Page 40

Olivia

“Y ou’re sure you don’t need help?” I ask, chin propped on my knuckles. I sit at the marble counters of the guest house, watching Crew paint away the inside of the cabinet drawers.

Crew’s eyes lift for the third time, and he shakes his head before offering the paint brush. I grin in victory, “Since you won’t quit pestering.”

“Pestering,” I mock, snatching the brush. I lift a brow in challenge, carefully painting the drawer with a precise hand. “I think you’re just upset I’m doing it better than you.”

He huffs, the only indication he heard me, and I smile as he dusts his hands on his jeans and grabs a clean paint roller from nearby. He ceremoniously dumps a can of blue paint in the tray by my leg, splashing globs on me in the process.

I gape.

“Whoops,” he quips.

He did it on purpose.

I sit up, flicking paint at him and smiling when it covers his arm in navy.

“Dangerous game you’re playing,” he says darkly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say sweetly, but as soon as he’s distracted, I dip my brush in paint and aim for his leg.

Only, he’s expecting it. He catches my arm but the paint smears his pant leg anyways. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me when he growls in frustration. Until he releases me and smears the paint on his hands. He grabs a painted fistful of my shirt and drags me close.

We’re only inches away, his breath fanning my lips. Suddenly, the teasing is gone, replaced by something else.

Something hotter .

“Like I said,” he husks, eyes dropping to my mouth. “Dangerous game.”

I shake my head, the movement so small I’m not sure I’ve moved. “This doesn’t feel dangerous to me.” His eyes flicker to mine, and before I can register that he’s moved, he wipes a painted hand over my forearm, coating me. I gasp, shoving him back as he breaks into a fit of laughter.

“You don’t play fair!” I use my shirt to wipe the sticky residue off my skin. Even though I’m in the middle of plotting his downfall, we’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“Oh.”

We freeze when we see Theresa and Jimmy standing in the doorway, watching us make a mess of everything. She backtracks with a knowing smile, tugging Jimmy. “Looks like everything’s good here, Honey-“

“We were just finishing up,” Crew says, offering a hand to help me up. I take it, brushing my hands on my pants and trying my best not to look guilty.

Theresa pats Jimmy’s chest shoving him back through the door. “We’ll have dinner on the porch.” She winks, and I flush bright red. “You two are welcome to join us when you’re done.”

I blow out a breath when the door shuts.

“Why do I feel like a kid that just got reprimanded?” Crew laughs, rolling his neck.

“We made a mess.”

Paint is splattered everywhere, our hand prints left in places they shouldn’t be.

A smile still plays on his lips. “Yeah. I’ll clean up here if you wanna shower. I’ll grab one after you.”

I try not to let my mind wander at the thought. “Okay. I’ll see you outside then.”

Later, Theresa and Jimmy are already sitting on the porch when I step outside, freshly showered. Theresa smiles when she sees me.

The smell of garlic and thyme is heavy on the air, and as they both bow their heads and whisper a quick prayer, I close my eyes out of respect. Crew joins us, looking cleaned up now.

Dinner passes on a soft breeze, and with a bottle of wine to share, it passes with bits of laughter and conversation. It’s easy. Happy even.

“You seem to be feeling better,” I say toward Jimmy.

It’s true. He isn’t bound to the wheelchair now. He’s moving around on his own, and he’s gotten some color back to his face.

His attention shifts to Crew. Then Theresa. “I’m glad to have my family back under the same roof.” The words make Crew tense fractionally. I wonder if I’m the only one who notices. Jimmy adds, “You should come and kick his ass at cards more often. We could all use the laugh.”

My heart warms at the invitation. But I’m hit with the sudden reminder that this week… everything that’s happened…

Sleeping together, playing cards and talking until early in the morning… It isn’t reality. It’s a week that wasn’t meant to happen.

“I’ve enjoyed being able to get to know you. It’s been amazing,” I say, and I hate that I can feel a but on the tip of my tongue.

