by Lily Ryan
It hits me. Now I understand why he has this effect on me. Why he has me so off balance. And intrigued. He reminds me of someone I wish I could forget. The only man I ever loved.
“Does that line have a high success rate?” I ask, anger heavy in my voice. I’m angry at his assuredness. Angry at the memories and emotions he stirs in me. And angry at how my body responds to him.
“What? No.” He looks surprised and upset by my question. The same question he asked me last night “That wasn’t … I wasn’t using a line.”
“Right and the moon is made of cream cheese.”
His eyes drop. No doubt searching for a new and improved cliché. I can’t believe how I almost let myself be taken in by him. Once again he proves to be the same narcissistic jerk I met the night before. Rehearsed and insincere.
“I don’t understand,” Lucas says meeting my eyes once again, looking for the first time nervous and unsure of himself. “What just happened? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I sigh.
“Olivia?”
Shit. I overreacted. I know I did, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I need to rein my emotions in. I can’t judge the world based on my one bad experience.
“I’m just frustrated with this stupid ball.”
Lucas grins and steps back, off to the side once again. As I ready myself for the next shot, I feel his eyes crawl over my body. He does make me nervous. And uncomfortable. In an excited, I-have-butterflies-soaring-through-my-belly sort of way. I raise the club, swing with all my might, and completely miss the ball.
“Nice and easy,” Lucas says, his voice soft and gooey, like melted caramel. “The key is being relaxed. It looks like you want to send the ball to the moon.”
Ooh is he annoying! I want to forget he’s here, so close to me. And that I want him closer. That I want his arms back around me and his hands in places I shouldn’t. I have no chance of doing that if he keeps drawing my attention back to him.
“Maybe I am. I’m using imagery. Pretending the ball is someone’s head.”
He snickers. “Is it my head?”
I mean to place the club head down on the ground, instead I bang it into the green. It’s his fault. All his fault.
“Has anyone told you what a pig headed jerk you are? You’re rude, egotistical and exacerbating!”
Lucas steps closer, reaches for my hand and pulls me against his chest. He takes hold of the golf club and lets it fall gently to the floor. With both his hands free he buries them behind my hair and caresses the base of my head. My heart soars.
“You want to tell me what set you off?”
Looking down, I shake my head.
“Why don’t we take a break?”
I fight to keep my composure. I need to break free from his hold, from his tantalizing touch. I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in the back of my throat. I know the best thing for me is to get far away from him. But I don’t want to.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just go home.”
“No,” Lucas’s eyes betray his disappointment at my suggestion. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t really want to leave do you?” He dips his head down to brush my lips with his own.
Every hair on my body stands at attention. My toes curl.
My resolve melts in his arms. His lips are soft, warm and delicious. And I want more. So much more.
I don’t push away. I don’t try to break free from his hold.
“What did you mean then?”
Again he places a quick kiss on my lips before pulling away. “Wait and see.”
Chapter 8
Lucas
I have no idea what changed her mood so suddenly. Can she be that upset from catching me stare at her? I have to keep myself in check, stay in the present, not get too far ahead of myself or the night might not end the way I want. For a change that means a second date, not sex.
I usher her over to a seat at the table in the back of the room before I disappear to get the supplies Jessie hid for me. I can always count on him.
I glance toward the front of the store. The lights are dimmed and Jessie is nowhere to be found. He knows I’ll lock up and return the keys in the morning.
Great. We’re alone. Just like I planned. I step out from the area behind the canvas with a large weaved basket in one hand and a blanket slung over my shoulder.
I notice a smile creep across Olivia’s face as she watches me lay the blanket across the green carpet.
“You going to stay there or join me for a picnic?”
“A picnic? Really?” Her eyes light up again. “I never had a real picnic. Not that this is real, but it’s more real than no picnic at all, ever.”
I smile as she rambles on, highlighting her nerves. Glad I’m not the only one trying to feel my way through the situation. I spread the blanket over the fake green grass.
“We can go anywhere you want. East coast. West coast. Augusta?”
“Anywhere?”
I nod.
“But you mean just on a golf course don’t you?”
“Trust me, they’re beautiful and can be incredibly romantic.”
She twists her mouth, I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Fine. I’ll prove it to her. Standing at the computer I search for a course I know well. One with a lot of trees and water hazards. I give us clear blue skies with nothing but birds chirping in the background.
Next, I set the time of day. I’m tempted to set it for night. I’d love to simulate a picnic under the moon, but I’m not sure if that might make her uncomfortable. Especially since I know what it will do for me.
I decide on sunset. It will start out light, and as time elapses we won’t notice the darkening of the sky. Not for a while anyway. Hopefully by that time, she’ll be ready for some romantic moonlight.
I move the basket onto the blanket and drop down to my knees. “It’s hard to have a picnic if I’m here and you’re all the way over there.”
Olivia takes small steps. Her movements are graceful, like a ballerina. I enjoy watching her move. Even when she swung the golf club like a madwoman at the ball, I couldn’t force my eyes off her. I haven’t been so smitten with anyone in years.
