5. This Is Wrong

Chapter 5

Olivia;

I was exhausted.

The day had drained every ounce of energy from me. All I wanted was a hot shower and a bed—just a few hours of peace before tomorrow's chaos began.

I slipped out of my dress, tossing it aside as I padded toward the bathroom.

And then...

The door burst open.

I froze.

There, in the doorway, stood Damon.

His chest rose and fell like he’d just sprinted through hell. His jaw was tight, and his eyes— his eyes looked like they were about to swallow me whole.

"What the hell, Damon?!" I yelled, grabbing my dress and holding it tightly against my chest.

Instead of leaving, he stepped inside, my heart dropping with each step he took.

My eyes darted to the open door behind him. I was half naked. And....anyone could walk in. Anyone.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," he said, his voice low and bitter. He was pissed, and... he'd been drinking. “My brother, Liv? Really?”

He kept walking toward me. I kept backing away, inching until my back hit the dresser.

"What other way do you plan to rip my heart out, huh? You're marrying my brother!?"

My hands tightened on the fabric, panic crashing through me. "I'm almost naked, Damon. You need to lower your voice and get the hell out!" I said, mustering the calmest tone ever.

He scoffed, eyes burning through me. “Why? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, isn’t it?”

Before I could react, he yanked the dress from my hands.

“Damon!” I gasped.

Then his hands cupped my breasts. My breath caught.

A wave of heat surged through me, shamefully fast. My skin betrayed me. My nipples hardened under his touch, and my chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm.

Damon's voice was low and strangely possessive. “I damn hope you don’t think for one second that I’ll sit back and let you marry my brother, Olivia. This wedding? It’s not fucking happening.”

Despite the rage burning in my chest, and the terrible, traitorous pleasure of his hands, I scoffed. “And who the hell are you to dictate that? We’re over, Damon. Do you need help remembering, or should I refresh your memory?”

He stared at me like I’d slapped him, almost stumbling back, but his hands never left me. “I think you should,” he gritted. “You broke up with me. You ripped out my heart without warning and just disappeared. Do you even realize what the past years have been like for me?”

Does he know what the past year has been like for me? Of course, he doesn't, and he wouldn't. Because he is a selfish, arrogant and self-absorbed shithead. The only mistake I'd ever made in my 21 year of living was falling in love with someone like him.

Suddenly fighting the urge to roll my eyes, they flicked toward the door again, my mind still screaming someone could walk in—but all I could feel was the way his fingers pinched my nipple, sending a moan crawling up my throat before I could stop it.

God, what the hell was wrong with me?

“D...don't give me that crap insinuating you haven't moved on a long time ago." I said, breath shaking. " You should focus on your girlfriend, Layla... and stop making it sound like I did something awful to you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes, you did! How the fucking hell do you not realize what you did, Liv? How!?”

The air between us burned.

We stared at each other, both of us breathing too hard, too fast. His eyes dropped to my lips.

And I knew.

I knew what he was about to do before he even moved.

He shook his head. “You know what? Fuck this.”

His hands grabbed my face, and then, before I could stop him, he kissed me. Hard.

His mouth crushed mine like he was trying to punish me with his lips. I gasped, tried to shove him off, but his tongue was already inside, forcing its way down my throat.

He grabbed my breasts again, pulling me into him, until I was pressed against his hard chest.

But then—my senses returned, shame curling into me, as I pushed him off with everything in me.

But before I could react further, he'd closed the distance between us again. This time, he leaned in, diving for my breasts, his mouth latching onto a nipple.

Oh, God...

His mouth was hot. And my head fell back, my body went lax. I was shamefully bare in front of him. In his arms. My legs weakened, but his strong hands held me in place.

This was wrong. So, so wrong. And it's weird that my body reacted to the littlest touch from him.

"Da... Damon...." A strangled moan escaped my lips when his hand drifted lower and cupped my head.

My eyes fluttered close immediately.

"I could take you right now, Liv." He murmured, "Right here in this room. With the door wide open for anyone to walk in."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't respond. His hands on my pussy were distracting enough that I couldn't even pretend to care.

"Please...."

"What do you want, Liv," his breath fanned my neck, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses that left my head spinning.

For some reason, I deduce another meaning to his question. But right now, I can't say a word to save my soul.

Damon's hands fumbled until I heard the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, and the low hiss of his zipper coming undone.

But reality slammed back to me that very moment, cold and brutal.

Was I about to let my toxic obsessive ex fuck me in my fiancé's room? What the hell is wrong with me?

My hand flew by instinct. Landing hard against his cheek, the sound echoing in the room.

He reeled back, stunned. And then...

A horrified voice.

“What’s going on here?”