"Oh, yeah?" I ask him in a husky voice, my body tightening with anticipation. "What did you have in mind?"
"I'm thinking we need to pay homage to your Irish roots," he murmurs as he leans in closer, his lips hovering just above mine.
"They've been feeling neglected as of late," I agree softly, swiping my tongue over my lower lip, which is already tingling in anticipation.
Garrett presses his mouth against mine and I open up to him slowly. He tastes like cinnamon and mint, and I don't hesitate one second, pushing my tongue into his mouth to take a swipe against his. My hands immediately come up to wrap around his neck, and with a slight rumble in his chest, his arms come around my waist to pull me in closer to his body. He kisses me deeply...erotically, and the blood starts pounding in my head. Our tongues move against each other and I have to fight for control of my body not to press all the way in against him. Our heads naturally angle in opposition to allow more contact...more penetration.
Mouth, lips, teeth, and tongue. My hands gripping his hair, his fingers digging into my waist. Oh, my God, what a kiss, and suddenly I want to drag him into my bedroom and demand he continue. At the moment, all of Stevie's preachings today seem like a damn good idea.
Regretfully, Garrett pulls his mouth away with a sigh, but not before taking a swift bite at my lower lip. He grabs it with his teeth, gives a soft moan that hums along my moistened skin, and then lets it go. Pleasurable pinpricks caress over the area his teeth were just embedded in, and I reluctantly let go of his hair.
Taking a step back from me, Garrett's face is flushed and his eyes are hot, and I'm betting a mirror would reflect that I look the same.
"That was...um..." I start to say, then my words fail me. Because I don't know how I could ever just describe that kiss. I'd never felt anything like it before. Damn sure never started a date off like that before.
"Yes, it was," he agrees with a smile. "Looking forward to doing that again."
I don't know what possesses me to do it. Maybe it's the frailty of my life or the fact that Stevie is a terrible influence on me, but I blurt out, "Or maybe more."
Garrett's eyes go from hot to blistering in a nanosecond. He stares at me for a moment, then steps in closer. My heart feels like it might explode when he says, "I'll give you whatever you want, Olivia. All you have to do is ask me."
So now the question remains...will I ask him to give me just a kiss at the end of the date, or will I ask him to stay all night?
Chapter 5
Garrett
It's a continual struggle.
And fuck...I've never struggled like this before.
Struggled to keep my cock deflated and my hands to myself.
All night I've been warring with myself...sternly telling my body to get itself under fucking control.
Practically impossible when I've been in the company of what I'm now coming to realize is the sexiest woman I've ever been around in my life. Clearly, I'm attracted to her physically. I got that loud and clear from the moment I laid eyes on her at the party. My first thoughts were--because, hey, I'm a dude--that I wanted to fuck her all night long.
Now I'm thinking a bit differently, and I'm thinking one night might not be enough. I've never even tasted more than her strawberry lip gloss when we kissed, but something is telling me that once isn't going to be enough.
Not with a woman like this.
Not with a woman that laughed so hard she was wheezing during the comedy show we went to, and even snorted once so loud the comedian called her out on it. She just doubled over and started laughing so hysterically, I was afraid she'd wet her pants.
Not with a woman that pulled out a five-dollar bill and tucked it into the weathered hand of a homeless man we passed on the street as we left the comedy club.
Not with a woman that then gently tucked her arm through mine as we walked through downtown Raleigh, in search of a quiet bar that we could get a drink in.
And certainly not with a woman that sits across from me now as we sip at our beers, listening thoughtfully to every word I say, providing insightful and sometimes witty commentary, and laughs so sweetly I think she may be coated in sugar and dipped in honey.
Yup...it's been a struggle all night not to drag her into my arms and see if I can reproduce that amazing kiss we had at the start of the date. Part of me wants to end the evening now, just so I can get her back to her apartment for a good-night kiss. But the vast majority of me doesn't want this evening to end. I want to sit here with her in this bar and continue to talk until the sun comes up, because for the first time in my life, I'm actually enjoying the company of my date.
