Finally!
His lips touched hers and she thought she would burn from the inside out. Everything in her wanted to get closer.
When he looked at her, when he kissed her like this, Sam felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. For the first time in years, it was like being seen again.
His hands stroked down her back, tugging her closer. It wasn’t the insistent need of what they’d shared in the kitchen, this was…deeper. Needier.
Their legs tangled and she tripped over him tripping on her. Oliver caught himself on the low retaining wall around the trail head and the arm around her waist tightened. He grinned and crowded her back against the brick. She was grateful for something besides him to prop her up.
Her heart and head were spinning in different directions.
She might have forgiven Oliver, they might still lust after each other, but none of that meant this was anything more than scratching an itch. Right? They didn’t know if they were compatible as adults, how much they’d changed.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “Where’d you go just now?”
Sam smoothed her hands down his chest. Even though Oliver worked behind a desk, he still had the body of a god, all hard, toned muscle.
“What is it we’re doing?” She needed to know. To label this. They had to fit in a box. Test driving wasn’t exactly a state of being. It was an action. Like kissing or…other stuff.
“What do you want to do?”
“Oliver—I want you to answer the question.” Or she was going to strangle him with her phone cord.
“I don’t know what we’re doing. We’re seeing where things go. What feels good.” He braced his hands on the wall behind her, leaning his body against hers.
Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Bullshit.” She prodded him with a finger.
“Seriously, Sam. No games. No plans. I’m just doing what feels right. I don’t know why I waited until now to tell you, or why kissing you, holding you feels right. It just does. And…I’m not questioning it. That’s not the answer you wanted, is it?”
“It’s not a clear-cut answer. Neither is ‘seeing where things take us.’ What if you’re in a different headspace tomorrow?” She was pretty sure she knew how she felt, but she hadn’t had time to think it through yet. And if she hadn’t, how could he?
Oliver kissed the corner of her mouth, then the tip of her nose.
“I want you to feel what I feel,” he whispered.
The non-answer stoked the burning embers in her belly, and she wanted to strangle him.
Why—of all the men on the planet—was he the kind of guy who followed his feelings?
“Turn that big, beautiful brain of yours off for a minute.” He kissed down her neck. “Just feel.”
Sam was going to strangle him with feelings except…
Oh—my…
She swallowed and tipped her chin back, gripping the edge of the retaining wall. His mouth caressed her skin. Her nipples tightened, chafing against her bra.
This was a bad idea.
Letting him kiss her only led to one thing.
His fingers drew circles over her breast.
Hot breath fanned over her chest.
Bad idea. Bad idea…
Why?
There’d never been another man like Oliver in her life. What he did to her…this was wrong?
It wasn’t smart, necking like this in public, but they were alone. It was just the two of them. And his mouth on her skin, his touch, it felt right.
She wanted it.
Oliver whispered words against her skin that she couldn’t make out. He tugged her tank top up, his fingers caressing the skin at her waist.
She wanted him. Now. But this was a park. A public place.
Sam couldn’t shut her brain off that much.
“Oliver? Oliver, stop.” She pushed her fingers through his hair and tugged.
He lifted his head and stared at her.
She swallowed.
He wanted her.
Not that she’d had much doubt about that.
It was what came after that worried her.
“Not here,” she said.
Oliver backed up a step, glancing right and then left.
They couldn’t go to her place. She didn’t trust herself to actually leave if she went to his. His little two-seater car was far too small.
He crossed to the other side of the path and peered over the edge.
Damn, the man had an ass.
“Come here.” He held out his hand.
Oliver led her around the hip-high wall, onto the grass. The ground sloped away, leading to a stony landing before dropping off into a dry drainage creek. He pushed her up against the bricks, the wall at her back and the trees overhead sheltering them in the darkness.
Anyone could walk by…and unless they looked straight down, no one would see them.
Oliver’s mouth found hers in the darkness, hot, insistent.
“Stay right here,” he whispered, voice rough. “And be quiet. Very quiet.”
Why did that sound like a threat?
Her head spun, her brain on overload. Too many things, thoughts, sensations assaulting her at once.
Oliver’s hands caressed her knees, sliding her skirt up.
Oh, no…
She froze, a similar memory tickling the back of her mind.
The temperature had dropped. Their roommates were both throwing parties. So they’d taken blankets out to a secluded area. Under the blanket…he’d touched her in ways she’d never experienced before.
Oliver now nudged her legs farther apart, his hands already caressing her thighs, sliding up farther.
If she did this, there would be no stopping him. No going back. No calling it off.
Why would she?
They hadn’t seen another soul since arriving.
She widened her stance.
The darkness obscured his face, the need etched in the lines of his brow, but her memory filled in the holes. The burning way he looked at her.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, not even playing around. Why should he?
