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“So kiss me.” My voice shakes, mimicking the way my body trembles beneath him.
“I… I can’t.”
“You can. I’m not glass, Reese. I won’t break.”
I anchor my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down on top of me. He resists at first, letting out a heavy sigh as he tries to keep some space between us.
“Please,” I beg.
“Fuck,” he rasps, nudging his nose against mine, breathing me in.
“Kiss me, Reese. Just kiss—”
His mouth crashes down on mine, stealing the air from my lungs. He hovers above me, careful not to drop all of his weight onto me. But I want to feel him. I need it.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He pulls back, his chest heaving between us.
“You won’t.” I gaze up at him.
“He hurt you… because of me.”
“So make it better.”
“Fuck, Olivia. You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” I lift my chin in defiance. “Make me forget, Reese. Make me—”
He collars my throat gently, kissing me harder. Deeper. Our tongues tangle, his wrapping around mine, dominating me.
“Is Oak—”
“At the Chapel.” Reese breathes the words against my lips. “But your dad and my mum are—”
“On the other side of the house. They won’t hear us. I’ll be quiet.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” He pulls back to look me in the eye, but the heat there dims. “You’re hurt—”
“I’m fine. Stop making excuses. I want this… I want you, Reese.”
“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s at war with himself, tormented about whether or not to give me what I want.
“I’m not having sex with you,” he says, making my heart tumble. I start to protest, but he pins me with a dark look. “You can’t expect me to do that, not yet. Not after he—”
His eyes shutter again, but I rest my palm against his cheek, bringing him back to me.
When his eyes flicker open, what I see takes my breath away. But I don’t have time to question it, because Reese rolls off me and tucks me into his side, my back pressed up against his chest.
“You seriously want to sle—”
His fingers splay against my stomach and slide downward, toying with the waistband of my pyjama shorts.
“I’m going to make you come,” he whispers against my ear, “and you’re going to be as quiet as a mouse.”
Shoving his hand inside my shorts, his fingers glide through my soft curls.
“R-Reese,” I choke over the air caught in my lungs.
“Quiet, remember?” He nips the skin beneath my ear. “Or I’ll stop.”