It's a long shot that I'll end up in her bed, and frankly, that's not my goal at this point. It's a fervent wish...but not a goal. Rather, the major event that's probably going to happen is that I'm going to leave her standing inside her apartment door, probably after a bone-melting kiss, and then I'm going to ask her out again.
Yes, that is a major, major event because Mr. One-Night Stand is going in for the request for a second date. And I'm nervous as shit, because I don't know if what I've shown her tonight would warrant her wanting to see me again. I'm used to treating a woman to a nice meal and then finishing off the evening with an orgasm or two. I might even stay the night for a little cuddling, a bit of pillow talk, and maybe even another orgasm. But then I'm gone and she's forgotten. I have no illusions...I'm sure I'm forgotten as well, because women want more than I can give, and when I leave them far behind, I'm sure they are out on the hunt again for the guy who can give them what they truly need.
Olivia turns her delicate wrist and peers down at her watch. "It's getting kind of late. I think we should probably call it a night."
No, I want to scream at her, but I smile and give her a nod. "Yeah...I have an early practice tomorrow, then a team workout."
Olivia stands from her chair and I mimic her actions. She picks up her purse and slings it over her shoulder. "So, do you practice every day?"
I reach out and take her hand, warming inside with the way she easily twines her fingers among mine. "Yeah, this week and next, along with a few scrimmages. Then we'll have a few preseason games before the regular season starts."
"Are you getting excited?" she asks as I lead her through the bar and out the door.
"God, yes," I say with a smile. "I hate the summers off. Can't wait to get back into the thick of the competition. It's like a drug for me."
"I love the passion in your voice when you talk about hockey," she muses as we walk down the block toward the parking garage. "You can tell how special it is to you."
Her words touch me profoundly...the acknowledgment she gives to my love of the game. Most people think professional athletes are all about the money, and I'm not going to lie...the money is damned good and has provided for me and my family in a way that no other career could have. But that's not why I do what I do. I do it for the win, for the thrill, for the fans, and for my teammates. There is no greater high--not even the most explosive of orgasms could ever compare to that feeling I get when my team wins a game.
Nothing better in the world.
"So what are you passionate about?" I ask her as we enter the parking garage and opt to take the stairs to the third floor. I slow my long-legged pace a bit, because Olivia seems to be lagging behind.
"Well, I love my job. So not what I thought I'd be doing when I got out of college. And I'm passionate about my friends. It's a small circle, but I'd be nothing without them. And I'm passionate about my mother. We're really close, but she lives out in Oregon and I don't get to see her as much as I want to."
"What about your dad?" I ask her as we reach the second flight of stairs.
"No clue where he is. He's sort of a free spirit...wanders around the country. He and my mom split up several years ago."
"But didn't get divorced?"
Olivia snickers. "Um...only because they're not married. Neither of them believes in marriage. They're both sort of like immatu
re hippies, believing in free love and lots of pot."
"You're kidding?" I ask in astonishment. My parents have been happily married for almost thirty years, and while I am totally enjoying my playboy ways, I think deep down I've always respected the sanctity of marriage. Not sure if I'll ever get sanctified myself, but it's an honest prospect.
Olivia laughs, and then stops for a moment in our ascent to take a deep breath. "Not kidding, and my mom's a hoot. She wears these flowing caftan dresses and braids fresh flowers in her hair. She listens to the Mamas and the Papas all day and talks dreamily about free love."
Chuckling, I point out, "But your mom's not even from that generation. She's young enough that maybe she should be listening to Depeche Mode while wearing shoulder pads and leg warmers."
"You're preaching to the choir," Olivia says after taking a deep breath and letting it out.
"You seem a little out of breath," I tease her. "Maybe we should have taken the elevator."
She punches me on the arm, not all that lightly, and says, "Not all of us can be world-class athletes. But I'm good."
