Then he noticed the photo she held.
Shit. He thought he’d gotten rid of those. Being on the road so much with the team and spending a lot of his free time with his family or going out, he was rarely at home and hardly ever in the living room. While it was one of the warmer, cozier rooms, it only reminded him of how alone he was in the big house by himself…and he didn’t like when those unwanted, foreign feelings of longing overwhelmed him.
Clearing his voice, he strode across the room. “I’ll take that one,” he said, taking the photo from her. “That shouldn’t be there.” Maybe he should comb the rest of the place for any lingering signs of his ex as well, just in case Olivia decided to take that house tour after all.
She studied him. “Janelle?”
No sense in denying it. He nodded, glancing quickly at the image and immediately regretting it. It was taken the night they’d moved into the house. She was sitting in the sunroom off of the back overlooking the big backyard, a family quilt draped across her legs, staring off toward the unobscured view of the mountains. Her expression was pensive, thoughtful, peaceful—a rare moment for a woman with such a driven, firecracker spirit. He couldn’t help but snap the photo unbeknownst to her. She’d looked so beautiful.
At the time he’d been fool enough—or maybe just hopeful enough—to think she was sitting there contemplating their future together. Thinking about the life she’d been talking about nonstop the last few days. That was the moment he’d decided she was the one for him. He’d known he was in love with her, and he’d been on board with everything she’d been planning for their future, but up until that moment the idea of proposing hadn’t occurred to him. It had hit him then like a hockey puck to the heart, and planning a proposal worthy of her became his only focus those few weeks leading up to Christmas.
Now, he knew the truth. She hadn’t been thinking about them. She’d been thinking about her—the future she’d wanted slipping away and whether or not she could be truly happy with the new one she was moving forward with.
“She’s beautiful,” Olivia said, cutting into his thoughts.
“Yes,” he agreed, turning the photo facedown onto the end table and taking a step toward her. “Unfortunately, that beauty hid a lot of potential to do damage.” He hadn’t known real disappointment or the level of hurt he could experience until she’d walked away. And knowing how his pain could consume him was his armor against it. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t see who she really was. Didn’t see how forced her enthusiasm for a future with me was or how strong her ambitions were. I didn’t want to see any of that.” He wrapped his arms around Olivia and pulled her closer.
She stepped into his embrace willingly, wrapping her arms around his waist.
For the first time, talking about Janelle, about the disappointment of the failed relationship, didn’t leave him feeling empty or torn apart. Maybe he’d moved on. Maybe time really did heal. Or maybe the woman in his arms was evoking such feelings of passion and comfort that there was no room for any darkness or sorrow.
Olivia looked up at him. “She must have been crazy,” she whispered.
“Maybe the idea of cleaning this house scared her away,” he said, trying to make light of the moment. Or maybe trying to check his emotions.
She gave him a look that told him he didn’t need to pretend around her, that he could be vulnerable without the consequences of another heartache as she touched his cheek. “She left quite a scar, huh?”
His breath caught in his chest at the gentleness in her touch, the understanding in her eyes, and the connection vibrating between them. “It’s starting to fade,” he said slowly lowering his lips toward hers. He needed to kiss her. He needed to feel her mouth against his—this insane pull toward her making him unaware of anything else.
A fraction of an inch away, he paused and she stood on tiptoes to close the gap. Her mouth eagerly accepting his as her body leaned against him. He tightened his hold on her and deepened the kiss ever so slightly before breaking away. “Fading a little more,” he whispered against her lips, opening his eyes to take in her beautiful longing expression. He kissed her again, and she fisted her hands in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, preventing another teasing break between them.
He backed her toward the wall, then placed both hands on either side of her head, his mouth never breaking contact with hers. Her hands wrapped around his neck as her tongue teased his bottom lip, demanding entry. He felt himself grow thick in his jeans, and anticipation flowed through him, making his entire body sweat and his heart thunder in his chest. The taste of coconut lip balm mixed with the familiar scent of jasmine was an intoxicating combination. Since the night before in his Hummer, he’d been craving another chance to kiss her, hold her, touch her.
This time there wouldn’t be any interruptions preventing them from exploring one another. No bright lights illuminating the bad decision they were on the verge of making. This time they were in his home. He was kissing her, and she was kissing him right back. He wanted her, and there was no denying that she wanted him. This time there was nothing but their own insecurities and fears to stop them.
He knew one thing—he wasn’t stopping unless she told him to. In fact, he might never stop unless she asked him to. The thought only made him harder as his hands fell away from the wall and landed on her hips. He pushed himself against her as his fingers dug deep, holding her in place as his mouth continued its frantic exploration of hers. She wasn’t pushing him away; instead, she clung to his shoulders, drawing him even closer. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her pelvis pushed against his growing hardness, and her thighs tangled with his.
A long, breathless moment later, she pulled away. Her gaze flittered from his lips to his eyes and back again.
The moment of truth. Did they cross yet another line? Or would her common sense tell her to run from this, from him?
