Page 120 of The Young & the Sinner

“Yes, everything is okay. Why don’t you sit there while I prepare the food?” He pointed to the dining table adjacent to the kitchen. I shook my head.

“I don’t want to.”

I moved my hand down his back, loving the feel of his muscles tensing. He was so strong; he could easily break me. And I had never felt safer than I did then.

He let out a deep breath. “You need walk away, Olivia, before I do something we’d both regret.”

“You think I would regret it? That’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Baby, you’re playing a dangerous game. My self-control is tenuous at best.”

I smiled. “Good.”

Then I went up on my tiptoes and kissed him. I poured everything into the kiss, trying to tell him with my actions how I really felt about him wanting to take things slow.

I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this without freaking out or getting lost in my own head.

Mason stood as still as a statue, doing nothing more than grip the counter, as if to prevent himself from touching me. Maybe because he knew once he did, it would be game over.

And about ten seconds later, he lost.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and hauled me to his body. I gasped, and he took advantage of it to deepen our kiss, our teeth clashing against one another. He moved us so that I was against the counter, and he was in front of me, his body close to mine.

Mason broke away from the kiss, his lips swollen, his eyes hooded. We were both breathing hard, and I knew I looked the same way.

He never broke contact as he moved his hand down to my backside, giving it a decisive squeeze before moving back up again, inside my shirt.

I felt his rough hand on my stomach before reaching my waist, one hand on either side. I grew aroused just thinking about where he was heading next.

“Mason.”

“Shh. I’m just going to touch. That’s all. I’ll make you feel good.”

I swallowed loudly, the noise noticeable in the quiet room. His hands moved up, and he cupped my breasts. I gasped, though didn’t move away. I stayed where I was, looking down.

One hand moved to my back and he unbuckled my bra. I let out a stuttering breath when he moved again to the front of me. Then he grabbed my tits and I groaned. I could see movements inside my shirt as he played with me, weighing each globe in his hand before his fingers found my nipples and plucked at them.

“Oh, God,” I said when I felt the movement all the way down to my groin. I was wet. It wouldn’t take much before I came.

But then he moved his hand again, and I was going to beg him to move it back until I realized where he was heading.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.”

My cheeks flushed as I did what he asked. He pulled his hand out from under my shirt and cupped me between my legs. They nearly buckled out from underneath me in response. And even though my jeans were in the way, the warmth of his hand there was enough to drive me insane.

“Mason, please,” I begged. I wanted to feel him touch me without the barriers of clothing in the way.

“You’re so sensitive to my touch,” he gritted out, his eyes nearly dark. “Tell me how far I can take this. Tell me this is okay, Olivia.”

He squeezed me harder with each word, and my sex clenched, trying to find just the right pressure to push me off the edge.

I closed my eyes and nodded. This was okay.

“Baby, open your eyes. I need you tell me. Remember, you’re in control here. Whatever we do or don’t do is up to you. Got it?”

“I thought you were in control,” I teased.

He growled. “I’m in control when you give me your consent. But only if you give it to me. Understand?”

---