Page 55 of Out of Control

And it’s then I begin to move.

In. Out. Over and over.

With her hands on me. Her lips against mine. And every fucking thing about her seared into my mind like a painful brand I welcome.

Because this is pain in its most beautiful form. To want something you’re not good enough for. To need someone you know will leave. To become infatuated with someone you know you can’t have.

And yet I’m still here.

Still driving myself to the brink of release from what she makes me feel.

“Sofia,” I grit out as my body takes over and my control snaps. Her laced fingers behind my neck ease up as she meets my eyes.

“Let me watch you,” she says, and those are the last words I hear as I succumb to the moment. To the lust her body brings me. To the desire just being with her creates.

I hold her stare as long as I can until I can’t anymore. With my eyes closed, I shout as I come. Hard and fast and overwhelmingly.

It was a forgone conclusion.

One that shouldn’t rock boats or move mountains.

But I am rocked.

And I am moved.

And when I stop jerking my hips, when I collapse onto her sweat-misted chest, when her fingernails skim up and down the length of my spine, I’m at a loss for so many things.

The biggest one is . . . where do we go from here?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sofia

It feels like last time—the pleasure, the satisfaction, the want for more—but so very different.

He’s still here beside me.

He’s more than just a mystery now.

He brought me home last night and didn’t try anything with me.

We lie on our backs in the bed where we’ve migrated to, in that awkward, we just had sex, what do we do now moment, and I struggle with what to do or say.

“So, what do you like to do in your time off?” I ask.

He barks out a laugh. “Are we back on this whole even footing thing?” He shifts, turning on his side to face me and resting his head in his hand. “It’s okay to have sex and it not be awkward. It’s okay to have sex, decide you’re both going to take a shower, and then . . . have more coffee. And it’s okay to lie in this bed that still smells like sex and relive every incredible moment of it.”

I turn, mirroring his posture, and smile. Jesus. He’s . . . so damn attractive. Bedhead. Scruff on his chin. I just had him and I already want him again. “It was incredible, wasn’t it?”

My grin never stops. How can it? Neither does the ache that that simmering look he gives me continues to stoke.

“It was.” He reaches out and cups my breast, letting his thumb run absently back and forth over my nipple. I think the man is slowly trying to kill me by sensual torture.

“You’re not anything like they say you are, you know,” I murmur.

He purses his lips and gives the slightest of nods. “You forget. I don’t care what anyone says about me.”

“Everybody cares, Ollie.” There are times that I wish I didn’t.