“Is there a bedroom somewhere close?” she whispered, her lust-filled, flushed expression making it impossible to look anywhere else. She was so fucking beautiful, he could barely focus on her question.
“There’re four bedrooms close…you can have your pick.”
“The closest one,” she said, ducking under his arm and leading the way down the hall.
Catching up to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck, leaving a trail of kisses as they hurried toward the rooms. “First door on the left,” he murmured against her soft, delicious skin.
They reached the room and he shoved the door open, then scooped her up to carry her inside.
She laughed when he tossed her onto the bed and jumped down next to her. “This bed has to be bigger than a king size. I have a king size, and it looks like a single compared to this.”
“It’s an extra wide and long,” he said, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, which was pink and slightly swollen from their kisses.
“I didn’t know those existed,” she said, before capturing his finger between her lips and sucking gently.
Fuck, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever been with. The playful, teasing look in her eyes was killing him. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone, and it terrified him. “You’re about to find out just how real they are,” he said gruffly, lying back and pulling her on top of him. Placing his hands on her face, he moved her dark hair away, tangling his fingers in its softness. “You are so beautiful.”
She tried to lower her gaze, but he wouldn’t allow her to look away. He needed her to see he meant it, that it wasn’t just words he said before sex, that he found her so fucking beautiful it was enough to make him hesitate.
“I’m sure you’ve had women far more beautiful than me in here,” she said, with a hint of jealousy and the first sign of insecurity he’d ever heard from her. Somehow it made him feel better knowing his wasn’t the only vulnerable heart in the room.
“You’re the first woman to be in here…but even if you weren’t,
you’d still be far more beautiful than even my best dreams.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “You’ve never had anyone else in here?”
“No.” He and Janelle had shared one of the other bedrooms in the house, but not this one, not this bed. This was his bedroom, the one he’d moved into after Janelle left. And he’d never brought another woman back to his place before. It was too personal, too committal.
Yet, he hadn’t thought twice about bringing Olivia there.
She stared at him for a fraction of a second longer, before crushing his mouth with her own.
His hands left her hair, allowing the dark waves to fall forward. The smell of jasmine filled his senses once more as the thick, soft strands tickled his neck. He dragged his hands over her shoulders, down the length of her ribs, around the side of her body and down her back, searching for the zipper on her skirt. Finding it, he stopped, despite the throbbing in his cock that demanded he rip the skirt off and submerge himself inside her soft warmth. “It’s not too late,” he said, his desire not to hurt her, to protect her heart from him, overshadowing his own need for her.
Her breath was labored and her voice hoarse. “We both know it’s definitely too late.”
The hint of hesitation in her voice sounded like premature remorse, and he didn’t want to do anything she would later regret. He knew he wouldn’t. “Do you want me to make love to you, Olivia? Be sure.” If she regretted this in the morning, it would crush him.
“Make love to me, Ben,” she said, hesitation gone.
He wasted no time pulling the zipper roughly and pushing the fabric over her hips.
She wiggled her legs free, kicking the skirt onto the floor, then she reached for the base of his T-shirt.
He sat up and raised his arms to allow her to lift it over his head.
Her eyes skimmed his torso. “Disgusting,” she said with a grin, as her nails raked along his chest and stomach, tickling him.
“That’s not nice,” he murmured, unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it aside. Reaching around, he unclasped the white lace bra and slowly slid the straps down over her shoulders and away from her body. He let the fabric fall onto his stomach and his breath caught at the sight of her exposed chest and stomach, the perfectly shaped, full breasts better than he could have imagined. “Beautiful,” he said again. He’d say it a million times a day, if that was what she needed to believe it. He buried his face against her, enjoying the feel of her nipples hardening beneath his touch. His hands cupping and massaging until she moaned in delight. The mere sound almost finished him off.
“That feels incredible,” she whispered, tossing her head back, her breathing coming in quick, short pants.
Damn. The sounds she was making and the look of tormented satisfaction on her face made him so hard, he reached down and unbuttoned his jeans.
Taking her rough and hard was tempting, but he forced air into his lungs and made himself slow down. He kissed her flesh along her cleavage, leaving a trail all the way to her nipple. He sucked gently, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud, then flicked his tongue across it before grazing it with his teeth. She tasted so good…Sliding his tongue along her skin, he moved to the other nipple and now she was almost whimpering above him. “You’re driving me crazy with those sounds,” he murmured against her skin.
“You’re causing them,” she said, her voice pure seduction, running her hands through his hair.
“I’m so fucking hard right now.” His cock spasmed as a rush of blood left his every other extremity weak with desire. Switching position, he laid her back onto the bed, and kneeling in front of her, he quickly removed his jeans and underwear, freeing himself from the restricting confines of the fabric.
Her eyes took him appreciatively. “Extra-long and wide, huh?”
He shot her a look. “Go easy now…a man’s ego can only take so much,” he said, lowering his head to press his lips to her stomach, kissing a circle around her belly button, as his hands slid up the length of her legs. He reached for the band on her underwear and moved the thong down to her thighs. His eyes slowly drifted over her body and he let out a low whistle.
