Chapter 4 She Embraced Daniel

Olivia stared at the man before her, as if she'd seen a ghost.

It wasn't her husband she was clinging to—it was Daniel, her husband's older brother.

Their bodies were pressed impossibly close, her arms still draped around his neck, not a sliver of space between them.

She could feel the firm ridges of his chest muscles beneath his shirt, pressing against her, while her soft stomach nestled against the solid strength of his thighs.

Olivia didn't dare dwell on what that hard bulge against her abdomen might be.

"Daniel..."

Her throat felt clogged, her words stumbling out. "You... you're still up?"

Daniel didn't answer. He simply lowered his head, his piercing, deep-set eyes locking onto hers.

His gaze was as intimidating as ever.

Olivia's breath hitched under the weight of his stare, her body instinctively leaning back to put some distance between them.

"Who did you think I was just now?"

Daniel finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with a lazy drawl that hinted at the aftertaste of alcohol.

His voice bore a faint resemblance to Miles', but it was deeper and more magnetic, carrying an effortless authority that Miles could never match.

Even though they were both the heirs of the mafia family, Miles couldn't rival Daniel's commanding presence. In the entire family, only the Godfather himself could rival his aura.

Olivia was frozen. How could she have mistaken him for someone else?

This was a disaster.

What was she supposed to do now?

This was her husband's brother, and she'd just thrown herself into his arms.

Rumor had it Daniel was aloof, untouchable, and uninterested in women.

Her actions must have been a blatant offense to him.

She was done for.

Absolutely done for.

Panic washed over her.

Olivia's hands trembled as they slipped from his neck, her legs going weak. Her body tilted backward, unable to hold her weight, and she started to fall.

Behind her loomed the yacht's steel railing. A fall like that could do serious damage to her head.

For a fleeting moment, Olivia thought it might be better to hit her head. If she passed out, she wouldn't have to face Daniel's questions.

But her body reacted faster than her mind. Her hands instinctively grabbed his neck for support.

Daniel, already half-crouching and unsteady, was pulled forward by her weight.

What might have been a simple stumble turned into something worse. With Daniel's weight added to hers, the force of their fall sent her head hurtling toward the railing.

Instead of cold metal, her head landed against something warm and soft, and her face was pulled forward by the force of the fall.

Dizziness slowed her reactions, but a faint, clean scent of pine slipped into her nose, calming her.

Blinking, she opened her eyes. Daniel's pale neck was right beside her cheek. His hand had caught the back of her head.

He had used his hand to shield her from the railing.

She wanted to thank him, but their position was so awkward that any words felt out of place.

Though their upper bodies had pulled apart slightly, their lower halves were now pressed even closer.

Somewhere during the fall—she didn't even know when—her legs had ended up locked around his waist.

Now, Daniel hovered above her, one arm braced to support them, but his hips were pressed firmly between her thighs. That thing she'd been trying not to think about earlier was now nestled directly against her most sensitive spot.

She'd worn a skirt when she came up to the deck, and with her legs spread, only a thin layer of underwear shielded her secret part.

She could feel him—every solid, unmistakably male inch of him—heavy against her. Even more disturbing, she could feel the shape of his tip, the slight ridge of the crown... and the steady pulse of his still-soft length.

Her first thought was, "It's huge."

Even in this state, not fully aroused, its size was staggering. She couldn't imagine what it would be like if it hardened completely.

Her second thought was, "Being his woman must be exhausting."

A man with something that size? Most women would probably struggle to handle it.

Olivia's entire understanding of intimacy came from her experiences with Miles.

Miles wasn't nearly this... substantial, and even that had been uncomfortable for her. If it weren't for the pressure to conceive, she'd have avoided intimacy altogether. In her mind, Daniel's wife, Eleanor Taylor, must endure absolute torture in bed.

Olivia silently wondered how Eleanor even managed this.

"Can you get up?"

Daniel's low, gravelly voice broke through her thoughts, snapping her back to reality.

Blood rushed to her face. Mortified, she fumbled to push herself up, hoping to escape the embarrassment as quickly as possible. But in doing so, her lower half shifted against his—and friction ignited between them.

A low, strained groan escaped Daniel's throat, his magnetic voice sending a flush of heat through her.

"Stop moving!" His voice dropped, heavy with restraint, his breathing growing ragged.

Olivia froze instantly.

It was not because of his command, but because she suddenly felt the bulge pressing against her begin to swell.

It hardened rapidly, like a balloon inflating. What had been soft moments ago was now rigid, its swollen tip pushing against her thin underwear, nudging into the space between her thighs.

"I... I'm sorry..."

Apologizing now was pointless.

Daniel took a few labored breaths, his face darkening, the sharp lines of his features turning colder, more severe. His deep eyes narrowed, pinning her with a gaze like a predator sizing up its prey.

Olivia's spine chilled under his stare, her breath catching in her throat.

And at that moment, the swelling mass between her legs grew even larger, pressing so insistently it felt like it might push right through her.