The moment he led her down here, they both knew what was going to happen, what she was agreeing to. And, truth be told, she wanted to feel alive like this. The way only Oliver had made her feel.
He drew her panties down her legs and stuffed them in his pocket—ever thoughtful.
She held her breath, waiting.
His touch was firm. Nothing hesitant about it.
His fingers slid along her, pressing into her slit. A fresh wave of heat swept through her at the sound of his groan. His teeth scraped along her thigh.
That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
He pushed her left knee up and over his shoulder and plunged his fingers into her. She gasped and dug her fingers into his hair.
No sound. No sound!
She bit her lip and closed her eyes, surrendering to the feel of him. His lips. His touch.
He kissed her mound, and her knee nearly went liquid. If it weren’t for him and the wall, she might just end up on the ground.
It wasn’t just what he did or how he did it, but it was him. Oliver. That mattered. Their connection defied logic or reasoning, he simply made her feel deeper, stronger than anyone else.
She rocked her hips into his touch, his lips working their way down to the needy, throbbing bundle of nerves.
Oh!
She pressed the back of her hand over her mouth while she sucked air between her teeth.
His tongue rubbed against her clit. Strong, firm strokes.
What did it say that he still remembered that?
They might as well have not been apart for a day, with the way they were picking up where they’d left off. There was no slaking of the intensity of her feelings, how he affected her—it was still there. And she was a starving woman in need of more of him.
His fingers curled within her, and the muscles in her
abdomen fluttered.
She groaned, despite her attempt to keep quiet.
Sam wanted him.
She wanted him now, and not like this.
She jerked at his hair, hard. He still didn’t budge.
Oh—no—oh!
He dug his fingers into her ass and her pussy, his tongue stroking her. She pressed her hand to her mouth, smothering the sounds she couldn’t control, muting the shout that escaped her lips.
The world went bright, white lights blossoming in her vision, her muscles turning to goo. She wasn’t in a park up against a wall, she was floating on air.
Arms wrapped around her waist and Oliver’s big body pressed her to the bricks. He muttered bits of Spanish, words she couldn’t make out with no more than one brain cell functioning.
The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her hip.
She still wanted him.
After all this time, after all they’d said and done, her desire for him wasn’t gone. Just ignored and pushed down deep.
She reached for him, no longer the shy girl she’d been back then. If she’d taken one thing from him, it was that the bold were rewarded for grasping what they wanted.
Oliver grunted, his hips pressed against her, pushing himself into her hand.
“Sam.” Her name was forced from his lips.
“I want you.”
The plain, honest truth.
She wanted what they’d had, what they could have again. All of it. Now.
“Maybe…not now.” He dropped his head against her shoulder.
“Yes. Now, Oliver.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.” His chuckle was pained. “I didn’t exactly come prepared.”
“You…you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m not.” He laughed into her shoulder. “I wish I was, but I’m not. Fuck me.”
“Kiss me?”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than his lips found hers, his tongue stroking hers.
She slid her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, feeling for the elastic band of his underwear—there. He palmed her breast, stroking her body.
Yeah, they should have been better prepared. There wasn’t a world where they could just be friends. That wasn’t possible. They were either clawing each other’s clothes off, or clawing out each other’s eyes. There was no in-between.
She yanked on his jeans, working the tab free. He didn’t help her one bit, too focused on her breast, but she managed well enough on her own.
Sam pushed her hand past his underwear and cupped his erection. She could feel the throb of his pulse against her palm, the heat of him in her skin.
This, between them, was right.
It felt good.
She stroked him, relearning his size and shape. Oliver rocked his hips, his hands in her hair. She tightened her grip and he groaned, just right.
“Can you come?” she managed to get out.
“How can I not?” His words were barely audible. Strained.
She grabbed him by the wrist and placed his palm over her breast. He squeezed, not too tight, just enough.
Christ, the memories of him, this, weren’t enough. Had she forgotten how it was? How they were?
His hips jerked, she stroked him, using the moisture seeping from his slit to ease her way. He dug his hand into her hair and captured her nipple between his fingers through layers of fabric.
“Sam—oh!” He grunted out her name and covered her hand with his.
Warmth seeped from between her fingers, coating his skin.
She stared at him, his eyes glistening in the darkness, and knew she was in way over her head.
Sophia flipped through her notes, discarding one, adding to another one.
This was not looking good.
The vote coming up on the trade negotiations was not going to be in France’s favor. The U.S. and the U.K. were too friendly. She needed more clout. Something she could throw out there to sway things their way.
Her cell phone rang.
She frowned at the display.
Why was he calling so late?
“Yes?” She eased back into the chair and picked up her glass of wine.
“Check your email.”
Sophia considered ending the call right there. She did not take orders from anyone, but considering what she’d had the man doing all day, she obliged him.
