“I am so full,” she said when she couldn’t eat another bite. She looked at the table with all the remaining food.
He’d brought them so many options—chicken parm and pasta dishes, some that she knew the names of, others that were chef’s specials. There was no way they could eat everything, so she’d settled for sampling each. “Everything was delicious, Dylan. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He smiled, and the simple act lit her up inside.
Her stomach rolled like a teenager with her first crush. And her sex pulsed, a distinct reminder that she was a woman sitting across from an extremely attractive man who wanted her—and was willing to pull out all the stops to get his way. She was drawn to him on so many levels.
He was smart. He did his job well. He loved football. And he’d set his sights on her. She was attracted to him beyond reason, and this extravagant meal had simply shown her another side of his persistent personality. To her surprise, she couldn’t say she minded being the recipient of all this attention. But the idea of a relationship between them still scared her. More like the idea of a relationship that would ultimately end did.
She picked up one of the dishes still overloaded with food. “I’ll wrap these up for you so you can take them home and freeze them,” she said, rising from her seat. She might not be able to escape from her desire for Dylan, but she could keep busy and get out of her own head.
“You keep the leftovers. You can defrost one after a long day.” He winked at her and stood, then proceeded to help her clean up and freeze the leftovers.
He was making it very difficult not to enjoy and appreciate his thoughtfulness.
“Thanks for helping me. You really didn’t have to.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to.” He leaned against the now-closed dishwasher.
“Well, your mother must have raised you right.”
“She didn’t raise me at all,” he bit out, the harsh tone of voice catching her off guard. He’d been so easygoing all night.
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
He shook his head and swore under his breath. “You had no way of knowing. She took off on us right after my sister, Callie, graduated high school. I still had another two years left. But she was barely around before that. My sister and I pretty much made do on our own.”
Wow. That was unexpected. And so opposite of how she’d been raised. In a big, fancy house with everything she’d ever wanted. A father who ran a hotel empire and traveled constantly—for business, she’d thought—but she’d had her mother and her siblings to support her. Olivia was so close to her own mother she couldn’t imagine getting through the hard parts of her life without her mother’s sage advice and wisdom.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. His expression had shuttered, his jaw tensed. Her heart hurt for the little boy who’d clearly been forced to
make do
.
“What about your father?” she asked hesitantly.
“Didn’t know him. My mother used to say she thought Callie and I had different fathers, and from the looks of us, I’d say she was right.”
“She didn’t know for sure?” Olivia asked, her voice rising with her shock and outrage.
He raised one shoulder. “Men came and went.” The disgust in his voice was obvious.
“How did you … well, end up being you? You got a scholarship and now a great job.” With no adult in the house, who’d cared enough to give him direction or love?
He shrugged, but his discomfort was obvious. “Callie picked up the slack around the apartment, and I worked as soon as I was old enough to get a job. Paid under the table delivering groceries, but it was something. She made sure I did my homework, and I wanted to succeed and make money so I could take care of her for a change.”
“Oh, Dylan. You two are lucky to have had each other.”
“Now that I agree with.” He shook his head and, with the motion, seemed to rid himself of the memories and the mood. “So how about dessert?”
She wasn’t about to argue the change of subject. “What do you have?”
“Cannoli.” He walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed the pastry box he’d put inside.
“My favorite dessert in the entire world! Now I’m going to have to make room. And definitely fit in a workout tomorrow.”
He grunted at that. “What a coincidence. Cannoli is my favorite dessert too.”
“Coffee?” she asked, gesturing to the one-cup brewer.
He shook his head. “No thanks.
She opened the cabinet to pull out plates. “Leave it. Cannoli is best from the box.”
She shrugged. “If you say so.”
They returned to their seats around the table, the open box of Italian pastries in the center. Dylan still seemed quiet, something she attributed to the conversation about his childhood. She decided a change of subject was in order.
