’m something she wants to fight or fall for.
“Tell me to stop,” I rasp, even though the words nearly choke me.
She doesn’t. Her chin tips up, her breath ragged. “Don’t.”
Something inside me breaks. Whatever wall I built between us crumbles, and suddenly I’m moving and lifting her onto the counter, crowding into her space, kissing her as if I’ll never get another chance. Her knees bracket my hips, drawing me in, and I swear I feel her heartbeat pounding as hard as mine.
The kitchen disappears. There’s only Olivia… her taste, her heat, the way she clings to me. I’m the only thing keeping her steady.
I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, breathing her in. I need it more than air. She gasps my name, and that’s it. That’s the moment I know I’m lost.
This isn’t hate. This isn’t a mistake. This is everything I’ve been fighting, all at once, and it’s too strong to push back anymore.
I sink lower, pressing my mouth against her skin, her body trembling underneath me. Her fingers thread into my hair, urging me closer, and I give in, letting go of the last of my restraint.
Because for once in my life, I don’t want to be careful.
I just want her.
I growl. “Say you want this.”
Her lips part, her breath hot against my cheek. “I want this.”
I grip her thighs and drag her forward to the very edge of the counter, forcing a gasp from her. She’s trembling, clutching at my shoulders, but there’s no fear in her eyes: only heat, only hunger.
“Hold on,” I rasp, my hands anchoring her hips. “Because once I start, I’m not stopping until you break for me.”
The way she moans at that, low, needy, and undone, nearly wrecks me before I’ve even touched her.
I make quick work of her jeans, sliding them down her legs and tossing them aside before sinking to my knees.
I grip her thighs and drag my mouth up the inside of one, biting just hard enough to make her gasp. Then I hook my teeth into the thin edge of her panties and tug them down slowly, the fabric scraping across her skin until they fall uselessly around her ankles.
The sight of her, flushed, breathless, trembling against the counter with nothing left between us, nearly undoes me right then.
I don’t wait. I don’t think.
I spread her, firm grip locking on the backs of her thighs, and I bury my face between them. Her scent hits me first, sweet and sharp and dizzying, and then her taste floods my tongue.
Hot. Wet. Addictive.
I lick her desperately, I need to taste her to breathe, long strokes that have her gasping, then sharper flicks right where she’s most sensitive.
Her hands fist in my hair, tugging, trying to guide me, but I don’t let her. I hold her open and set the pace, slow at first, teasing circles that make her whimper, then sudden pressure that makes her cry out.
I suck her clit between my lips and swirl my tongue until her legs tremble against my shoulders.