She bypassed her two work accounts and instead went for a spare phone. One that she used to access a sensitive email account. Sure enough, he’d sent several large files in numerous emails.
“Got it yet?” he asked.
“Hold on.”
Sophia clicked the first message and grinned.
Well, now. They were about to have a sex scandal on their hands, and those always had a way of motivating the American players in such a way that she could see things going her way.
Oliver parked at the curb in front of Sam’s house. The front lights were still on and he could see Lily, plain as day, sitting at the dining room table.
Well fuck.
So much for making use of a big, soft bed. He’d hoped against hope that they’d luck out.
“We could always go to my place,” he suggested.
“Then what am I going to tell Lily?”
“What are you going to tell her, period?” Hours ago, Oliver would have been annoyed, but after her touch, the way she’d responded to him, he knew they’d made progress. Pushing for more would set them back. Let her believe this was a casual test-drive of what they could be. She was lying to herself, she just hadn’t realized it yet.
“I’ll say that we talked, I walked around, met up with friends, and did my own thing.” Sam slung her bag across her chest and ran her hands over her tank top, adjusting the straps over her shoulders, how her skirt lay across her thighs. Looking anywhere but at him.
He knew those signs.
They’d given him endless pleasure before. And they still did.
Sam didn’t know how to process her feelings, and so she’d make sure every other thing was exactly perfect. It was as though she expected to find the answer for intangible feelings in putting physical things in order. And it wasn’t. What he felt for her, how they were together, it was…unique. There wasn’t a rule book, no signs pointing the way—it was all in what felt right. Surrendering to the passion of it, or risk getting burned up resisting it.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers, the middle of her palm, her wrist. Her pulse fluttered against his lips.
“Hang out with me.” He didn’t care if they walked the length and breadth of the National Mall, which was prime Monster-Go hunting territory, or if they stayed in and got tangled in her sheets. He needed to log time with her. Make her feel. Remember what they had been, and could be.
“I’ll think about it.” She tried to tug her hand from his, but he didn’t let her go.
Oliver leaned toward her, chasing her across the car.
“Say yes,” he whispered, then kissed her shoulder.
“I don’t know.”
What she meant was…her body was saying one thing, and her head another. He wanted to force the issue, convince her to see things his way, but that wasn’t going to win her over.
“Okay. Let me know about tomorrow?” He released her hand and straightened.
Oliver wasn’t giving up, but it was time to make a plan for how to win—and keep—Sam. He wasn’t above fighting dirty, and he was prepared to use whatever tactic was necessary.
The game was on, and the prize was her.
7.
Samantha walked up the stairs to the Smithsonian Library just off the National Mall. She’d turned down Oliver’s offer to pick her up, in the hopes that she might lose some of her nervousness in the transit.
No, she was as nervous—if not more so—to see him today than she’d been
last night. Or this morning.
Shit, what was she doing here?
What were they doing?
Sam stepped through the doors. Ahead of her, the iconic elephant stood in the rotunda, greeting guests. She could always duck out. Leave. Tell Oliver that something had come up. But then she’d feel guilty, and he’d know what she was doing. She could feel his crosshairs on her, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Before…in college…they’d sort of fallen into a relationship. He’d kissed her, one thing led to another, and they were a couple. She’d never experienced the full-on pursuit she’d watched him conduct in high school.
Oliver was a man who got what he wanted. She was pretty sure he liked the chase, working for what he desired. Her? It made her so anxious she couldn’t eat or sleep or…
She should leave now.
Her stomach was full of butterflies and her nerves in knots. It was one thing to read about a valiant hero pursuing the woman of his heart, and an entirely other thing to be the one pursued. She didn’t have her thoughts sorted. She didn’t know what she wanted. How she felt. None of it made sense.
Lily hadn’t left until much too late, and by then, Sam had fallen into bed, her body wrung out and her brain strung tight.
At least Lily hadn’t suspected anything. Because why would Oliver want Sam?
She felt rotten for lying to her sister, but it wasn’t like Lily was an impartial sounding board to help Sam figure out her relationship with Oliver. They’d gone from enemies to friends to…what were they? What did she want?
Whatever the answers were, they’d change things between not only her and Oliver, but Oliver and her entire family. That was why she had to be careful, had to think things through, really know what she wanted. Their involvement could rob him of his new family if things went bad again. Or, she could be the one on the outside. Who could tell?
“There you are.”
Sam started and whirled around, one hand pressed to her chest. Oliver caught her other hand in his.
Crap, she was jumpy.
“Sorry.” Oliver smiled, not the least bit repentant. “You look beautiful, as always.”
He lifted her hand, turning her in place.
“Thanks.”
The Jock and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 3) Page 6
