“That’s why we got up at five.” He ducks his head back inside the bathroom and closes the door, not giving me a chance to argue.
It is way too early for this shit. After I get home and buy my three Sonic milkshakes,I’m going to sleep for at least a week.
**
Whatever news channel the team has on in our lobby replays Oliver’s dash over the finish line. He beat his opponent by more than a full second. The amazing two runs he had in the qualifying event put him in first place going into the finals. It’s an amazing starting point. This is the last Winter Games the parallel slalom will be featured in — spectatorsprefer the giant slalom, which allows for faster speeds and more excitement. Since the creation of the Golds, events have been switched in and out, depending on interest — they’re here to make money too — and today’s spectators want sports with more drama and excitement.
If Oliver wants to medal at another Winter Games, he’ll need to qualify in a different event in four years. But right now he’sat an amazing place to take home one of the last gold medals awarded at this Winter Games.
The parallel slalom is handled much like the giant slalom with a qualifier in the morning and then three different sets of semifinals in the afternoon with each of the players knocking off a competitor in a bracket system. Which means we have to be back here at one when Oliver will go against the athletewho placed sixteenth in the qualifiers, a man named Vic from Italy. I’m thankful it’s not the other American competing in this event. At least not yet. There’s still a chance they’ll be forced to go head to head.
“Did you see it?” he yells before he’s even through the door of the lobby. I’ve been watching him walk from the top of the hill, a good ten steps ahead of all the other athletes. “Itwas the best run time of my life.” He’s still yelling when he stops beside me.
I hug Oliver, squeezing him tightly. I don’t need his excitement. I was already so happy for him. First place qualifier. It doesn’t mean he’ll win one of the three metals available at the end of this event, but it’s a great position to make it. The odds are in his favor.
“I’m so proud of you.” I know I didn’t do anythingto actually help him win, besides play skee-ball with him this morning and find him an ice cream sundae. Apparently I’m not the only person in this place who is tired of the food. Even though Oliver doesn’t owe any of his success to me, I feel I was part of the team. And it’s a great team to be on.
His unexpected kiss comes fast and rougher than the ones we shared last night. The open displayof affection catches me off guard and I startle, stepping backward. “Oliver. We’re in public.”
The media is everywhere around here. I can only hope to God no one caught a picture. It’s not that I want him to stop. Every time I spend two seconds remembering what happened last night, I kick myself for not taking it further. I wanted him to make the first move, but when will I learn that sometimesa girl has to do it on her own? Next time — when we’re not surrounded by media — I’m going to take matters into my own hands.
He gestures to the left side of the room. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” I ask as we walk down a long hallway. “You know you’ll have to do an interview in thirty minutes.” Having such a high-qualifying spot means pretty much everyone will want to interview himbefore the finals begin.
He stops in front of an unmarked door, twisting the handle. “This is more important.”
What could be more important than an interview with all the news channels?
Oliver pushes open the door and the room he steps into is dark. Shelves line the walls, full of different labeled boxes and big gallon jugs that look to be cleaning supplies. “What is this?”
He steps closercausing me to run into a shelf with my back when there’s nowhere else for me to go. “Supply closet.”
“And what are we going to do in the supply closet?” And then it hits me and I know exactly what he plans to do the supply closet. “Oliver.”
He smirks his eyes dark in the barely lit room, yet I swear they twinkle. “We’re not in public anymore, Kenny.”
My mouth is open but rather than get anykind of objection out, Oliver sets his lips on top quieting my disagreements. Our kiss doesn’t have time to be slow and sweet like last night. It’s fueled by my excitement and adrenaline. Our tongues duel for space and he wins, pushing me tighter against the shelf behind my back. I moan. Oliver’s hand searches for space under my shirt, cupping a breast over my bra.
“Is this okay?” he asks betweenkisses.
I should say no. As a professional I should stop this immediately…but I don’t.
“Yes.” It’s definitely okay. In fact I want to do more. Kiss him harder. Oliver lowers the top half of my bra, using his thumb to rub against my nipple, and I lose the ability to tell him anything I’m thinking.
I moan again sticking my knee between his legs, trying to get closer. To have more contact betweenour bodies. He’s already out of his tightfitting snowsuit and instead wearing a loose pair of athletic pants. I slide my hands past the elastic band to finds his erection waiting for me. The silky smooth skin of his shaft feels soft against my palm as I play with the exposed flesh.
“Harder,” he commands, moving his attention to my ear. I tighten my grip, running my hand up and down feeling itas he continues to grow harder.
My body aches to have him closer, and I claw at his shirt, trying to strip it from his body. Oliver pulls back and rips the shirt from his chest throwing it on the ground behind him.
“Take mine off,” I plead. I’d do it myself but that means having to move my hands from inside his pants, and that is not something I wish to do.
Ultimately I have to anyway whenmy shirt gets stuck. When my long sleeves get twisted around my wrist I have to work to pull it off. Oliver lowers his head, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking. I throw my head back and hit it along the edge of the metal shelf. I’m hopeful no one heard the clang in the hallway and comes to investigate.
He leans back using his tongue to swipe hard against my nipple one last time. When hiseyes reach mine I whine, silently pleading him to keep going.
“Fuck, Kenny, we have to stop.” His breath comes in heavy pants against my neck.
