Page 67 of Puck to the Heart
“So—so are you.” Her voice was small as she glanced down, almost like she was afraid to say it.
“Say it again, Barnes. At least look at me when you’re flirting.” There was no reasonable explanation for why I needed to hear it again, but I did.
The familiar questioning curve of her brow creased, but she met my gaze steadily. “You know what you look like. But.” A puff of breath stirred the hair around her face. “It’s… more than your looks for me.”
Holding my breath, I waited for her to continue. It seemed she had more to say but was choosing her words carefully.
“I think I—Ash, I think I—” The end of the sentence suffocated with its weight, and though she didn’t say the words, they might as well have exploded in neon lettering between us. Olivia’s eyes darted around as if she was afraid to look at me, her body visibly tensing. “And it scares me,” she let out in a final rush.
Dropping before her, I took her hands. She always had such an effect on me, this ability to bring me to my knees. “Don’t be scared. It’s new for me, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Me too. I mean, I feel the same.” Now I understood why she struggled to meet my eyes and let the words trail off. It flayed every nerve and somehow soothed them at the same time, ripping myself apart to show her the deepest hidden spaces I’d never examined with anyone else.
Olivia’s forehead rested against mine for a moment as her fingers slid through my hair to rest lightly against my nape. Until I couldn’t stand it any longer and crushed her to me, easing her backward and covering her mouth with mine, engulfing her body with mine.
Tension built along my spine, a far-off thunderstorm rumbling, growing deeper as it ate up the distance until electricity sparked in the air.
Each brush of her mouth, the slide of her tongue against mine detonated something in me until all that remained were the words still hanging in the air between us. I needed to show her how much I meant those words, even if we didn’t speak them.
Trailing my mouth from the soft skin of her jaw, I drank in her familiar scent. A sound left her lips as she slid her hands lower, from my hair down to my shoulders over the lapels, where her fingers dug in. The rumpled fabric was oddly fascinating, her grip so tight the black material strained with her touch.
My heart strained, hoping her ardor matched mine in the moment. I wasn’t sure I had better words to articulate how much her support meant to me, what it meant when she waited for me. Whatshemeant.
Her name came out as a prayer as I hauled her close again. Olivia’s body went soft beneath mine as she wrapped her legs around my waist.
Then her fingers were tugging the jacket off my shoulders, then ripping open shirt buttons, then sliding over bare skin. All restraint left me in an instant; a groan slipped out at her touch.
The pants she stole from me were so large they came off with a sharp tug, revealing silky black underwear. Olivia moved to remove the jersey, but I grasped her wrists to stop her. “Leave it on. I like seeing my name on you.”
Olivia’s sky-colored eyes went round then soft then mischievous. “Isn’t your name on the back?”
“Yep.” I walked into that one.
“So, you can’t see?—”
“Not yet. But I will.”
“Oh, yeah? How so?”
“You’ll see. But first,” I nuzzled her neck again, sliding my hands over the smooth skin of her newly bared thighs. “First, I’m going to show you how much I—” it was too soon to say it, the word that weighed too much in my mouth but tasted like wine. “—appreciate you. I don’t think you realize how much it means that you watched my game.”
Her nose wrinkled. “But I couldn’t be there, it’s not the same.”
“I know, and I know every game won’t be possible. But even though it wasn’t this time, you were supportive in another way. And that’s… important… to me.” There was no way to explain it other than to show her.
Ash’sblack eyes left a tangible trail as he dragged his gaze back and forth, as if choosing where to begin. It didn’t make sense, how strongly he’d reacted to finding me on his couch, waiting up for him. I did what I assumed I was supposed to do in the situation. Actually, I enjoyed being able to watch the game on the tv. With subtitles, I didn’t lose what the announcers said while keeping the droning din of the background out of my ears; muting it helped me focus on him. Still, it wasn’t quite the same as being there, feeling the energy of the crowd, even if sometimes, the crowd became too much to handle.
But my nerves were on fire now. If Ash looked at me like he wanted to eat me just for watching his game on tv, I couldn’t fathom what he’d do if I did something truly serious.
Then his hands were on me, drawing fiery paths up my legs, disappearing beneath the oversized jersey. His nails scraped lightly over my sides, the sensitive skin there feeling more like a burn at the too-light touch. With a hiss I moved my hands to press his down harder, and he adjusted easily.
It always left the sweetest ache, how responsive Ash was, how eager to please and unwilling to cause discomfort.
His hands, so large andwarmon my skin, slid higher, slower, thumbs moving in small arcs over my waist, growing closer to the sensitive undersides of my breasts. With my legs still around his waist, I pulled him closer until his weight crushed me back down on the sofa.
Slow-burning agony diffused low in my belly as Ash drew delicious curving, mindless patterns on my body. The time he spent pleasing me left my head spinning with how badly I needed him. “Ash, don’t go slow.”