But... this ends soon.

“You’re… You’re welcome back anytime,” Jimmy says, and the fact that he’s the one to say it makes my heart swell.

Crew’s voice is hoarse as he stands abruptly. “Olivia, can you help me with the dishes?”

“Sure.”

He gathers two handfuls and heads inside. I hide my confusion, gathering a stack and following. He slides the patio door open, and the dishes clatter on the counter. My steps slow when I see him running a hand through his hair.

I stop, carefully setting the dishes down.

Something is very wrong.

“Crew?” He grips the counter so hard his knuckles are white. “What’s going on?”

He whips around so fast I knock into the island. He shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. “You never should have trusted me.”

My stomach sinks. “What are you talking about?”

He closes the distance between us, hands finding my jaw and tilting my mouth toward his.

And then he’s kissing me.

Crew Warden is kissing me, and I barely have a moment to savor it before he rips away.

“Fuck, Liv. All I can think about is touching you.”

I’m a panting mess as he paces backwards, an obvious war raging inside him. He drags his eyes back to me.

“Tell me not to touch you.”

Words are caught in my throat.

I can’t tell him that.

He continues. "Tell me that touching you is a bad idea. Tell me I should respect your father's wishes."

My father's wishes? I want to ask, but I'm so confused, so torn, that I can hardly say anything.

I breathe, “I- We said one time. One time to get it out of our systems-“

His voice is low and gravely. “ Fuck one time.” When he looks at me, I don’t know what to say- to do, to feel.

“I-“

“Do you guys need any help in here?” Theresa’s voice pulls us apart, and I look away.

“We’re okay! You guys head to bed.”

His parents wave goodnight, and as they climb the stairs, I try to ignore him.

It’s clear he doesn’t know what he wants .

I focus on the pile of dishes, but it’s hard when I can feel him watching me. I flip on the sink, filling the basin with soap as he grabs a towel and wordlessly dries the dishes as I wash.

It’s enough of a distraction that when we finish, I don’t feel quite as hot. I dry my hands and look to see indecisiveness still written all over his face.

“I’m gonna call it a night.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I freeze at that.

He’s sorry.

He’s sorry ?

“You’re sorry you kissed me or you’re sorry you said you wouldn’t?”

When he doesn’t answer, I shake my head and head outside. I hate this game we’re playing. I’m tired of feeling conflicted.

At least I’m willing to admit it .

I’m almost to the guest house when I hear him:

“Olivia.”

“I’m mad at you,” I tell him, not stopping. He catches the door before it slams behind me.

“Olivia-“

“What??” I say, whirling to look at him.

“Be mad at me. Be furious at me. Yell if you have to, but never walk away.”

“What do you want?” I hate that my voice breaks as I say it. I hate that he still doesn’t answer.

I shake him off, taking the stairs. But he grabs my hand at the top, turning me. He takes a step closer- then another and another until my head is in his hands again. His lips are a breath away, but this time, I don’t stop myself from gripping his wrists, holding onto him like he’s a lifeline.

“I’m not sorry for kissing you,” he says, voice sure. “I’m sorry because my restraint is hanging by a thread. I’m sorry because you deserve a gentleman… But I just can’t help myself.”

I stand on my toes and bridge the gap between us. He's warm, his hands rough, and as soon as our lips meet, he tugs me closer. His tongue sweeps my mouth, and he groans, hips pinning me against the door.

This kiss isn’t like the first. It’s slow. Consuming. Intoxicating.

Forbidden .

But I can’t find it in myself to give a damn.

My hands tug at his hair, and at the sound he makes, my head falls back. His lips travel down my jaw, leaving a path of hot kisses to my shoulder. When his lips brush my pulse there, I gasp.

His lips find mine again, this kiss punishing. Rough. Filled with need. His hands find my ass, and then he lifts me, hooking my legs around him. I draw back, my breath heavy. His muscles tense when I drag my fingertips down his neck, his eyes fluttering shut as his nose brushes mine. He nudges me to look at him, and I do. His eyes are so dark, so full of lust and want and emotion.

