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 immature 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.