She takes a step toward the next flight of stairs, but I lean down and sweep her up into my arms. She lets out a strangled yelp, but I'm immensely pleased when her arms raise up to wrap around my neck.
"How about a lift?" I ask her, even as one hand comes to rest very close to a breast and the other grips her outside leg just under the hem of her shorts. The feel of her skin against my fingertips is amazing, and I flex my fingers a bit, pressing her in closer to me.
Olivia giggles and says, "So gallant."
I jog up the remaining steps, and when I reach the top flight, I set her down gently on her feet, her body sliding along my own, and I almost convulse from the electric feel of her against me.
Sucking in a deep breath, Olivia places her hands on my chest and looks up at me through heavy eyelashes. "Thanks for the ride."
"Anytime," I murmur back, and can't help that my hand lifts to stroke along her jawline.
I watch, entranced, as her eyes flutter closed and a tiny smile bends those generous lips. Leaning down, I graze my mouth against hers, which immediately opens.
Skimming my fingers to the back of her head, I grasp on to her and pull her face forward until our lips are mashed. A low moan of approval seeps out of Olivia, and that's all I need to push my tongue in so that I can kiss her the way I've been fantasizing about all evening.
God...better than earlier because she steps into my body, plastering her soft curves to my frame and there is no holding back the instant flow of carnal blood that flows through my groin. While one hand keeps her head firmly in my grip, the other travels around to her lower back, where I press my fingers into the flesh at the top of her ass to bring her in closer to me.
Instant sizzle of lust. Straight through me when she presses up against my cock, and I shove a groan into her mouth. She gobbles it up, furiously moving her tongue against mine. When she rolls her hips against me, my knees go weak and I have to lock them back tight.
The sound of feet pounding up the steps filters into my brain and I pull my mouth from Olivia just as a group of people round the lower floor landing to walk up our way.
I don't release my hold on her, though, but rather pull her in closer as we step away from the door, letting the people pass. Olivia's chest is mashed up against me and its quick rise and fall lets me know that she is as turned on as I am by that second but more nuclear kiss.
As the people walk by I hear one whisper, "Holy shit...that's Garrett Samuelson."
Olivia lowers her forehead to rest against my chest, giving a slight giggle, and I quickly kiss her on the top of the head.
"Come on," I murmur with my lips against her soft hair. "Let's get you home."
She nods and pulls back from me, dropping her hand to link again with mine. She gives me a tremulous smile, and I know the one I give her in answer is full of uncertainty.
Because really...where in the fuck do I go from here?
--
I pull up in front of Olivia's apartment and turn the car off. The silence is deafening compared to the running banter that had been going on as we drove from Raleigh back to Chapel Hill. Easy, light talk because there was no way we were going to talk about that kiss. The nervous tension between us is palpable.
I learned a little bit more about Olivia's mom, Maryana, and she sounds like a true piece of work. Olivia said her mother is idealistic and lives in la-la land half the time, but is the best mom in the world. Her voice was wistful when she talked about her and a little sad...and I assume it's because she misses her.
She asked me about my family as well, and it's no hardship talking about them, because I miss them a lot too. I was born and raised in a small town just outside of Minneapolis. My parents, Randy and Jessica Samuelson, embody everything about the Midwest. Friendly, open, and big on traditional family values. We sat down to an amazing family dinner every night because my stay-at-home mom was an amazing cook and could stretch our food dollars. Dad would tell us all about his day at work at a plant that manufactured small car parts, and my siblings and I would talk about our day at school. We didn't have a lot, but it never seemed to matter.
"We're here," I say hesitantly with my hand on the door handle, completely unsure of where we stand.
"We're here," she agrees quietly.
I get out of the car and walk to her side to open the door. She sticks a long, bare leg out and I swallow hard. Images of me dragging my tongue up her smooth skin assault me and I shake my head. Offering her my hand, she takes it and steps out. I close the door and we walk up the stairs to her apartment.
She releases her hold on me briefly to reach into her purse for her key. Once she unlocks the door and pushes it open, she turns to me and asks, "Want to come in for a cup of coffee or something?"
