Chapter 1: The Quiet Kitchen
Clara's POV
"Lily?" My voice echoed through the large, empty house. It was too quiet. Too still. I'd expected the usual chaos of Lily's family gatherings, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the scent of something delicious cooking. Instead, there was…nothing.
I moved deeper into the hallway, my heels tapping gently on the shiny wooden floor. The residence was vast, a location that consistently made me feel some how out of place, a little small.
Lily's family, the Carters, belonged to old money, representing generational wealth and subtle influence.
"Lily?" I called once more, slightly more loudly this time.
"She isn't present."
The voice was low, a deep rumble that resonated through the atmosphere. I pivoted, my heart missing a beat.
Olivia Carter leaned against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed as she stood in the doorway.
He was towering, broad-shouldered, and undeniably attractive.
His blue eyes, piercing and focused, were locked onto me.
I had previously encountered him, obviously. He was Lily's elder brother, the one she frequently mentioned with a blend of admiration and frustration.
However, I had never been this near to him, nor experienced the complete impact of his presence. He resembled a storm cloud, gloomy and intense, yet with a concealed vitality that sparked in the atmosphere.
"Oh," I said, my voice slightly winded. "She mentioned she would arrive here."
"She needed to step outside." "An issue arose."
He propelled himself away from the doorframe and approached me, his motions smooth and elegant.
He stopped a few feet away, his eyes fixed on me. "She won't return until tomorrow."
Tomorrow. That means…only us. Alone. Within this large, vacant house.
My heart raced against my ribs, a desperate rhythm. I had consistently maintained my distance from Olivia.
He was unattainable, the taboo desire, the one you shouldn't crave. However, with him so near, the atmosphere heavy with unexpressed tension, the boundaries appeared to soften, becoming trivial.
"I need to leave," I said softly, my voice hardly a murmur. I stepped back, yet he advanced, reducing the space separating us.
"Why?" he inquired, his tone soft and raspy. "Remain."
He extended his hand, his fingertips lightly touching my cheek, causing a shiver to run down my spine.
His contact was warm, thrilling. I shut my eyes, relishing the feeling, the illicit excitement of his proximity.
"I can't," I whispered, yet those words were untruthful. I wished to remain. I longed to experience his touch, to navigate the risky attraction between us.
He cradled my face with his hands, his thumbs gliding along the contour of my jaw. His gaze, deep and piercing, ensnared me completely. I found myself consumed by them, sinking in the intensity of his longing.
"Indeed, you can," he whispered, his voice gravelly. "You desire this just as much as I do."
He was correct. I did so. The idea frightened me, thrilled me, overwhelmed me.
His lips met mine, gentle initially, then insistent, eager. I inhaled sharply, a faint noise that vanished in the intensity of the kiss.
His hands slid to my waist, drawing me nearer, pressing me against his firm frame.
The universe condensed, reducing to the sensation of his lips against mine, the flavor of him, the aroma of his skin.
My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the dark locks, yearning for further intimacy.
He picked me up, my legs encircling his waist, and brought me into the kitchen. The counter felt chilly against my back, yet I hardly paid attention. All I could sense was him, his touch, his lips, his form.
He kissed me once more, more intensely this time, his tongue probing the depths of my mouth. I sighed, a noise of sheer, unfiltered longing. His hands traveled down, following the shape of my hips and the fullness of my breasts.
He lifted my shirt, his fingers searing on my skin.
His gaze turned somber as he looked at me, a wordless inquiry in their depths. I gave a nod, my breath halting in my throat.
He unclipped my bra, his caress igniting a surge of warmth within me. His lips met mine once more, and then moved lower, gliding along my neck and chest.
I curved my spine, a quiet request for additional stimulation. His hand moved between my legs, his fingers locating the sensitive spot concealed under my skirt. I inhaled sharply, my body tightening with delight.
He shifted his fingers, tantalizing, teasing, until I was a jumble of desire. I shouted, my voice hoarse with longing. He quieted me with a kiss, his tongue diving into my mouth.
He lifted my skirt, his gaze fixed on me. He extended his hand toward my pants' button, his fingers shaking slightly. I paused my breathing, anticipating, desiring.
He unfastened the button, his fingers gliding under the fabric, following the edge of my underwear. His touch was charged, causing tremors to ripple through my body.
He pushed his fingers into me, his touch unhurried, purposeful. I yelled, my body bending against his.
He quickened the movement of his fingers, more forcefully now, until I was on the edge, teetering on the brink of oblivion.
He bent forward, his lips grazing my ear.
"Say you desire me," he murmured, his tone gritty with longing.
"I need you," I whispered, the words escaping from my mouth. "I need you too."
He grunted, a deep, throaty noise. He removed his fingers from me, his eyes heavy with desire. He grasped his belt, his actions hurried.
He loosened his belt, causing his pants to drop to the ground. His arousal was solid, firm, throbbing with longing. I extended my hand, my fingers gliding along his body. He grunted once more, his body becoming rigid.
He placed himself between my legs, his gaze fixed on mine. He entered me, slowly and intentionally, expanding me. I shouted, a blend of agony and delight.
He shifted within me, his tempo calm and consistent. I encircled my legs around his waist, drawing him nearer, further in. The joy intensified, surging over me in waves.
He increased his speed and intensity, his thrusts growing more frantic. I yelled, my body shaking around him. He moaned, his muscles tightening, his climax a warm, throbbing surge within me.
We leaned against one another, our bodies drenched in sweat, our breaths coming in uneven hitches. The quiet in the kitchen was dense, weighed down by the remnants of our desire.
He kissed me once more, gently, lovingly. "Stay," he murmured, his tone raspy.
I wished to. Above all else. However, I was aware that I couldn't. Not right now. Not in this way.
"I need to leave," I murmured in reply, my voice shaking.
He looked at me, his eyes clouded with disappointment. "When will I meet you once more?"
"I have no idea," I replied, my voice hardly strong.
He extended his hand, his fingers following the contour of my jaw. "Please don't say that," he whispered. "I will locate you."
A noise in the corridor caused us to both halt. Loud steps, and a known voice.
"Clara?" "Olivia?" Lily's voice.
Olivia's hold grew firmer on my arm. His eyes met mine, a quiet caution.
"Not a single word," he murmured.
Lily then entered the kitchen, her eyes growing wide as she surveyed the situation. "What's happening?" She said, her voice filled with confusion.