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Excuses.
I’m sitting here scraping for excuses as to why kissing her and touching her is a bad idea.
“I’m tougher than you think,” she swats her damp hair behind her ears and drags her hands across her face. “I can be tough,” she mumbles the second part, and I chuckle.
“You don’t know how strong I can be,” she shrugs, “How strong I can be for you,” she drops her eyes to my lips, and I run my tongue across them, watching her lick hers and suck in a deep breath.
I want her.
I need her.
Olivia was the only woman I have ever allowed into my heart; it was the most genuine relationship I’ve ever had. She is the closest to heaven I ever got. She had a way of making me let go and just live without chips on my shoulders, and even now, I want to do that.
I wonder what it would be like to date her now as a full-grown woman, to not have the limitations we used to have in high school.
“What are we doing?” I whisper, and she leans forward, giving me her answer by pressing her soft lips against mine. I don’t pull away, but I also don’t lead her on, “I’m married, Olivia,” I try to find excuses to keep this from happening further.
“You are a widower, a free man, and I didn’t kill her… but is it bad of me to say I’m glad she is not in the picture anymore?” She presses firmer on my lips, and I breathe quietly, as quietly as I can, to mask the fact that my restraint is weakening.
I agree with her. As fucked up as this might sound, I’m relieved that Barbara is not the one in this room right now.
“Olivia…” I’m trying to peel my lips away, but I find that my hands are on another mission as I rip her off the coffee table and place her on my lap, one hand going to the back of her head to slink my fingers into her wet hair, while the other press against her lower back to hold her to my body.
I take control of the kiss.
Her breathing accelerates, as does mine. She is so soft. I can feel her against my hand, and her taste is just so fucking succulent. Bananas and grapes.
I sling my tongue into her mouth, and she parts to take it. I swallow every one of her moans as I groan into the kiss.
I could do this forever.
I could stay here and forget there is a world out there to get back to.
I want her.
I want her because it feels like coming home. It makes the fight and hassle worth it. It gives me something to fight for. To live for. To survive for.
She gives me life—the very essence of it—and I hadn’t known until now that I would reconnect with her in this way.
But I need to protect her.
I slow the kiss and lean my forehead against her forehead, then very slowly set her beside me on the chaise longue.
“There’s work to do, Olivia,” I brush her soft, flushed cheek, and her eyes droop as she tilts her head, attempting to take my thumb in her mouth.
“I will see you later,” I can’t fight it; I lean down and kiss her one last time, nip her lower lip, and pull away.
She keeps her eyes closed and her breathing staggering.
There is so much to do.
The world outside, our world, is not kind. Cesare will not listen to her. No one out there would believe she didn’t kill Barbara.
I have to find a way to fix this before I go mental.
Chapter Seven
RONAN