“If you want me to stop, I will, Princess. But I need you to tell me now.”

I don’t want you to stop . But a sudden wave of nervousness washes over me.

It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone that…

“I know what I want,” I tell him, still breathless. “It’s just… been a long time since…”

His laugh is barely a breath, but it’s the smile playing at his mouth that really does me in. “It’s been a long time for me too.” His next kiss is tender, as if savoring my taste, but he draws back once more. “Do you trust me?”

I nod, rolling my hips against him. “I’ve always wondered if you were the respectful, gentlemanly type.”

“Take off your clothes.” His breath skims my neck as he drops me down, hands at my waist. “Because I’m going to fuck you with nothing but disrespect.”

I tremble at the words, backing up until my knees hit the mattress. Only then do I reach for my shirt, tugging it off and letting it drop. My shorts are next.

“Fuck, Liv,” he husks, eyes tracing every curve, every line, every muscle. My cheeks burn at the obvious effect I have on him. “Don’t,” he says as I reach for the lacy thong I’m wearing.

I pause, and his hands find the bow in my hair. He tugs gently until the silk comes free. My hair tumbles down. “Turn around and bend over for me.”

Slowly, I do as I’m told even though my heart races. I bend over the edge of the bed, bracing my hands against the mattress. When I feel his hand tugging my hair over my shoulders, I nearly jump. But I relax into his touch, biting back a moan as his hands travel down the curve of my back. Then my ass.

His touch disappears.

“Face down. Give me your hands,” his voice is strained.

Mindlessly, I listen. He grabs my wrists, using my ribbon to bind them together. Not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to make me buck when his fingers dip beneath the band of my panties and tug.

“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to touch you?” he says, dragging the lace down my thighs. “To taste you?” He kneels, and I gasp when I feel his breath against my pussy. I hate that I’m already weeping and trembling for his touch. “Can you be a good girl and stay still?” he asks, and before I can answer, he buries his face between my legs.

I cry out as his tongue finds my slit, licking and teasing. My hands pull against the binding.

“Crew-“ I gasp, but he silences me with another sweep of his tongue.

Arousal builds inside me, my skin on fire, my breath coming out in gasps. He palms my ass, spreading my thighs wider and feasting on me, and I nearly come apart as I press into the mattress.

“Please.” I gasp when I feel his tongue stroke over my clit, sending a wave of pleasure through me. “Crew…” My voice falls off as his tongue delves deeper, teasing a spot I never knew was possible.

But he draws back, pressing a kiss to my thigh as his breath fans my legs. “Do you want me to stop?” I shake my head as he presses another kiss to the opposite thigh. “What do you want?”

You , I want to cry as he presses another kiss along the curve of my ass. Then another and another, tracing up until he kisses the small of my back, my spine.

His voice is low, gruff at my waist, the sound going straight between my legs. “Use your words, Princess.”

“I want you to quit teasing me,” I huff, the frustration in my voice clear now.

His satisfied chuckle is like velvet, and I swear, I flush at the sound. It’s a little teasing, a lot sexy, and all satisfied.

“I’ve waited too long not to take my time with you,” he says, and then I feel his thumb trace the line of my bra, snapping it against my skin gently. “On your back.” I feel him untie the silk, releasing my arms.

Breathless, I sit up, watching as his eyes drink in every inch of me. Up to my long blonde hair, my eyes, my tits covered in a thin layer of lace. Down to my pussy, still wet and aching from his tongue. He gnaws at his lip before finally meeting my eye again.

“Take off your bra. Then give me your hands.”

I gulp at the words, trying my best not to shake as I reach for my bra clasp. I unhook it, slowly sliding the straps down. The fabric falls, and while normally, I’d be embarrassed at how small I am, I don’t have it in me when he’s looking at me like I’m the most breathtaking thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

I raise my hands, crossing my wrists and offering them to him.

