Page 66 of Out of Control

The days feel like years since I last tasted her, and I’m so overwhelmed by it that all I can think, all I can process, is more.

“Ollie,” she murmurs against my lips as my hands run up and down her back and press her into me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask like an idiot who doesn’t want her to stop doing whatever she’s doing. She’s here for me.

“I only have a few seconds. A few—”

Our lips meet again. Her fingers scrape up my neck and her teeth pull on my bottom lip. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel good on days when I shouldn’t.”

“Stop talking then,” I say against her lips and slow this kiss down. Take my time with it. My field of vision narrows, and she becomes the only thing I see. The only thing I feel.

And this time when the kiss ends, the hunger’s still there. It owns me. But cupping her face with my hands and looking into her eyes? It grounds me.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Yes. Of course.”

“You sure?”

She leans in to kiss me again. “For a lot of people this is a turn-on. The sneaking around. The stolen kisses. The not knowing when we’ll get to see each other next,” she whispers.

“And for others, getting to show their woman off to the world and claim her as theirs is the turn-on,” I reply.

Her lashes flutter and her lips part as she studies me. “Is that what you want?”

Fuck.

Shit.

“I’m drowning and not sprinkling,” I mutter.

“What?” she asks with a half laugh.

“Nothing.” I press a kiss to her lips. “Everything.” Another kiss as I chuckle at myself. “When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’m busy with—”

“Babysitting your papá.”

“This is who I am, Rossi.” She shrugs but the desire that filled her eyes now gives way to exhaustion.

“I know.” I try to let her know I understand. That I’m not judging. “Tonight? Tomorrow? When can I see you?”

“I’m here, but I’m not alone. I can’t . . . next week?”

I groan, protesting. “Okay. Yes.”

Another kiss.

“Be safe out there,” she whispers.

“Always.”

She runs her palm down the side of my face—it’s something I’ve noticed she likes to do, and I love having her do—and hesitates as her fingertips linger there. “Bye.”

“Ciao.”

She opens the door an inch and looks both ways before sneaking out. I’m sure it would go over really well if her brother walked down the hall about now.