Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
I lose myself in him, my senses overwhelmed by his touch, his taste, his scent. When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless, my heart pounding and my breathing ragged.
His breath is warm against my cheek when he speaks.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he murmurs, his voice husky.
I can’t help but smile, my fingers still trailing through his hair. “I’m glad you did.”
His forehead comes to rest lightly against mine, our noses brushing intimately. I bite down on my bottom lip as I smile, and a question comes to mind. I hesitate, a little unsure, but then the words tumble out before I can second-guess them.
“Do you want to come in?”
Those beautiful green eyes search mine, and for a moment, I think he might say no.
But then he nods.
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
We step inside, and I flick on two of the lamps rather than the main light before I lock the door behind us. The apartment is clean and tidy - thank you, past-self - and since Santi doesn’t drink alcohol while the season is in full-swing, I offer him a glass of lemonade.
He stands in the middle of the lounge, his hands tucked into his pockets as I place a glass down on the kitchen counter.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I say, gesturing over to the couch.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice quieter now.
Instead of answering, I move out of the kitchen - the lemonade now forgotten - and step closer.
Something shifts, and the air between us feels charged, electric.
I’m so used to doubting everything, but there’s nothing about Santi that has given me any cause to ever feel uncomfortable or unsure in myself, so I give into my instincts and wrap my arms around his neck.
His response is immediate, and his large hands come to rest on either side of my waist as he pulls me tightly against him.
The warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric of my sundress, grounding me and igniting something deeper all at once. I feel the strength in his grip - not possessive, but steady, as if he’s anchoring me to the moment - and I lift up onto my tiptoes, my lips pressing against his in a gentle stroke.
Whatever doubts I’d had about letting someone in melt away as his mouth moves against mine. Our kiss is slow at first, with gentle brushes of tongues, but it grows into something deeper, more insistent.
His taste is intoxicating, and his fingers trail away from my sides and up my back, leaving a path of heat in their wake, before settling at the base of my neck. He tilts my head slightly, deepening the kiss, and a soft sound escapes me as he maneuvers my body. It’s a mixture of surprise and surrender, and it’s then that Santi pauses, his forehead coming to rest against mine as his breath comes in shallow bursts.
“Olivia,” he murmurs, his voice husky, almost reverent.
I pull back just enough to look at him, my hands resting lightly on his broad, muscular shoulders. His green eyes search mine, and the usual playful glint I see in them has been replaced by something raw and vulnerable.
“For the first time in a long time,” I whisper, my voice catching, “I’m not worried about anything else. All that matters to me… is this.”
Tension still thrums between us, our bodies impossibly close, but his lips curve into the faintest of smiles. His thumb brushes against my jaw as one of his hands moves to cup my face, and his gentle touch sends a light shiver down my spine.
“You have no idea how good it is to hear you say that,” he says softly.
His gaze holds mine, and my heart thunders in my chest.
I swallow thickly. “I think I do.”
He leans down again, capturing my lips in another kiss. It’s slower this time - almost as if he’s savouring every second.
When we finally part, I stay in his arms, my head coming to rest against his shoulder. I close my eyes as I listen to his heartbeat, steady and strong. His hand strokes lazily up and down my back, and I let out a contented hum.
“Should we move somewhere more comfortable?” he asks.
I step back just enough to meet his gaze. “You’re terrible at subtlety, you know.”
“Only when it comes to you,” he replies, his voice so low that my heart practically flutters.
He breaks out into a grin that is both boyish and disarming, and I narrow my eyes slightly in suspicion.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a small laugh escaping my throat.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans closer once more, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss so tender it makes my legs feel unsteady.
Then, without warning, he bends at the knee and scoops me up into his arms in one easy, fluid motion.