<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">The heat was spiking, but with it appeared to be some sort of frustration coming from Oliver. His hands were possessive, forcing her back against him more while his hold on her tightened. It was not uncomfortable, in fact Gen would have to admit she enjoyed it if asked, but it was definitely different. Nathan had always been so gentle and careful with her; there was a hint of roughness in Oliver’s grip and stance behind her that was surprisingly thrilling to her. And more than that, Oliver seemed to only want more from her. She could feel the way his body reacted to her hands lightly brushing over his arms, could sense the heat radiating from him while his chest pressed snugly to her back. And she wanted to feel more.<br/>
<br/>
His arm surprised her though, leading his hand up to rest between her breasts to effectively lock her against him. Oliver took hold of her chin and leaned her back in a way that had suspicion mixing in with the lust she could not hide from her dark eyes. It was a position that required trust, that suggested intimacy. She could see the same desire in his gaze, but it was tinged with a hint of gruff hunger. Genevieve watched him almost suspiciously while Oliver took the time to run the rough pad of his thumb across her soft bottom lip in the most agonizing way, and felt heat bloom throughout her body from that one small touch. What would it be like for that hand to roam? To please? It was able to draw a soft exhale of breath from her from that one graze; what could he do to her if he was given the chance to explore more?<br/>
<br/>
He leaned close, her focus on him so intent that she could every movement, every whisper, every inflection of heady hunger in his quiet voice. He threatened to stop and Genevieve realized then that was the last thing she wanted Oliver to do. No, despite their history, despite how convoluted their situation was, she wanted him. Her lips parted so she could tell him and he would hopefully help her sate the stirred up mood between them, but Oliver instead tightened his hold on her and he leaned down to her. His lips brushed hers, but his gaze was intent on her, and despite her immense desire sink into him and allow their lips to become better acquainted, Genevieve kept her focus solely on his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Could he not tell? Did he not see how dangerous this was? Or did she leap into pool of lust they were seemingly teetering toward falling into and trust they could navigate through the web of complexity a relationship between them would weave? After a beat of contemplation, Genevieve pushed those thoughts away in favor of what instinct wanted, what she craved. He had waited, had resisted unleashing the hunger simmering inside him, but Gen could not. The slightest taste of Oliver upon her lips was not enough, and determination swept over her face to replace simple yearning.<br/>
<br/>
“We don’t have enough time for what I want,” she answered lowly, her eyes on his so he could see just how badly she wished they did. A hand fell to rest upon the one trapping her in his arms and Genevieve used it as leverage to push up. She rose to her toes, the movement swift, and her lips pressed to his firmly. A little brush was not enough, she feared it never would be, and Genevieve’s hold on Oliver tightened while she reveled in the way her lips molded against his, how the thrill of kissing him raced down her spine. Greed took over, a little hum of pleasure left her, and Gen shifted to take up his bottom lip between her teeth. She gave it a small tug with a hint of roughness she had not shown before, and was about to dive back in for a better taste of him when his name passed through her lips and she remembered.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oliver</i>. This was Oliver. Best friend and partner to her dead boyfriend. With that thought in mind, with the reality of their situation dousing her much in the same way as if someone had dumped a bucket of water over her, Genevieve released all hold on him. “No,” she said thickly, then jerked herself out of his hold. She spun away, turned around to face Oliver, and felt short of breath from all the excitement that had bubbled up between them. Her dark brown gaze was guarded however, and she shook her head at him emphatically, “<i>No</i>, Oliver. We can’t. We won’t.” Do what, she wasn't sure. There was no telling what could have transpired between them with the amount of heat between them, but Genevieve was afraid to face the possibilities. And because how badly she’d wanted to explore that obvious tension between them, she retreated a few steps before turning to escape the room, “Mac will be here soon.”</span>