Page 158 of The Young & the Sinner

“Look at me,” I said, my voice stern.

Slowly, she moved her gaze up and met my eyes. “You can’t be presumptuous, not when it comes to things like this. I wouldn’t have shown you the house if I didn’t want to share it with you. I wouldn’t have brought the house next to my brother had I not known how much you loved and needed him as well.”

“You bought this house for me?” she asked, her voice whisper soft.

“I brought this for us. I should have asked you first, I know. But I wanted to keep this a surprise. But if you don’t like it, or if you feel like we’re rushing into things, you can still live with Max, for however long you want. I’ll be here, waiting for—”

She flung herself onto me. She was such a tiny little thing, I normally wouldn’t have a problem catching her, but she surprised me, and I felt myself stumbling a bit before I was able to right us.

“Sorry,” she said, her cheek reddening right before she buried her face in my chest. I tightened my arms around her just a little bit more.

I shook my head, smiling. “I’m guessing you like this?”

She pulled away slightly, and I liked how animated her brown eyes looked then. “Like it? I love it. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

And then she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down for a long, hard kiss. Olivia was usually so shy, she rarely ever initiated any contact between us. But I liked it when she was like this.

I liked how confident she’d gotten since the first time. That her past abuse hadn’t ruined her like it did me. I could still remember the years after I came home from the hockey camp. How promiscuous I had been. My way to assert control over my own body, I supposed.

For Olivia, it was different. If she was reserved when it came to things like sex before, she was even more closed off after. She couldn’t even wear makeup for the first couple of months, so afraid other men might look at her and think she was silently asking for it somehow. And that wasn’t her fault.

It was the way rape was treated in our society. The victims—the women—were usually to blame. They were either viewed as an accomplice to their own assault, or worse, an aggressor.

As if they had asked for it.

And I hated that.

I hated that there was even a chance Olivia had entertained the thought that it was her fault the bastard hurt her.

But now, she was confident.

And bold.

She once told me I wasn’t allowed to make decision for her about her body, even if it was under the logic that I was doing so to protect her.

And I got that.

Everything we’d done or hadn’t done so far was under Olivia’s power. Ultimately, it was her decision to either keep things the way they were or to speed things up, like she was doing now.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of my shirt until she got to the last one, then she pushed it off me. I briefly pulled away to pull her shirt off, then her bra. My hand automatically curved around one tit.

God, I loved her tits.

I could spend the rest of my life worshipping them, like my own personal religion. And I would be a devoted follower, no doubt about it.

Her breathing grew laborious as she worked my pants off of me. I helped her pulled them down, along with my boxer briefs, and kicked them away. Her hungry eyes took in every square inch of me, stopping on my engorged cock, right before she licked her lips.

With a groan, I pulled her in close to me and kissed her.

I kissed her like this was a dying man’s last wish. Kissed her like the desperate, desperate man I had become under her gaze. Kissed her like she was wholly mine—and she was, no matter what.

I could never let go of her now.

I was unworthy of her. My tarnished hands should have never touched someone so pure. So innocent… so young. And even though I knew it since the very beginning, I couldn’t help myself. I was a monster, but this monster was made to love only one woman.

And I loved her with everything in me.

I pulled off her black legging, along with her panties, loving the wet spot she left behind. We both looked down and stared at it, Olivia letting out a tiny, embarrassed sound.

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