“So you’re flying to Arizona this Wednesday,” she said. The Pro Bowl was a week from this Sunday.
“I am.” His eyes lit up at the thought.
The Thunder had four players voted in this year, Marcus Bigsby included. Those playing usually flew in a week or so early and spent quality time at the resort. The guys with families savored the opportunity for a pregame vacation. Arriving on Wednesday would give Dylan a chance to adjust to the time zone change before the planned activities began on Friday night. And he’d be available to monitor player interviews earlier in the day.
He nodded. “I’ll have time to enjoy myself a little before the insanity starts.”
“Starting with a five-hour flight. But it is Arizona, you lucky dog.”
“Have you ever been there?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Maybe someday. I heard the spas in both Phoenix and Scottsdale are amazing.”
“I know I’d love to see you in a bikini,” he said all too frankly, taking her right back to being on the fine edge of desire.
With all the serious talk about his past, she’d forgotten he was determined to both charm and seduce her. The molten look in his eyes, the heat and need all for her, was a heady feeling.
“Dylan—”
“Come here.” He crooked his finger her way.
Frowning, she stood and walked over. He’d turned his chair so he was facing her as she approached. As soon as she came within reach, he pulled her onto his lap.
She squirmed uncomfortably but stilled when she felt his erection beneath her thighs.
“Good idea,” he said in a roughened voice. He smoothed her hair off her cheek, and his fingers lingered, tracing the line of her jaw, gliding down her neck and up again. Arousal became a living, breathing thing inside her.
“Now stop fighting me and let’s talk,” he said, back to taking charge.
Really? How did he expect her to concentrate with his hard length pressing into her, causing her sex to pulse and swell?
She swallowed hard. She had two choices. Ask him to leave or go along with what he had planned.
Not much of a choice.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
He continued to leisurely caress her cheek. “I’m sure you’ve dated before.”
“Of course I have!”
He laughed at her indignant tone, causing her to flush with embarrassment. Her cheeks were probably flaming. “Your point?” she asked.
“Do you give every man who wants to be with you this hard a time?”
She blew out a long breath, understanding now where he was going with this conversation. “No.”
* * *
“Why me then?” Dylan asked, but in his gut, he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Olivia admit what was going on inside her head so they could deal with it and put it behind them, once and for all. If she stopped fighting herself, there was so much for them to explore.
He’d spent too much time imagining the hollows and curves of her body, of her wet heat drenching his cock, of tasting her sweet essence. Jerking off to those thoughts and more. He needed to experience reality, and to do that, he had to quell her misgivings, whatever they were. That had been his plan for the evening, not the detour into his past. The revelations had been like slicing open a vein, but if the insight into what had made him who he was helped ease her fears, it was worth it.
So he’d bled for her. He hoped she was willing to dig as hard, and as deep, for him.
“Well?” he asked, stroking her cheek and enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his hand.
“You scare me,” she said on a soft breath of air. Yet with the admission, she turned her face into his hand, seeking more of his touch. He doubted she was even aware of her actions, but arousal rushed through him at the trust that little action implied.
The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. “Why do I scare you?” he asked. He stopped touching her skin and picked up her thick braid and tickled her shoulder with the end strands.
“It’s complicated. We know each other already. We have an obvious connection. And it’s intense.”
He grinned. “Yes, it is.”
“One of us could get hurt,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes.
And she was afraid that someone would be her. Interesting. “Life’s a risk,” he murmured.
“I’ve lived mine lately without taking too many of those.”
He paused in thought. “Let me catch you if you fall, okay?”
She visibly swallowed hard. “But we work together. Things can get awkward if we don’t work out.”
He couldn’t argue that point. But he wasn’t about to let it stop him either. “You’re the one with the job security, sunshine. If things go wrong, your brother could kick me out on my ass. And I’m willing to take the risk.”
“You don’t know me,” she said.
