by Linda Verji
It was enough to pull Olivia back into the present. “Don’t worry. I’ve got mine.”
She popped her own trunk and crossed to the back of her car in time to hear him say, “I’m like your Batman.”
She gave him a quelling look then bent toward her trunk, muttering, “More like my Hugo Strange.” It took only a quick glance for her to note that the space was empty – very empty. Then it hit her, “Ugh! Lex borrowed my jumpers yesterday.”
“Don’t look at me,” Marcel said when she turned to him with an irritated glance. “Mine are in my car. This is a rental.”
Olivia rubbed her palm over her face. This was turning out to be one of those days. She mumbled, “I’ll have to call my guy.”
“It’s almost ten, Livy. Don’t you think it’s too late to call someone?”
She sighed. “I don’t have a choice.”
He twisted his head slightly and held her gaze. “You could let me drive you home.”
CHAPTER 11
Marcel cussed under his breath as he set Olivia’s gym bag into the trunk of his SUV. Desire and annoyance warred within him. The moment she’d walked out of that building in those shorts, he’d gone hard. She had a body made for touching and those little clothes she wore were like teasing a thirsty man with water he couldn’t have. One of these days he’d buy her an abaya.
With the way his body was aching after her session, he shouldn’t have been able to think of anything other than sleeping – definitely not sex. However, despite the light breeze cooling the night and their mini-argument, he was still aroused. Nonetheless, no matter how sexy Olivia was or how aware his senses were of her she was off limits.
Off limits!
He took a deep gulp of air to calm his nerves before closing the trunk. He crossed the back of the car to the driver’s side. The moment he slipped into the car, her soft citrusy scent tickled at his nostrils. His eyes were immediately drawn to the length of leg revealed by her short shorts. What he wouldn’t have done to be given a chance to lick that silky-smooth caramel skin.
“Marcel.” Olivia drew his attention to her face. “Is this yours?”
He looked up to find her brandishing his copy of Lords of Fiera: The Beginning. An immediate flush of embarrassment rose in him and he leaned over to snatch it.
“Uh, uh!” Olivia laughed as she hid the novel behind her. Her eyes were gleaming with amusement as she repeated, “Is it yours?”
Yes, it was. But acknowledging his love of all things fantasy to Olivia was like handing an enemy a grenade and asking her not to throw at him. Covering up his embarrassment with annoyance, he slammed shut the dashboard where the book had been. “Didn’t your mama teach you not to go through other people’s stuff?”
“Ho, ho, deflection. It is yours.” Leaning back in her seat and cocking her head to observe him, she made a tsking sound. “A closet nerd, I expected better of you, Mr. Isaac.”
Biting back a retort, he said coolly, “Put on your seatbelt.”
“You mad or nah?” She wrinkled her nose in amusement but belted up anyway.
He shouldn’t have offered her a ride. Maybe a long night out in the cold would’ve cooled her tongue. Preparing himself for a long, miserable journey of being teased, Marcel started the car. “I hope you don’t mind if we pass by Sebastien’s place to pick up Pig.”
“It’s your car.” Olivia considered him for a moment then said, “Spoiler alert: Dematius dies by the middle of the book.”
He was so shocked, he stopped the car mid-backing out and turned to face her. His eyebrows lifted in surprise and skepticism. “You’ve read Lords of Fiera?”
“Yes, I’m on the third book.” When she saw the disbelief in his expression, she widened her eyes and shrugged. “What?”
What? So many things! Oh, he wasn’t surprised about Dematius’s death. He’d already read that part. What he didn’t expect was for Olivia to reveal that she’d read it too – or indeed for her to have read it.
“What?” she repeated.
He shook his head. “You can read?”
“Wow.” Her jaw slackened and her eyes gleamed in anger. “This is why we don’t get along. Because you’ve always got something smart to say and-” She paused. Her eyes narrowed then her mouth twitched upwards. Even before she spoke, he knew he wouldn’t like it. She said, “Belub and Tan lose the golden amulet by the end of book one.”