“You are devastating,” he whispers, tying my arms in front of me.

He reaches down, laying me flat on my back. He lifts my hands above my head and ties them to the headboard, revealing my body completely. He hums, his thumb teasing one nipple, tracing it. My back arches at the contact. A bolt of pleasure flickers down my spine when he pinches it, but he chases the feeling with his mouth. His tongue flicks my nipple, circling it gently, and then biting down as I cry out.

“Oh my god,” I moan as he moves his attention to the other.

The feeling of his mouth alone is almost too much. I ache to lean into every touch, to make him feel even a fraction of the euphoria he makes me feel.

He pins my hands to the headboard when I move. “Stay still, Princess.”

“Crew, please,” I whine when he nips at my nipples again.

He groans, breath hot against my skin. “Fuck, you sound incredible when you beg for me.”

“Don’t make me beg,” I gasp.

“Patience,” he chastises, and I groan when he chuckles.

I hear the sound of his buckle unfastening. He tugs off his belt as he presses another kiss between my breasts.

Suddenly, he stands, tugging his shirt off. Every inch of his skin is tanned, rippling, perfection. I watch as he reaches for his zipper, tugging it down to reveal the dusting of hair leading to his boxer briefs. I can see how hard he is, how badly he wants this too… and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

But that lingering kernel of worry makes an appearance.

What if there’s all this buildup and I still can’t get out of my head?

“I want your eyes on me,” he coaches as if he can see the thoughts clouding my head.

I do as he says, watching him intently as he loses his pants. He’s standing before me in just his boxers, and I’m still shaking like a leaf.

“Do you like when I use my mouth?” he asks, and I nod as he leans over me.

His lips skim my own in a brief kiss, but they travel down my neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he goes. Each kiss is electric, making every sliver of worry ebb away. When he steps out of his boxers and I see his length spring free, I try not to panic as I imagine fitting him, but he tips my chin up, forcing my eyes to his.

“Focus on my mouth, Princess.”

Then he kisses me again, sharing my taste between our lips. I can hear the sound of him ripping open a condom, rolling it on as he nips at my bottom lip. This kiss is hungry, possessive, and it does little to ease the ache as he adjusts himself at my entrance and pushes into me.

I moan, gasping as his tongue skims my mouth. He works us into a rhythm, thrusting once. Twice. Filling me. I feel the pleasure building again, the ache turning into waves of heat. Just when I might lose it, he groans, hand finding my ass and squeezing. It only fuels me, making the flame burn hotter until I’m sure there’s no going back.

Nothing’s ever felt like this because it’s never been him .

It’s as I realize it that I feel my orgasm peaking. I break away, gasping as I feel myself shatter. My vision goes hazy as he rocks into me harder, breath heavy as we chase a high. But it doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, Liv. Just like that,” he groans.

His pace quickens, the bed rattling as he fucks me, his hand cradling my head as he finds his own release in me. I know as our movements slow, that it’s him .

It’s not just sex. It’s not just a phase.

Everything I want… It’s Crew Warden.

The realization is enough to rattle me, my eyes still closed as he drops his head to mine and we come down together. I should feel embarrassed. Scared maybe, but when I open my eyes and see him gazing down at me, I don’t feel any of those things.

He pulls out, unlacing my hands from the headboard and sitting us up, our bodies still together.

“I don’t want to go back,” I confide suddenly, and even though it’s probably a little random and a lot crazy, he smiles.

He brushes a few strands of hair out of my eyes. For a few long, quiet moments, his eyes drink in my face. His thumb traces the apple of my cheek, fingers tracing my lips.

There’s no taking back what we did, but I’m past the point of being worried about it.

“I think we can both agree…” he starts carefully. “We can worry about that later?”

The words melt over me, chasing every anxious thought away. When he kisses me again, I don’t let myself consider what might be waiting for us when we get back.