Below him, Olivia reached forward to stroke his cock, gently wrapping her hand around the shaft. He closed his eyes as pleasure soared through him. It had been far too long since he’d had a woman’s hands on him. She applied more pressure as she stroked up and down and he had to stop her.
“Hey!” she said.
“If you don’t stop, this will be over really fast,” he said. Placing his hands on the inside of her muscular thighs, he eased them open and brought his lips back down to her stomach. “You’re so wet,” he whispered against her skin as he pressed two fingers inside her.
“Oh my God, Ben…” she said, his fingers sliding the length of her swollen, wet pussy. She arched her back, pressing her body against his touch, as though she couldn’t get close enough.
He slowed the pace slightly, moving his fingers in and out, applying pressure then easing off. Knowing they were both so close to the edge, he longed to make this moment last as long as possible. Which wouldn’t be that long, judging by the way his cock was demanding to be touched. With his other hand, he stroked his straining and throbbing length.
Olivia watched, her eyes barely open as her own pleasure grew more intense. She raised her hands to her breasts and massaged them gently, her gaze teasing him with seduction.
Moving away from her, he climbed off of the bed. “Don’t move. Don’t stop. Stay right there,” he said, disappearing into the adjoining bathroom.
Opening the medicine cabinet, he grabbed a condom and seconds later he was back in the room.
She hadn’t moved. She hadn’t stopped. She’d stayed right there.
Oh God, he’d be a lucky man if she’d stay right there forever.
The thought nearly knocked him on his ass, but he pushed it away. He ripped open the package and slid the protection firmly in place before raising her body and positioning her over him. “No regrets,” he said, swallowing hard.
She shook her head, her eyes filled with only longing and desire. “No regrets,” she whispered.
A second later, a shocked cry escaped her lips as he slid her body down over him, his cock burying itself deep in the wet warmness of her. Her nails bit into the flesh of his shoulders as he pushed himself even further. “Too deep?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and moaned, “No…it’s perfect…so fucking perfect.”
“Olivia,” he groaned as her hips moved up and down in a slow rhythm, teasing, killing him. Her hands in his hair, she kissed his neck.
It was too much. He was going to come, and he never came before he pleasured. He eased himself out of her body.
“No…come back, please,” she begged, pushing herself against his erect shaft.
He was throbbing so hard he was afraid he might come anyway. He forced a calming breath as he slid the tip in again gently, then plunged deeper, harder. He repeated the torturous motion several times, his fingers squeezing between them to flick her clit and explore the folds of her pussy.
“I need you inside me,” she said, and he pushed deeper, a moan escaping as she tightened around him.
“Are you close?” he whispered. He was. So dangerously close.
“Yes,” she panted, riding him up and down, faster, harder, until they were both desperate for release.
His hands tangled in her hair and pulled her head backward as he kissed the base of her neck, burrowing his head into her breasts, and came undone. Losing all control, he held her firmly in place as he pulsated inside her.
She pressed her hips into him as her body rippled in pleasure, before relaxing, spent against him.
He kissed her shoulder and smoothed her hair away from her neck.
She leaned back to look at him, and he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, her nose, and her forehead.
“How’s the scar now?” she asked tracing a finger along his chest above his heart.
“I would say it’s almost gone.”
* * *
Lying awake hours later, Olivia sleeping soundly on his chest, Ben struggled with emotions he’d never experienced before. His gut was sending out warning signals that he was heading straight back to a place he’d fought to climb out of. While he was sticking to the vow of no regrets, his mind was begging him to start thinking a little clearer around Olivia—that despite the connection and attraction between them, she had her own life plans…that may not include him. And his heart—the most ambiguous of all—was reminding him that the farther the fall, the harder the climb back up.
He’d always felt as though he’d been partially responsible for Janelle not getting the anchor position in Seattle. While he was supportive of her career, the idea that she would have to move and they’d have to somehow make a long-distance relationship work had made him uneasy. Sure, he was traveling a lot with the team, so nine months of the year they struggled to make things work anyway, but still he had been secretly relieved when she hadn’t gotten the job.
With the relief, a wave of guilt had washed over him. He’d been hoping for that outcome because it made things easier—for him. Their life together was going to be challenge enough, and her not getting her dream position in Seattle was one less thing they needed to consider. It was selfish and wrong, and he felt like an asshole. His guilt was the reason he’d bought her the convertible sports car she’d wanted, against the advice of his financial manager, who warned him against extravagant purchases considering his short-term contract with the Avalanche.
But he’d never worried about his future in hockey. And at the time he was riding high. On top of the world. An NHL contract with his home team for at least two seasons and the love of his life staying in Colorado.
Heartbroken and disappointed about her career.
Seeing her so upset, her confidence waning, had nearly killed him, and he made it his mission to try to make her see the good in the situation. Everything happened for a reason, he said, along with a bunch of other crap people said when things didn’t go their way. He wasn’t buying into it, and he could tell she wasn’t, either.
Maybe This Love Page 18