It doesn’t matter, it will be over soon. Once sex is out of the way they all lose their appeal. Although, Olivia has a sweet, sensual air about her that she seems oblivious to. In the end I doubt she’ll be any different. For now though, I’ll soak up every minute with her I can.
Olivia sits, her eyes alight with excitement and curiosity. I open the basket and start setting out the delicacies I prepared. First, I pull out a bottle of sangria and two glasses. In my experience it’s a good choice for beginners or someone that doesn’t really like wine.
I open the bottle and pour. I glance at her face, aware that she’s nervous and stop abruptly.
“You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”
“A little late to ask now, isn’t it?” she teases.
“No seriously. I just realized I don’t know how old you are.”
“Seventeen.”
“What?” I feel the color drain from my face. Seventeen! Holy shit. She’s nine years younger than me? I hear the clinking of the jail cell behind me. How the hell didn’t I realize? Even though we only kissed, I can get in a lot of trouble with her. It’s not worth the risk.
“Relax, frat boy. I’m twenty-two and out of college. Yes, I can drink.”
A wise ass huh? I want to pull her over my knee and spank that ass of hers until she begs me to stop. And then maybe bite it. Then lick it. My head spins with desire.
I should lay her down right now and teach her a lesson. I feel my jaw clench as I convince myself not to try to fuck her just yet. I’m not the problem, my growing dick is.
I give her a stern look as I take the plastic dishes out, placing one in front of each of us. Finally, I pull out a Tupperware container filled with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I prepared.
“Look at this,” She picks one u
p, “You quartered them and even trimmed the crust. I’m impressed.”
I shrug. “It’s a picnic, I thought this was picnic-y food. And who likes the crust?”
“You did good. It’s my favorite.”
“I think you’re just saying that.” I size her up with my eyes. And for desert,” I reach in the basket one more time for the container of fruit; grapes, strawberries and blueberries, along with a can of whipped cream.
Chapter 9
Olivia
He had me. I’ll admit it. I let myself be taken by the careful planning he’d done and the romantic atmosphere of the faux picnic. Just as he’s about to tie closed the thread wrapping me around his pinky, he pulls out the whipped cream. Really?
“Whipped cream?”
“What you don’t like whipped cream?”
“I don’t like the implications of whipped cream.”
“Oh.” His face softens, a smile plays at the corners of his lips. “I thought it went well with the fruit,” he lies. I know he’s lying. I can see it in his eyes. “I had no idea you had such a dirty mind, but that’s good to know.”
“Dirty mind?” I want to deny it, but my beat red cheeks won’t allow me to. They already gave me away.
“You don’t expect me to believe you were only thinking of fruit do you?”
“Of course. I respect you far too much to think you’d want to do anything that kinky on our first date. But if that’s what you’re into, I’m happy to oblige.”
“Okay, okay, enough!” Is he really trying to make me out to be the sex fiend here? “Because getting us alone like this, with no one else in earshot, you had no intentions of trying to get lucky?”
“Lucky?” He looks amused.
“Okay, laid. Happy?”
He laughs. “I wanted to do something a little different. Something out of the box that might surprise you.”
“That’s it? That’s all you were going for?”
He pops a sandwich square into his mouth. “You’re so cynical.”
“I call it realistic.”
“Date a lot of losers?”
“No. Just guys like you. They’re all sweethearts looking to get laid.”
Something in his eyes darkens. His voice drops. Right along with my heart.
“And yet,” he leans in close enough for me to feel his breath on my lips. His voice is low, his eyes pierce mine. “You’re here with me. So what does that say about you?”
“It says I’m not cynical.” I swallow hard. I have to turn this around, and fast. I take a deep breath hoping I didn’t just jump off a bridge without a bungee cord. “It says I’m hopeful. I’m hoping you’re not like all the other guys I’ve gone out with.”
“Were they all like that?”
I shake my head. “No. But you know how it goes, the ones you really like end up disappointing you.”
“And what category do I fit in?” He scoots over close to me, and brushes my hair back behind my ear. How I wish that hand would trail down my neck to my breast. “The ones you like or the ones you really like?”
“I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Maybe this will help categorize.”
My heart hammers against my chest in anticipation. Lucas has one hand at the nape of my neck. His eyes drop to my lips as his mouth inches toward mine. He moves so slow, each second drags, making me want him, want this kiss, with an aching need.
I can’t take it anymore, he’s not moving fast enough. I reach for him. My hands hold on tight to his shoulders, and pull him closer. His lips reach mine and I move so that I’m pressed up against him, chest to chest as I part my lips and welcome his tongue in my mouth.
My fingers run through his hair, gripping. Pulling. Holding his head close to mine so he can’t pull away as our tongues twirl and dance in unison.
“This is as devious as my plans are.” He leans his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “To steal a few sweet kisses,” he whispers with hooded eyes, and a heaving chest, “while I get to know you a whole lot better.”
