She shrugs. “Why not?’
Wow, she is great at deflating any ego I might have. “Okay. Then why that trip, that weekend? You’re… twenty… four?”
“Twenty-three, shortly. Tate and I are three weeks apart,” Olivia corrects. The baby monitor on the kitchen island lights up and we both fall silent as we listen to Dylan make some noises that only babies make.
I follow her gaze to the monitor where we both watch him roll over and fall silent again. I move over to the bright yellow chaise in the corner by the windows. This isn’t something I left behind. Mallory must have bought it because Tate isn’t cultured enough to know a velvet yellow chaise goes perfectly with the smoky blue walls. I drop down onto it. Shit, it’s comfy and curved in all the right places to support my aching back. I make a mental note to ask Mallory where she got it and then it hits me. “Wait. Tate’s birthday was two weeks ago right after we got back from Vegas.”
"Look at you, Sherlock Holmes!"
“And you’re three weeks after him so…” I lean forward. “Your birthday is next week.”
"Oh look, he does math too," she quips and shoots me a gentle smile that says even she thinks her snark level is high at the moment. It's adorable. Everything about her is adorable at the moment including that slightly too-big jersey, which for some reason, I wish had my name on the back.
“I’ve got skills you do not even know about,” I tell her with a saucy wink that makes her blush. And then it hits me. I don’t know if she enjoyed it. “So, like… I know this is awkward but let’s be honest, that’s kind of our thing at this point, so can you just tell me if you came or not that night. I assumed you did, but first times are notoriously bad for women.”
"Are we really going to talk about this? Like it's a debrief after a work assignment or something?" Olivia goes from pink to red and she starts moving again, toward the bifold.
She yanks them open and once the wall is basically gone, she steps out into the small fenced garden. I can call it that now, legitimately because Mallory and Tate have a ton of potted plants and even a small vegetable plot behind Dylan's toys. Olivia won't look at me. Instead, she's got her back to me and is staring out past the wrought iron fence at the Canals. There's a bright yellow pedal boat bobbing directly in front of the house. I guess Tate and Mallory bought it. I always thought to do that but never actually did.
This house is nothing but a giant concrete ode to ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ for me. Ironic because standing here in the backyard is a woman who has become the exact same thing. I rub my stubbled chin. “I would have been different if you’d told me. I’m not saying you should have. That’s your choice, and I don’t know why you decided not to tell me. But now that I know, I wish I’d known then. I would have been…”
"Charitable?" Olivia offers, and I'm immediately horrified. "Sympathetic. Do me a favor? No, thank you. And no thank you for the sympathy now. It's embarrassing. Can you just go?"
She turns away from me and marches back into the house. I panic. Every step sends a shot of adrenaline through my veins. I'm getting angry with how stupid this has all become. I'm not being clear. She's taking everything the wrong way and I blame myself. I've never been a great communicator. Ask Anne-Marie.
So I do what I do best. Act. She stops to glance at the baby monitor screen and I come up behind her and slide my arms around her waist. Every part of her thin, toned body tenses as I hold her close, her back pressed into my chest. I dip my head and whisper in her ear. “The only charity work I do is for the Quake. You were never, and never could be, a pity fuck, Olivia. I don’t fuck people that don’t make me as hard as the ice under my skates.”
“Oh.” It’s a breathy soft response that makes me very, very hard. I gently push my hips into her soft, round ass. She lets out a small gasp but doesn’t move and doesn’t push me away or protest.
“Now don’t be embarrassed or shy. Remember I’ve seen you naked. I’ve had my dick inside you. I’m the only one you share this bond with right now, so no holds barred, Fireball. Be honest,” I demand, my voice soft but my tone firm. My hands slide around her hips to her abdomen. I slip them under the hem of the jersey. “Did you come when I fucked you?”
“N-No. Not during,” she whispers back and a brief strong wave of disappointment hits me. “I came from your… your tongue before, though.”
I can feel her skin heat everywhere from that confession. My fingers have danced their way up under the jersey and are currently against the soft skin just above her belly button. Why am I so turned on by her modesty? Also, thank Christ I made her come once.
“A lot of women can’t from… you know…”
“You can. With me,” I promise, and she tenses again. “If you want to.”
"What?" She starts to turn in my arms and I loosen my grip so we can be face-to-face. Her cheeks are still pink and her dark eyes wide, with fear or arousal or maybe both. God, I hope it's at least a little of both. "It was a one-night stand."
“Yeah but you were on a mission and you handed me an assignment without letting me in on the details,” I explain. “The mission isn’t complete. I’m a perfectionist and I didn’t do a perfect job. Gimme another chance.”
She bites her bottom lip. I thread a hand through her hair and cup the back of her neck. Her head tips back and our lips are a few, very small inches apart. “I’m… I’m…”
I kiss her. She responds, her tongue meeting mine. She tastes sugary and sweet, like cotton candy and Jolly Ranchers and all those other treats the VIPs get in the lounge. When I pull back her eyes stay closed, eyelashes fluttering. "Let's have a second first time, Fireball.”
There’s a sound—the front door opening—and voices.Lotsof voices. We both jump back, away from each other, like the guilty parties we are. Olivia storms right past the group as they file into the living room, each face with varying shocked looks as they see me there.
“Crew? What are you doing here?” Tate’s tone is confused and there’s a tinge of protectiveness in there. Because it’s weird I’m at his house when he isn’t and I obviously knew he wasn’t here.
“I can’t find my tax statements from last year and my accountant needs them to get my mortgage pre-approved,” I tell him. “He’s on my ass like you would not believe and I keep forgetting to ask you if they’re here.”
“You could have asked me at the rink dude.” He states the very, very obvious.
Tenley is watching Olivia basically run upstairs and when she turns to me her expression is filled with curiosity. I don’t know her all that well but I know enough about her to know that a curious Tenley Garrison is a lethal Tenley Garrison. I purposely ignore her.
Shelby flashes me a stunning, flirty smile and then calls after her cousin. “Liv! Where the hell are you going?”