“Livy, stop,” Marcel yelled. Holy Hell! This woman was ruining his book.
But Olivia was unstoppable. “In book two the Pethi get-”
“Stop.” On instinct he turned and smacked his hand over her mouth to stem the flow of her words. Her lips were as soft as he expected. Ignoring their temptation, he threatened, “Say another word about the book and I’ll kick you out of my car.” Her lips curved underneath his palm and her brown eyes twinkled with laughter. Lowering his voice to a threatening growl, he insisted, “I’m not playing, Livy. I will make you walk home. Got it?”
He almost jumped out of his seat when she flicked her tongue against his palm. He snatched his hand away on impulse. The moment he did, she cheerfully launched into, “The Pethi get the amulet but then Craolia, that’s a new witch they’ve introduced, performs some spell…”
Marcel had no choice but to put on some heavy metal to drown out Olivia’s chatter, which promptly started another fight. Now she wanted him to turn down ‘that devil music’ and put on some hip hop.
He’d never met a more annoying woman yet he couldn’t stop his grin when he said, “I’ll change the music if you stop ruining my book.”
Olivia rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine!”
He backed the car out of the lot. “And rock isn’t devil music. Not anymore than your rap.”
“What are you talking about,” she argued. “Rap has a message. Rock music is just noise.”
“Rap music has a message?” he guffawed as he eased the car out of the gate. “Where? Underneath all those hos, niggas, bitches, tits and ass?”
“That’s it. I’m taking your black card away.” She gave him a horrified look and shook her head. “Only an ignoramus who doesn’t know black history and the history of hip hop would say that.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Ignoramus?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I swear if you say something about me not knowing the definition of that word, or dictionaries, I’ll tell you everything that happened in book two… Then start on book three.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” He laughed. He was tempted to keep on teasing her if only to see that angry spark in her eyes again or her slack-jawed responses to his winding her up, but he loved his book too much so he kept his peace.
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got here.” Olivia leaned forward to fiddle with the buttons on his music player as she scanned the songs on his memory stick. “Queen, Foo Fighters, Sex Pistols, Melt Banana… what are these. Marcel, you have horrible taste in music.”
“That’s your opinion.” Which, of course, led to another argument about why her opinion was superior to his.
Their arguments were like ecstasy; thrilling, intoxicating and an aphrodisiac. Marcel didn’t understand why arguing with her gave him such a rush. Even when he was frustrated with her nonsensical arguments, he was slightly turned on.
Some perverse part of him wanted to provoke her, rouse that flash of passion he saw in her eyes when they argued. A more idiotic part of him wanted to close the space between them and shut her up with a kiss. It took supreme effort on his part to keep to his side of the car and his eyes on the road. By the time he pulled up in front of Sebastien’s garage, their argument had shifted from music into whether Beyoncé and Jay Z were really Illuminati.
“I’ll be five minutes,” he said as he exited the car.
“Hurry up.” Olivia poked her head through the open window. “I don’t want to be left with your demon music for too long. It might possess me.”
“Please!” he tossed at her. “You’re already a demon. You don’t nee
d any possessing.”
Rasheeda met him at the door with Pig nipping at her heels. Marcel took a startled step back when he saw her new hairdo. His sister-in-law was already voluptuous; but with the voluminous hair that fell in a cascade of stark, black curls to the middle of her back, she was a force of nature.
He whistled. “How many horses did they have to kill to give you that hair?”
“Several herds.” Rasheeda patted her puffy hair. “Your brother had to max out his credit cards to pay for them.”
“I warned him about you.” Marcel made a tsking sound as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
“Hello to you too.” She chuckled and slapped his chest. “You’re late.”
“Sorry.” Marcel crouched to greet Pig who’d been whirling around his feet waiting for attention. Ruffling his brown fur, Marcel fussed, “Hey, buddy. Missed me?” He looked upwards at Rasheeda. “Was he any trouble?”
“Of course. Like father, like son,” she snorted. “Come in. I left you dinner.”
“Nah! It’s late, and I’ve got someone in the car with me.”