Chapter 10
Lucas
I look at the little boy in front of me and study his expression. Today is going to be rough. His eyes are blank. I don’t see any emotion in them. He doesn’t want to be bothered. That’s fine. I need a challenge to keep my mind off Olivia. I need to focus on work.
The day didn’t start well. I never heard the alarm go off. Luckily my internal clock took over. I hate running late. It puts me on edge for the whole day. I can’t remember the last time I overslept. It’s her fault. I went to sleep much later then I should’ve because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
After the cold shower that did little more than wake me, I went back to imagining all the ways I wanted to get to know Olivia: in bed, tied up, on her knees. Every image, every scenario, they all ended sexually. I twisted and turned in my sheets, longing to feel her body against mine.
Five times I jerked off between the time I got home and woke up this morning. Five fucking times I used the palm of my hand to imagine the feel of her mouth. Of her pussy. And I’m still as horny as a teenage boy looking for his first fuck.
Knowing I make her nervous, that I fluster her, makes me want her more. I want to spread her legs and ram my cock into her. I want to watch close up as those feelings of uncertainty turn into a sexual confidence.
When she called me out with the whipped cream, I thought for sure she’d bolt. I didn’t exactly lie. But when I put it in the basket, fruit wasn’t the only thing I hoped we’d lick it off of.
A long time has passed since anyone held my attention like this. Most dates are spent with my head a million miles away, until it’s go time and the clothes come off. That’s when I give them my undivided attention.
“Okay Jake, I need you to match. Could you do that for me?”
I give him a chance to answer. He stares at my collar with no expression on his face. I lay out six picture cards face up on the table. I hold the matches to the cards and hand him the first one.
“Match apple.” I pair the word with the sign. Communication is key. If he can communicate we can reduce his frustration and doors will open.
Jake stares.
“C’mon buddy, you can do this.”
He still won’t say anything for me. In just two weeks he mastered the isolated point, matching physical items, and learning the people in his family. He had a couple of signed words before I came; milk and more but that’s it. It’s time to move him on to the next challenge. Matching pictures.
Jake stands and looks out the window.
“Go,” he says, pointing to my car.
I pick him up and swing him high in the air, knowing he loves the sensory input. He did it! He spoke spontaneously! “Good boy, Jake!”
It’s not what I want, but still it’s a win. I love that he put it together on his own: the word, the point, the meaning. It’s just the wrong time for it. Today is going to be a good day after all. I bring him back to the table.
“Look at my eyes, Jake.” I wait for him to comply, not letting him squirm his way out of the seat. “You want me to go? You need to match for me. When you’re done matching I’ll go. Match apple.” I hand him the card again. This time he places it on top of the picture of the apple.
The next hour flies by. We made progress and while his mother seems over the moon, she isn’t nearly as excited as I am. It’s a small victory, but a victory none the less. I can’t wait to tell Olivia.
Chapter 11
Olivia
I need to pick up groceries after work. Lucas called earlier in the day to see if I can meet him for dinner. I don’t think seeing him again so soon is a good idea. Especially since I can’t get him off my mind.
All day, no matter what I do, my mind races back to him. His cocky attitude. His smug, self-assured smile and steely grey eyes. How his body moves with confidence and perfect precision. I take a deep breath bringing myself back to the moment and out of the image of unbuttoning his s
hirt and running my hands over his bare chest. His mouth on my neck, moving down, his hand rubbing between my legs …
Taking stock of the aisle I meandered down, I forget what I’m looking for. I pull my phone out and check my shopping list, but not before I spot another text message from Ava. We’ve been texting about Lucas all day.
Once again I’m consumed by thoughts of him, until I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn to find a clerk holding a single red rose out for me.
“Seems like you made an impression on someone,” he says, handing the flower to me.
There has to be some sort of mistake. No one would give me a flower. I have a good rapport with the head of the fish department, but he just sneaks me an extra piece of flounder every now and then. I look around, hoping to see whom the flower is really meant for. The clerk and I are the only people in the aisle.
“No mistake,” the clerk replies. “It’s for you.”
“Who’s it from?” I ask, still skeptical.
He shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to who comes in here.” The clerk pops his ear-buds in and goes back to restocking the shelves.
I continue walking down the aisles, and run into two other stock clerks each with a red rose from my secret admirer. Neither give any details about the mystery man the roses are from.
As I continue to gather the groceries, I smile so much I feel my face cramp. I search each face I pass, no one looks familiar. No one bothers to glance in my direction. And there is no sign of the guy I wish they are from.
As I approach the cashier, disappointment sinks in. What began as the most promising shopping trip I’ve ever embarked on is ending on a very flat note. Over all, it’s coming up short on sparks and intrigue.
He appears out of nowhere. A single red rose in his hand.
I stand dumbfounded. Speechless. Lucas approaches, the unruly dark waves of his hair highlighting his grey eyes. The moment our eyes meet I’m lost, mesmerized by the fact that he is here in front of me. I wanted him, and I got him. Every nerve ending in my body tingles.