“But I’m going to.” He’d had enough. “You admitted there’s something real between us. You’re a strong woman who competes in a man’s world, and yet you’re willing to run without seeing how good we can be? That’s not the Olivia I’ve seen so far. She wouldn’t bolt at the first sign of trouble.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You’re right.” But he could tell she didn’t like admitting it.
“So we can agree that when you told me you wouldn’t go out with me because you didn’t want anyone to think you’re weak, that was bullshit?”
“Yes,” she said, even more ungraciously.
He laughed at the mulish expression on her face. She didn’t like being pushed hard, and he admired that. “Good. So now that we’ve gotten all those things out of the way, anything else you want to tell me? Anything else I don’t know about?”
She blinked at him and started to wriggle in an attempt to climb off his lap. Running away again. He grasped her arms to hold her in place. “I’m going to take that as a yes, there’s more I don’t know.”
“But—”
He placed a hand over her lips, and she stilled. “But I’m not going to ask you about it now. I need to earn that right. Agreed?”
She nodded slowly, the tension easing out of her in slow beats. “So what now?” she asked.
With a grin, he reached for a pastry and held it up for her to bite.
* * *
The man was dangerous, Olivia thought. From the hard thighs beneath hers to the delicious treats he offered, to the temptation
he
presented, she was done for. And so what? She was so tired of second-guessing what felt so good. He wasn’t worried, so why should she be?
She grinned back at him, opened her mouth, and let him place the cannoli between her lips. She bit down, and the creamy ricotta squirted inside her mouth.
“Mmm.” She moaned loudly at the sweet taste that exploded on her tongue, and the cream ended up all over the outside of her mouth. “Oh God.” Embarrassed, she looked around for a napkin, but there was none. They’d cleaned up too well.
“Let me,” he said in a husky voice. And he licked her lips, curled his tongue, and sucked the pastry cream into his mouth.
A lick here, a taste there, another nibble on her lower lip. Her belly twisted with arousal, and she clenched her thighs together as his cleanup of dessert turned into a tongue-tangling, lip-clashing kiss.
He grasped the back of her head in one hand and held her firmly against him, his mouth doing seductive, wicked things to hers. Long, slow laps around the inside of her mouth that ended with him sucking on her tongue until she writhed in his lap, her sex damp and pulsing with the need to get closer. She wanted that thick erection pressed against the most sensitive part of her, but her legs dangled sideways over his, and all she could do was moan and want.
He tugged at her hair and tipped her head back, those talented lips now trailing a warm path down her neck until he reached her collarbone. He remained there, tasting her, nibbling with his tongue and teeth. She was certain he’d leave a mark, especially when he nipped hard enough to hurt, a pain that soon blossomed into intense pleasure. And more wetness between her thighs.
“God.” She pushed off him, grasped his shoulders, swung her legs around, and settled herself back on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. Looking into his lust-filled eyes, she shifted until they were groin to groin, her sex nestled against his.
“Take what you need, sunshine.” He raised his hips, and a wave of pure desire washed over her, all encompassing and so good.
She threaded her fingers through his longish hair and kissed him hard, loving how he tasted and how he clearly appreciated the act of just making out and not rushing to the final act. He also wasn’t selfish, and as she rocked into him, her body lit up with need.
“Lift up.”
She did, and he pulled her dress up so he could slip his hand beneath the hem. His big hands cupped her breasts. Warm and solid, the pressure felt so good. She arched her back, pressing her aching nipples into his palms. All the while, her hips rocked back and forth against the swell in his jeans.
“Gotta get rid of all this material.”
Without warning, he yanked her dress over her head, and she raised her arms to help him. He tossed the offending garment onto the floor, leaving her in only a skimpy push-up bra—because the girls weren’t all that big alone—and a barely there pair of thong underwear.
He splayed his hands over her waist and eased her backwards so he could look his fill. A blush rushed to her cheeks. She’d never been all that thrilled with her lean body, but from the sheer approval in his gaze, he didn’t see her the same way.