“A girl?” Rasheeda arched her neck to see into his car. “Can I meet her? Can I meet her?”
“No.”Marcel rose to his feet.
“But she could be the one,” whined Rasheeda. She was perpetually in ‘let me fix you up with someone’ mode; which would’ve been fine if she wasn’t the worst matchmaker in history.
She’d introduced him to a girl who on the first date had whined all about her ex. Another one was in her first trimester of pregnancy. Another wanted his bank statements before she committed to a date… He was done entertaining Rasheeda’s attempts at fixing him up. As for introducing her to the ones he found himself? That was a no-no too. They were temporary, and he didn’t want Rasheeda getting attached to them or giving them at ideas.
“Sebastien’s at work?” Marcel asked.
“Yeah. Just me and the twins, but they’re already asleep.” She strained to see into the car. “Is she nice?”
“Bye, Sheeda.”
Pig bounded ahead of him towards the car. As soon as Olivia saw the dog she exited the car to embrace, rumple his fur and coo at him. She turned all her attention to Pig, even opting to get in the backseat with him instead of sitting in the front with Marcel. Pig was just as bad, licking her face, barking happily and generally being a gloating asshole. Feeling strangely bereft, Marcel glared at them through the rearview mirror.
Next time he had Olivia in his car that dog was definitely not coming.
The twenty minute journey to her place wasn’t even half as much fun as the journey getting to Sebastien’s had been. To make matter worse, the moment she stepped out of his car, his disloyal dog jumped out too and rushed ahead of her into the building.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia apologized. “I’ll get him for you.”
“No, let me get him,” Marcel practically snarled as he thrust his own door open. He and that dog needed to have a talk. By the time they got to the stairs, he’d forgotten about what. Mainly because walking behind Olivia had completely fried his brain cells.
His gaze was firmly planted on her ass, and refused to move. She could stop traffic, cause accidents, start World War III with that ass. And those short shorts and heels of hers were only making matters worse. His cock thickened and rose in appreciative response. Her untamed curls swayed with her movements up the stairs, filling his brain with images of sifting his fingers into the dark strands as he thrust deep inside her.
“Bad boy!” Olivia said. Startled and thinking she was speaking to him, Marcel yanked his gaze upwards only to find her pouting at Pig. “You’re not supposed to come with me. Your daddy’s looking for you.” She bent to grab his leash and Marcel almost swallowed his tongue at the erotic movement.
Down boy, he ordered his errant dick. Clearing his throat, he commanded, “Come on Pig, let’s go home.”
Pig didn’t even look at Marcel, busy enjoying the attention of the sexy lady bent over him. He offered Olivia a wide-eyed look and wagged his tail.
“Aw, you’re hungry,” she cooed.
Marcel didn’t know where she got that from. All he could see was his dog playing her like a fiddle. “He’ll eat when we get home.”
“It’s too far, isn’t it, Piggy,” she ruffled Pig’s fur some more before straightening to her full height. Digging into her purse, she said, “Come in. I’ll feed you.”
Within minutes both Pig and Olivia had entered the apartment. Left with the choice of either sulking by the stairs or following them, Marcel sighed in annoyance and stepped into the apartment.
Her home was exactly how he expected it; colorful, cheery and quirky. Multicolored throw-pillows in white, blue, red, yellow and green littered the comfortable white corner couch, to match the lush rugs that covered the stained hardwood floor. The lathe and plaster walls were painted a soft China white and lined with pictures, paintings and old style vinyl records.
She was really not kidding about loving rap. Most of the records on her wall were by E-Hawk, an old-school rapper. She and Sebastien would get along like a house on fire since E-Hawk was his favorite celebrity too.
“Now sit there and let me get you something to eat,” Olivia fussed at Pig as she switched on the TV. As if he was in his home, Pig hopped onto a red poof and turned his attention to the nature show she’d put for him.
That’s when she noticed Marcel. Turning to face him, she asked, “Do you mind if I get you something to eat too?”
“I was beginning to think I didn’t exist,” Marcel grumbled.
