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"Say it, " I press. He assesses me with side-eye, unwilling to take his eyes off the road. His demeanor is cautious, having changed that quickly, and I can already taste the rejection on his tongue. He lets out an enormous sigh, looking physically pained.
"As much as me and my cock want to take you home tonight, I can't."
“Why? Are you secretly married?” There’s more on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate in saying it. I don’t know where the extent of his kink lies, but between him, my smutty reads, and how open Mia is about sex, I want to try it all. He looks at me incredulously, but says nothing for so long that I think he actually may be. The words roll off my lips before I can stop them.
“I’d be into playing with her, too, especially if she’s half as hot as you are.” I bite my lip. He groans into his hands. “No, Olivia. I don’t have a secret wife. Who hurt you? I assure you I wouldn’t be here if I did. I don’t cheat, although now I’m imagining going down on you as you go down on said imaginary wife.”
Ignoring his question, I probe the more interesting topic at hand. “Do you have a type? I usually prefer brunettes and dark hair, but Mia’s fucking hot. I could fuck a blonde.”
“Why are we playing this game?” he asks suspiciously.
“Why not? You said anything goes tonight, right? You still owe me an explanation about not taking me home.”
“Mia? Your roommate Mia?” His eyes bulge out. “Christ, Olivia. I wasn't expecting you to lay a trap for me.”
“A trap? I'm just curious if we have the same type. What would your wife look like?”
He smirks. “Are you genuinely curious, or do you just want to fantasize about fucking her as well?”
“You know, you once told me I was a menace. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pompous ass?” I reach across the center console to slap his arm, but he seizes my hand in his. His palm is warm and comfortable, soothing me and setting me ablaze again all over again.
“I assure you that you wouldn’t be surprised at the amount of times I’ve been called a pompous ass.”
“To answer your question, both.” I give a mischievous grin.
“You’re always full of surprises, Olivia. And torture. Definitely torture.”
“You said two choices. What’s the other choice?”
“Dessert, but first a road trip.” We settle into the drive, hands tangled, and too comfortable for our own good.
Chapter Fourteen
Tomas
Hericyfingersinterlacewith mine, and I instantly consider dragging her back to my car. How she doesn’t have frostbite is beyond me. I turn my head to tell her we have to go. It’s too cold. It’s too late. The smile she has on her face is so wide, so stunning and infectious that my heart skips a beat, and the words die on my tongue. We keep walking hand-in-hand along the frigid shoreline. My heart skips a beat with every step, every ticking of the clock. The waves roar in the background as soothing white noise for my sizzling nerves. If you asked me while we headed to dinner, I would’ve told you this entire thing was lust driven, but now? Now I’m not so sure.
Theoretically, dinner seemed wise. My only goal was to eliminate some of the allure and fuck her out of my system. That plan was proving to be more difficult as the time on the clock ticked our hours away. She’s becoming a more enigmatic portrait, the details increasingly beautiful the more I notice. She senses me studying her and gives me a rueful smile.
“Cold?” She shakes her head. “How could I be when I'm in the same vicinity as you?”
“Your hands tell a different story, even the one I'm holding.”
She pulls away from me, and her expression shifts under the pale light of the moon. Without warning, she turns her back to me and walks towards the ocean.
“Olivia?” She doesn't answer, walking determinedly. I watch her shrug off my jacket. It falls to the sand soundlessly. Her white thong lands on top of it. The matching bra comes next, and finally, she turns her head towards me a fraction of an inch, just to make sure I'm watching. How could I not? Finally, her dress falls in the heap as she steps forward.
She’s as white as a ghost—ethereal, really—and I can't look away. Walking into the waves calmly and self-assured, I watch her splash for a few seconds until she comes running back. She shivers, but laughs. Her laugh is invigorated, wild, and free. It’s so unlike the poised, calculated, perfect girl I’m used to seeing that my breath hitches. What I wouldn’t give to feel likethat.Grabbing her clothes and scooping her into my arms, I carry her frigid body back to my car.
Sitting next to me, she’s so fucking tempting. I consider knocking the door down on every bed-and-breakfast in Cape Cod and fucking her right now, but it’s late and we have class tomorrow.
Between the heat, my seat heaters, and my jacket, Olivia warms up quickly.
“Why are you putting those back on?” I gesture to her white panties, currently hanging around her ankles.
“Hand them over,” I say, hand outstretched. Olivia doesn’t immediately move, just gives me a long look until she finally relents and pulls them off. I stuff them in my pocket and she smirks. “I hope you keep them in your office drawer.”
There’s my forward little temptress. “Why?”