To my surprise, I say, "I probably should go. I have that early prac--"
Olivia launches herself at me, both of her hands coming to my face. She rises on her tiptoes at the same time she pulls me down toward her. Her lips meet mine in a fiery clash, and my own hands come up to frame her face.
The kiss is like lightning, lighting me up from within, and my entire body goes tight with need for this woman. I push her backward, walking her into her apartment, our hands only gripping onto each other more desperately. When we clear the door frame, I kick the door shut with my foot and spin her around, pushing her back into the door. Back to where our first kiss started.
Pulling my mouth away from hers, I tilt my head and skim my lips across her jaw and then down to her neck. She shudders, and I groan at her response.
So fucking hot.
Releasing her face, I take her hands in mine and raise them above her head, pinning them against the door with one hand. I move back to her mouth and kiss her again deeply while I press my body into hers, pushing her all the way back against the door. Olivia tilts her pelvis, melding it against me, and my cock spasms in appreciation over the touch.
She's so soft...so responsive, and my blood roars through my body in desperate need to have more. I can't ever remember wanting something as much as I want her underneath me...writhing, squirming...begging. It's like every other desire or want in my life fades away, and all I see and feel is her here before me. So willing right this very minute...so ripe for the taking. Then it will be done...finished. She'll be forgotten like the rest.
That thought causes a viselike pain to pulse in my chest, and I rip myself back from her. Her arms slide down the door as she watches me with fevered eyes and swollen lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"What's wrong?" she asks, her voice low and raspy.
My eyes quickly rake down her body...so fucking beautiful and so fucking ready for me right now. The tight buds of her nipples poking hard through her T-shirt, just as my erection hammers at my zipper to get free.
Scrubbing my hand through my hair, it pains me to say, "Maybe we should wait. You know...until like the third or fou
rth date. Or even the second," I finish off lamely.
"Wait?" she asks quietly. "But I thought you..."
Her words trail off and her gaze drops to the floor in confusion.
I step back up to her, and with a finger under her chin, I raise her eyes back to me. "Thought I wanted to fuck you? I do, Olivia...more than anything. But you were also clear yesterday...no sex. I just don't want you to do something you'll regret."
"Regret," she says with a humorless laugh. "It's funny you should say that."
"Why's that?"
"Because I've been thinking a lot about that lately. And I sort of figured out I didn't want to live my life with any regrets haunting me." Her voice is melancholy and it scrapes at me hard for some reason. Puts me on the defensive.
"I don't want you to regret it if we fuck tonight," I tell her in a firm voice.
"And I don't want to regret not fucking tonight," she fires back at me. "I mean...if I let you walk out that door with only that kiss we just shared between us, and you were to die tonight...I would be regretful for not having felt you inside of me."
Oh, those words slam into me hard, but I try to keep her on the right path.
"I'm not going to die tonight," I tell her softly. "And we can go out again tomorrow night, and the night after that if you want. We can take it slow."
A bark of a laugh comes out of her mouth, but it's not a happy sound. Her eyes look bleak for just a brief moment, and it scares me. But then something sparks deep within those green orbs and heat sizzles through her gaze. She steps into me, pressing her body back against mine. Her voice is feminine and husky at the same time. "Life is frail for all of us. We don't know what tomorrow holds, or the day after, or the day after that. And besides...whether we go on a second or third date, we're going to end up fucking eventually. And I'm very much wanting that right now. No, wait...that's not right. I need it right now."
Oh, God...I'm a goner. Her words are so sure...so fucking hot. Laced with desire and thick with lust.
I frame her face with my hands once more, skimming the pads of my thumbs over her cheekbones. I lean in closer to her, peering into her eyes as if they hold all the answers I need to hear right now. "Are you sure, Olivia?"
She doesn't answer me right away...just looks back at me with a yearning that claws its way deep into my soul. Then she tells me the words that make it all okay. "I'm sure."