Margot preened. “I guess I’ll take it.”
“So.” Olivia burrowed deeper beneath the covers, rolling onto her side, facing Margot. “You never said what brought this on.”
The texts. Margot’s inability to keep her hands to herself. How she’d seemed determined to take Olivia apart, more determined than normal.
Margot stared at their hands, fingers still tangled together. “Am I supposed to have a reason? Isn’t wanting you enough?”
Yes. No. Maybe? Olivia swallowed a sigh. She’d didn’t know where her head was at, only that she’d hoped for Margot to have said something . . . more. More revealing? More vulnerable? Something closer to what Olivia felt, that maybe she wanted to talk about it. Her feelings. If she had them. What they were. How deep they ran.
One thing was for certain. Olivia didn’t want enough. When it came to Margot, she wanted everything.
She sat up, reaching over the edge of the bed, searching for her sweater, not because she was cold but because she felt vulnerable enough without being totally naked.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Margot wrapped her arm around Olivia’s waist, drawing her back beneath the covers. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Olivia’s heart squeezed, the line between pain and pleasure whisper thin.
Yet could never come, and it would still be too soon.
Chapter Sixteen
Someone knocked on her bedroom door.
Margot burrowed deeper into her pillow. Too early. She was warm, almost too warm, the arm wrapped around her waist—
Hello.
Margot’s eyes shot open. This wasn’t her bedroom. This was—
Last night came rushing back in one fell swoop. Arriving at the lodge. Hanging out on the patio. Luke. Texting Liv. Her thighs clenched. Everything that had come after, until the early hours of the morning.
Whoever was at the door knocked louder, causing Olivia to release the cutest little whimper before burrowing her face against the back of Margot’s neck.
Pale gray light filtered through a gap in the curtains. It was too early for housekeeping.
“Hey, Mar? Everyone’s already downstairs. Are you coming?”
Shit. Elle.
Eyes still adjusting to being open, Margot patted the nightstand, searching for her glasses. She slipped them on, then grabbed her phone to check the time. 7:06. Early, but not as early as she’d expected. She had two texts and a missed call, all from Elle.
Elle （6:45 a.m.）： we’re all meeting for breakfast at 7
Elle （6:57 a.m.）： mar?
One missed call 7:00 a.m.
“Fuck,” Margot muttered, earning another whine from Olivia, whose arm tightened around Margot’s waist. She sighed and ran her fingers along the back of Olivia’s forearm. “Liv, I’ve got to get up.”
Carefully, Margot extricated herself from the bed, wincing at how cold the floor was under her feet. Picking up clothes as she went, Margot pulled yesterday’s sweater on over her head, grateful that it hit midthigh. She cracked open the door and poked her head out, the bed within direct view of the doorway.
Elle’s smile fell. “You aren’t ready yet?”
“Um, no. I—I overslept.” She winced. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Do you just want to meet us . . .” Elle’s eyes widened comically. “Um. Sorry.” She shut her eyes and shook her head, laughing under her breath. “Lost my train of thought. Do you just want to meet us downstairs?”
Margot nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll be down in fifteen, okay?”
“No rush.” Elle smiled brightly. “Take your time.”
As soon as the door was shut, Margot dropped her head and groaned. All she wanted was to crawl back into bed beside Liv and revel in this little bubble they’d built, an oasis of soft sheets and softer skin, the fireplace churning out heat they didn’t even need, not with the way she burned when Liv touched her, even in the most innocent places. The inside of her wrist or the back of her knee, the small of her back, a kiss against the top knob of her spine capable of undoing her completely.
“Is everything okay?”
Margot spun around. Olivia was sitting up, sheet wrapped around her, hair mussed and eyes sleepy, lips kiss-swollen and pink.
Margot jerked her thumb behind her at the door. “That was just Elle. We overslept, I guess.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “Wait, what time is it?” She swiped her phone off the nightstand. “Shoot. I still need to check my email.”
Olivia hopped out of the bed, stumbling and catching herself when the sheets tangled around her legs. She kicked them aside and bent down, snagging her clothes. She looked up, lips twitching. “You’re wearing my sweater.”