Page 73 of Café Diablo

Olivia runs her hands up the length of my arms, kneading my muscles as she goes. It releases a wicked moan from me because her fingers are both sin and heaven. She nips at my lip, trying to keep this playful, when obviously she can feel all the tension knotted in my body as her hands ascend.

“Don’t worry,” she says, threading her fingers through mine and arching her sweat-misted body against my front. “I carry a hacksaw in my purse.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Do you want to bicker about the contents of my purse?” she sasses. “Or do you want to get back to the part where I was about to fuck your brains out?”

I growl, squeezing her fingers and shooting a hard stare at her.Obviously, I want to go back to the fact that she’s naked and wet and has crawled up my body like a damn demon. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m royally pissed off about being handcuffed to my bed without an escape plan.

“I have control issues,” I grumble.

“I’m aware of that,” she teases, rolling her hips softly against my thighs and causing her ass to brush against my balls.

“Damn you,” I snarl, because the motion is completely unfair—everything about this situation has me at a disadvantage.

“Mmmmm,” she moans in agreement, continuing to undulate, the motion causing her nipples to drag up and down my chest intoxicatingly.

Iwantmy hands!

I want to be able to grab her ass and push her so hard onto my cock she’s gasping and shocked.

I want to turn rogue like the other night on the beach.

“I prefer all escape routes to be thoroughly marked,” I gripe, to which she smiles, running her hands back down the breadth of my thick arms.

“Do you need to escape me, Edwin Voss?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

She kisses me again, pressing her lithe body against my skin. Her hands slide over the sides of my ribs, fingers wide and exploring up and down my sides, from hips to underarms. It’s an erotic tickle that finds intimate skin that’s not normally so accessible.

I can do little more than lift my knees and tilt her in closer to me and kiss her back. Our mouths unite, but the lance of our tongues doesn’t have the heat and charge from earlier. Instead, this is a kiss that’s softer and more tentative, igniting a different kind of kindling between us that’s more than lust and sin. It makes me want to let down my guard and give in to her completely—force myself to push past the ratchet in my heart that’s handcuffed and trapped.

When we pull apart, our breathing is in sync and she leans her forehead against mine softly. “I’m sorry about the handcuffs,” she says. “I didn’t realize you didn’t have the key. Sometimes, I act before thinking. I’ll figure out a way to get them off. I promise.”

“Hey,” I whisper back, wishing I could wrap my arms around her and crush her against my chest. “The handcuffs are super-hot.You’resuper-hot. I know you weren’t doing anything malicious, I just panicked for a minute. Okay? Hell, more than a minute. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my heart is still beating fast enough to give me a damn heart attack right now.”

Concern wracks through Olivia’s beautiful face and I brush a kiss against her pink mouth.

“It’s been a shitty day,” I continue to explain. “Everything else, not you,” I clarify. “All this mess with my father and my practice. The second I felt those cuffs slap around my wrists, I—I just—”

I breathe against her mouth, trying to calm myself, but my heart keeps ticking up its panic till it’s a damn hummingbird with wings beating incessantly.

“It freaked me out because I knew there wasn’t a key,” I finish. “And I suddenly felt like I couldn’t get away. That I was trapped, and—”

“Edwin,” Olivia says gently, her hand coming up to brush the sides of my face. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned wanting to escape. Don’t you trust me? Or is…”

Her words dissolve into the silence of breath between us, her question searing into my skin. The warmth of her hands on my cheeks is a suffocation I don’t expect, and suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.

I don’t trust anyone.

Fact.

Not just her. Anyone.

I’ve spent the last several years keeping myself mobile, flexible, independent—because I didn’t have Connor or my father to depend on. They both hung me out to dry and my only defense was to be nimble and resilient and able to pivot at a moment’s notice.

I never let down my guard.

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