The Sweetest Oblivion (Made, #1)(83)
Nevertheless, I was glad I didn’t shoot Sebastian.
I liked the way he did business.
As soon as we pulled into the drive, I turned off the ignition and got out of the car. If I had to sit in there with her for another millisecond I’d crack.
She followed me to the back door, and I couldn’t help but to be aware of her every move. Her heel must have gotten stuck in a divot in the walkway, because she started tipping. I took a step back to reach out and steady her but was unprepared for her to fall into me.
I gritted my teeth at the impact. Her entire body pressed against my side, from her tits to her hips, and fuck, did it burn.
Jesus, this girl.
If I lasted the night, it would be a goddamn miracle.
The click of my heels echoed off the wooden floorboards, and my heartbeat replayed each reverberation against my breastbone.
It had only been days since I arrived here and stood in front of this door. The uncertainty I felt was the same, but something had shifted. The ache in my lower stomach had bloomed to fill every available space in my body. I could feel it—him—everywhere, and he wasn’t even touching me.
Nico typed something into the security system as I slipped off my heels. Stopping before the stairs, he glanced at me. His gaze was dark, shimmering, with an unfathomable depth.
“You good?”
“Good,” I breathed, though I felt close to bursting at the seams if he didn’t touch me.
He nodded once before he took the stairs one at a time and left me there, engaged and alone. Infatuated and burning. I stood there for a moment, with nothing but the sounds of a settling house for company.
Padding into the kitchen, I filled a glass of water and set it on the island, not taking a sip. I grasped the edge of the counter, closed my eyes, and let the pressure of what I needed from this man build until it felt like it was all I could breathe.
The stairs creaked beneath my bare feet, and I stopped at the top when I heard the shower running from his bathroom. Indecision ate at me, bit by bit, until I felt raw and naked. It would be so easy to let my dress hit the floor and slip into the shower with him. He wouldn’t turn me away, though that was never the reason for this waver inside of me.
So instead, I went into the hall bathroom. I turned the shower on hot and washed my hair with some other woman’s shampoo. And then I dried it with her hair dryer. In nothing but a towel, I paused in the hallway, the indecision strong enough it vibrated under my skin.
My bedroom door shut behind me and I leaned against it, stared at the ceiling and breathed. My heartbeat played a melody of fear, uncertainty, need. I slipped into a t-shirt and shorts and stood in the middle of the room.
He had something I wanted echoed in a deep timbre in my head. It was the last thought I had before I found myself in the hall, right outside his closed door.
Once I opened it, I could never go back. I knew it would change everything, but what I didn’t realize at the time was . . . everything already had.
“You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”
—Albert Einstein
HE DIDN’T LOOK UP AS I opened the door.
But he knew I was here.
He sat on the side of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his gaze on the floor. A dangerous haze permeated the air like tendrils of smoke. It felt as possessive as chains, looked like moonlight, and tasted like obsession.
Silver rays filtered through glass, illuminating his body but not his expression. Now that I was so close to him, breathing his air, feeling his presence that could effortlessly consume mine until I would cease to exist, the bravery that had brought me here disintegrated to dust.
My heartbeat tried to escape my throat, and an icy shiver ran through my blood, leaving my skin hot to the touch. I hadn’t known it was possible to want something so much and to fear it in equal measure. Hesitation stopped my feet and tugged at my heart. Nonetheless, I suddenly knew that even if I chose to change my mind and turn around . . . I wasn’t getting out.
Every inch of my body burned as I walked toward him. Sensitive as freshly waxed skin, his pants felt abrasive against my inner thigh as I forced my leg between his slightly parted ones. He didn’t look at me, nor did he widen his stance so I could step fully between his legs. My breaths and the drumming of my heart fluttered in the air before silence liquefied them.
I brushed a hand across his neck and into the thick hair at his nape. He let out a quiet, tense breath. A heady warmth poured off his shirtless chest, and I absorbed it like an addict. My fingers laced through the soft strands, gripping a handful like I’d done days ago.
Feather-light, his hands skimmed up the backs of my thighs, and my pulse sparked like crackles in a fire. My breasts were bare beneath my shirt, heavy and tight so close to his face. He only had to lift his head to put his mouth on them, to relieve them of this pressure.
His fingers grew firmer on my thighs, gripping the flesh, caressing it. Something tugged on my stomach from the inside as the fiery heat of his palms burned through my skin. Every squeeze sent a thrum between my legs, settling into an empty ache. My breaths came out ragged and shallow while he remained silent, as though what he was doing deserved his full concentration.
The haze in the air began to thicken, to flare, to burn with every inhale.
My stomach tightened as his hands inched beneath my cotton shorts, teasing the curve of my cheeks with a touch I was beginning to believe was singular. His palms slid under the hem and gripped two handfuls of my ass. A throaty sigh escaped as he kneaded the flesh. Tingles, hot and slick, pooled between my legs, and my fingers curled in his hair.