Her lips twitched. “Are you jealous of Piggy?”
“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed in annoyance. “He’s a dog. Why would I be jealous of him?”
“Oh, all right! If that’s what you say.” The eyebrow raise she gave him was full of disbelief and her mouth widened into a full-blown smile.
“Stop it,” he growled.
Olivia chuckled. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a moment.”
His mouth twisted as he watched her go, his gaze inevitably drawn to her sashaying ass and the tantalizing length of her legs. When she was gone, Marcel closed his eyes and drew out a long breath as he fought against his maddening feelings. He cussed under his breath as he plopped onto the couch, recognizing his feelings as sexual frustration.
Of all the people he could desire, he had to have the hots for Olivia. He understood why he wanted her; her sexy body, her smart mouth, the way she smelled, her personality, her throaty voice, the tattoos, her laugh… But he didn’t want to want her.
She was Tay’s, not his; forbidden temptation.
His brain understood that, but his body was operating at a more visceral wave-length and didn’t give a damn about logic. Even now her delicate citrusy scent haunted his senses, agitating them.
Stop! He shook his head abruptly, trying to regain some control of this situation. She was off limits, he reminded himself. As soon as she brought the food he would wolf it down then get out of here as fast as he could. On his way home, he’d hit up Camilla, Patricia or whoever was available for a quick booty call, and try to forget that Olivia even existed.
But once Olivia waved his plate of food under his nose, she shot his plans straight to hell. Her cooking was feast for the senses; salmon, roasted pumpkin and an assortment of colorful vegetables. His stomach growled in appreciation of the colorful display and aromatic smell.
He was about to thrust a forkful into his mouth when he stopped midway. Casting a suspicious towards Olivia, he turned the fork towards her. “Taste.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “What?”
“Taste my food.” He held the fork higher. “I saw what you did to Tay.”
She offered him an innocent wide-eyed look and a gasp of shock. “You don’t trust me?”
He wasn’t fooled for a moment. “No.”
She considered him for a moment then her lips twitched in a smile. She placed her own plate on the coffee table then
scooted closer to him. Her eyes glued to him, she leaned forward, parted her lips and took the piece of salmon between her teeth.
She was only eating yet it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen a woman do. Marcel couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips or from the way she flicked her tongue over her upper lip before parting her lips to show him that the salmon was gone.
“Safe to eat,” she pronounced.
That was her opinion. With how painfully hard he was, he wasn’t sure it was even safe to be around her. He hunched over and held his plate over his lap to hide his erection. Luckily she was distracted by Pig who’d wandered closer to her plate instead of his bowl of kibbles.
The food was delicious as it smelled, Marcel dug into it like it was his last supper. He only lifted her head when Olivia asked, “Fantasy novels, huh? I didn’t see that coming. I bet you also dress up for Comic-Con.”
“No, I don’t,” he protested immediately.
“Lies.” She laughed. “Tell the truth, Marcel? Who did you go as last month?”
He tried to ignore the question and her amused, questioning look; even shoveled food into his mouth to keep from answering. But when his mouth was empty, she was still watching him and waiting for her answer. He mumbled under his breath. “Nick Fury.”
He expected her to laugh instead her eyes widened in shock. “No way. I went as Hawkeye.”
There were so many things wrong with that statement he didn’t know where to start. Olivia went to Comic-Con? It was like learning that aliens really existed. Miss Armstead was a curvy, colorful ball of contradictions. His lips curved in a smile, he noted, “Hawkeye’s a dude.”
“Duh!” Her eyebrows lifted. “You think because I’m a girl I can’t be a dude?”
“No,” he quickly defended himself. “I just picture you as a Black Widow. You’ve definitely got the body for it.”
“Oh, flattery? Nice move, Isaac.” She chuckled then tilted her head. “Okay, fine, confession. I wanted to go as Black Widow, but Thane beat me to it.”
“Who’s Thane?” He frowned at the inexplicable pang of jealousy that stabbed at him at the mention of another man.
