“You're afraid of the dark?” His roped and muscled arms clutch around me tighter.
“In general, yes.” I cling to his suit sleeve, afraid he'll vanish if I can't feel him. “But it makes it worse if-if I'm in an … unfamiliar place.” My blood lessens its icy pumps when his hands slide down my spine.
“But I'm not unfamiliar, am I?” The question is a soft murmur, all the anger from the last two days mellowing, relenting to genuine warmth.
“Not totally, no.” That heat I felt the other day, that liveliness, I feel it all over again, scorching hot under my hands. My fingers curl, right against his heart, and I love the way the organ beats faster because of me.
In the dark, our frames mold together. It’s happening again. His warmth, gentle tone, and consideration are shifting the whole axis of my heart. It’s terrifying and so incredibly igniting that my breaths hurt. Actually every inch of me hurts for him. My mind dares me to think he was created to take away my fear and pain, despite him planting the same things inside. Something about him understands me.
I’m only scared because he draws out the deepest parts of me.
The thought sends my forehead pressing against his suit, shivering yet burning under his touch as his hands glide up to the small of my waist.
“I could beeven more familiar to you,” he purrs. “If you’d let me.”
That small voice, which dared me to believe in Brexton, is quickly being challenged by a new wave of uncertainty. “I’m not sure—”
He cuts off my reply by pulling me square into his chest, his lips brushing my ear. “Surrender to me, Olivia.”
The whisper booms in my heart, but doubt screams louder. “I-I-can't.”
“Why, darling?” He ghosts his lips across my forehead. “Are you scared of me? After the other day, I’m starting to doubt myself, wondering if everything I think I’m seeing is nothing but a lie because I want you so badly. So, tell me, is it me?”
“No-no,” I whisper broken and shivering. “It’s not you. It’s just…” I can’t finish or tell him about Lonnie.
“Then if I’m not the problem, let me in. Surrender to me.” No matter how gentle his voice is, I don’t miss the command mingling through his tone.
“You don’t understand ... I’ll get hurt. I always do; everyone always falls through.”
“You won't get hurt with me. Never.” Strong hands grip the backs of my arms, giving them a reaffirming squeeze—a sharp contrast to the soft lips brushing my forehead. “Olivia, I wouldn't let that happen.” His voice dips to a reaffirming rumble. “Darling, I couldn’t.”
His words break me, because I actually believe them.
My hands slowly inch up his body, inching for his tie. Rock-solid strength greets me all the way, making me desperate for more. My heart thuds in my ears. The connection with him leaves me urgent to feel him drive back my demons once again with his single kiss.
And I want him over me, and in me—suffocating my pain, choking out the voices in my head.
Hell, I just want him.
I find his tie, fumbling with the knot of the silky-smooth fabric and lose my breath, his name the only plea on my lips, escaping in a gasp.
It’s an open invitation.
Supple lips crash onto mine, and he groans. My arms fly around his shoulders, and I cling to him and our mouths fuse together.
We move together. He quickly shuffles me backward, until my spine presses into the cool support bar. Just like in his office, he pins me to the wall, and kisses me until I'm yearning for him to take what he needs.
A huff leaves him, and peppermint air pushes into my lungs—God, how I could live off that taste—he tastes like the strength I need.
One hand finds my thigh, and he grips it tight before slinging my leg over his hip. The position is leverage and a means to anchor us onto each other. Fingers squeeze, knead, and explore up and down my leg. His other hand cups the back of my head, shielding it from the metal wall.
I urge him in tighter, wrapping my calf around his lower back, nudging his frame into me. Then I nip his lower lip, and his cock hardens. He thrusts against my exposed inner thigh, and that's when I lose it. I press and grind onto the clothed and thickening bulge, wishing I could experience it without the barrier.
His hand tears away from my head, slamming onto the metal wall with a metallic bang, and he breaks our kiss. Breathless pants echo in the dark as I continue to rub against the straining growth. He groans, the heady sound reverberating through my nerve endings.
“Shit, Olivia.” The words are guttural as he falls into me with a pressing weight.
Fingers clutch into the back of my hair, allowing him full control of my head. Warm lips open wider, begging me to do the same, so I do. His tongue dives in, coaxing me to return the exchange. Stopping this isn’t a thought. We drink and taste each other, trying to get our fill, my fingers tangling in the thick hair of his nape the only thing grounding me.
Darkness isn’t my reality any longer. All that surrounds me is Grant. I’m barely aware of a button on my silk blouse being undone when the lights flick on.
The elevator roars, bringing us to a halt as it whizzes down once again.
Still panting, he glues his palm to the wall, then looks to the floor number. “Shit.”
We're almost to the bottom, and security is on the main floor.
He throws my leg down, his eyes and face tightened. “Button your blouse,” he snaps, tugging my skirt down.
I'm quick to obey. I see his tie and jacket are crooked and my hands reach out, straightening them both.
A new frenzy ensues. We're flat-out scrambling, readjusting each other's clothing. My fingers tuck his silk shirt into his trousers, while his hands yank at the hem of my pencil skirt to straighten it. When we've finished, we look a bit tousled but decent enough, considering what's just happened.
“Here.” He scoops down, picking up my phone and purse. After throwing them in my arms, he lifts his briefcase, smooths down the strands of hair I've undone and turns away from me.
The elevator stops and dings, but rather than letting the doors open, he reaches for the button to hold the doors closed. With a dexterous right hand, he digs out his wallet and flips it open. Using his thumb, he slides out a black key card. “Take this.” He tries to hand it off. “This is for my apartment.”
The sight of the card resurrects my senses. I shake my head. This was such a stupid idea, a complete disregard to my better judgment. “I can’t take that.”
“The fuck you can’t.” His eyes widen in response. “You’re coming over tonight. If you still have reservations, then we’ll at least talk everything out, but you’re a fool if you think I’m letting this go.”
“There’s nothing to let go of.” I attempt to move his hand away from the button, forcing my next words past my lips in a rush. “You’re reading too much into every—”
“The hell I am.” He dodges to the panel, cutting off my access. “You think I don’t feel the obvious when I’m kissing you?”
I toss hair off my shoulder, slightly baffled. “I’m afraid I don’t follow your meaning. I’m sure when you kiss me that it’s no different from when you kiss anybody else.”
“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard.” He scoffs. “How can anyone with half a heart not feel the shit you’ve been through? You need someone—anyone. I want to be that person.”
My breath sucks in at his directness, the words slicing so deep, a sharp sear hits my lungs and I have to look away.
“You see? There it is again. Fuck these games of denial, Olivia.”
Aggravation skitters up my chest, finally hitting my jaws as they clench. “Why?” My teeth grit with the question. “Why are you so dead set on making this happen—us happen? Can’t you see what a disaster this is going to be?”
“No. On the contrary, I see balance.” His pitch lowers, and he adjusts to stand a bit closer. “You might not understand this, but I have a strong need to be needed.”
My brows furrow, the frustration tucking itself away. “Don’t we all feel that way? I’m pretty sure that’s part of human nature.”