Olivia Martins

Bridget's scent clung to his skin like a second layer.

I froze, immediately filled with disgust.

No.

No, no, no.

I shoved at his chest.

He didn’t budge at first. He was still lost in it, kissing my neck, gripping my waist like he needed me to breathe.

“Caspian,” I said, sharper now, pushing harder. “Let me go.”

His head lifted, dazed and flushed. “What?”

I scrambled out from under him, my heart pounding. My body was still aching ...