Page 92 of Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia 1)

“Olivia, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” he pulled me against his hard length, “don’t make this any harder on me.”

I grinned. “I don’t think you can get any harder.”

He groaned. “You’re really trying to kill me.”

“Ah, but what a pleasant death it would be,” I ran a finger from the indent of his collarbone, straight down, hooking it into the edge of his boxers.

His hand closed around mine. He swallowed thickly. “It’s too soon, Olivia. But I want to, so bad.”

“Then don’t hold back,” I coaxed. “I’m ready.”

His hands flexed against my waist as I watched an internal battle rage across his face.

I was about to resort to begging, but before I could open my mouth, his lips were on mine as he resigned to the inevitable.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, as I pressed against him, closer, closer, closer. I knew I wouldn’t be close enough until our bodies had melded together, and even that, I was sure, wouldn’t be close en

ough.

He pulled back and lifted my sweatshirt off of my head, throwing it to a far corner of the room. My long sleeved t-shirt quickly followed and I was left in only my bra and jeans.

He kneaded my breasts through the thin cups of my bra before undoing the clasps and tossing it as well.

He pulled me against him so that we were chest to chest. I felt his heart racing as quickly as mine and I was pleased to know I wasn’t the only one affected by this. I wasn’t naïve; I knew Trace had loads of experience in this department.

“You can still tell me to stop,” he panted breathlessly.

“I’m not asking you to,” I ran a finger along the curve of his jawline, “and I won’t ask you to.”

“Okay,” he whispered, standing. My legs wrapped around his waist and he held me tightly against him, his hands clasped below my butt. “I’ve got you,” he assured, nudging his bedroom door open further, and laying me down on the mattress. The covers were pushed down to the bottom of his bed from his haste to answer the door when I arrived.

He stood, gazing down at me, and I blushed shyly as he scrutinized my body. I was still wearing my jeans, but the way he looked at me, made me feel as if I was bare everywhere else.

“You’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” he crooned.

He leaned down and I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the light pressure of his lips meeting mine. Instead, I felt a slight tug, and the ponytail holder holding my braid in place, came undone. He fanned my hair around my head and appraised his work. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, Olivia,” he whispered.

I reached for his arm and felt the muscle flex at my touch.

“I’m getting lonely down here,” I pulled him slightly closer and he moved the rest of the way.

“I can’t have you getting lonely, can I?” He grinned. He scooted me up the bed until I lay in the center and covered my body with his. His fingers rubbed against my jean-clad center and I arched against his touch. He popped the button with deft fingers and eased the zipper down. My breathing accelerated.

My only experience with sex had been nothing like this.

That time had been clumsy and fast while this was slow and intimate.

Trace’s eyes met mine when the zipper could go no further.

He scooted down in the bed, placing tender kisses along my breasts, and stomach as he went.

He spread my thighs apart, and not taking his eyes from mine, he blew a gust of hot air against where I needed him the most.

This was torture.

The sweetest, most delicious, kind of torture, but torture nonetheless.

He hooked his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans, tugging them down slowly. Trace kissed each piece of skin my jeans uncovered. Not a centimeter was left untouched by his lips.

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