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“Happy Valentine’s Day, Olivia,” he crooned in my ear, burying his face into my hair.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Trace,” my eyes closed as I leaned against his hard chest.
He brushed my hair over my shoulder and kissed my neck tenderly.
My body instantly responded to his tender touch.
I turned in his arms, and reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me onto the counter, staring at me. For once, I couldn’t read what he was thinking behind his bright green eyes.
In a flash, he cupped the back of my neck and pulled me to him, kissing me long and deep.
His hand ventured down, over my breast and ribcage, and he used both to grip my thighs, pulling me against his hips.
A moan escaped me when I felt the hard length pressing against my center. I may have been tired before, but now, I was wide-awake.
I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders.
He backed a step away; gazing at me with lust filled eyes, as he removed the shirt the rest of the way, pulling the wife-beater over his head. He stepped forward again, holding me against his torso as he kissed me passionately. My hands were trapped between us and I used that to my advantage, running my fingers over the smooth planes of his abs, memorizing the dips and curves of his body.
Suddenly, he lifted me from the counter, and carried me into the bedroom.
He laid me gently on bed and covered my body with his.
I gripped his cheeks in my hands, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of my palms, as he kissed me.
He undressed me slowly, taking his time exploring every plane of my body.
I started begging for more, but he only chuckled in reply.
When we finally came together, my only thought was: Perfect.
c h a p t e r
Twenty Six
“Avery, we’re only going to the beach for five days. Do you really need to pack so much stuff?” I glared at my roommate as she tried to squeeze ‘one last thing’ into her already overflowing suitcase.
“Yes!” She cried. “I never know what I might need!”
“Still,” I shrugged, “it seems like you could make do without it.”
She gasped. “Olivia!”
“What?” I asked innocently.
“I swear,” she shook her head, her red hair swishing around her shoulders, “sometimes, I wonder if you’re a girl.”
“I’m a girl,” I assured her with a smile as I sat on my bed, my packed—not-to-the-brim—suitcase, sat on the floor by the door. “I just don’t need as much stuff as you seem to need.”
“This,” Avery pointed to her face, “takes time, Livie. I need all my makeup, and my flat iron, and-”
“I get it,” I held up a hand to shut her up, “your highness.”
Thirty minutes later, the guys were outside waiting for us, and Avery still wasn’t ready.
“Hurry up,” I begged, desperate to leave, and start the almost five hour drive.
“I’m almost ready,” she insisted, trying to close her second suitcase.
