He laughed softly, wishing he could take her home and have her in his bed all night. “I think Quinn’s right on the mark about one thing.”
Olivia’s gaze angled up to his.
“I think there’s a softie inside this pretty shell of yours,” Tate told her.
“Oh no.” She leaned back and shook her head with an obstinate frown. “Uh-uh. Not me.” She fisted her hand and tapped her chest over her heart. “Stone right here, dude. Granite. Quinn stole all the good stuff in the womb. Left me with nothing redeemable. Just ask her.”
Tate was grinning, completely against his will. “I didn’t have to. She volunteered the information.”
“Oh, God.” Her shoulders sank. “I’m afraid to ask.”
Now, so close to her in the light, Tate saw all kinds of things he hadn’t seen before. Like the darker rim on the edge of her light blue eyes. And the length, curl and golden color of her lashes without mascara. Like the little scar above her right brow and the smooth texture of her skin. “She said you’re a beautiful person.”
She waited, and when he didn’t go on, another brow winged upward. “And in the same sentence she said…?”
“Why do you do that?”
“Because I know her. She’s my twin. So tell me how that sentence ended.”
He sighed. “She thinks you’re just a little lost.”
Olivia broke out in laughter, and when her head tipped back, it was all he could do not to press his mouth to her throat.
“You’re not lost?” he asked.
When she looked at him again, she was smiling, but the sparkle of laughter didn’t reach her eyes. “Quinn thinks I’m lost because her version of happiness and mine differ. Because I don’t follow American norms. Because I’m not striving for the American dream.”
“What are you striving for?”
She stared at him an extended moment, gaze distant, lips parted. After a second, her walls went up. She closed her mouth, thought about it some more and said, “That changes as my life changes. We’re not all born knowing where we want to end up. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, ‘Not all those who wander are lost’.”
“My sister is one of those.”
“Ah, a kindred spirit.” Her smile was warm. “Where does she live?”
“Here.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Are you close?”
He nodded. “We had a rough patch recently, but we’re getting past it.”
“Good to know you can forgive.” She slid her hands up his sweaty chest to his shoulders and ran her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. “Gives me hope. I really don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”
She slid one arm behind his neck and pulled his head down.
Tate resisted until she said, “Just one kiss goodbye. I have to get going.”
As soon as her lips pillowed beneath his, Tate moaned. Olivia opened. Her tongue reached for his, circling, circling…
And Tate was fucking gone.
He lost all reason, all logic. Lost all will power, all resistance. He wrapped his arms around her, one low on her hips, the other high on her shoulders, using his hand to keep her head right where he wanted it. Positioning her mouth right where he needed it. And Olivia responded exactly like he remembered, like liquid fire. They flowed into a rhythm that amped the heat between them in seconds. Enough heat to melt the rink beneath his skates.
In sixty seconds Tate was spiraling. Fast.
He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against her temple. “How do you fuckin’ do this to me?”
“It’s not me,” she said. “It’s us.” She pulled back, framed his face with both hands and he had no doubt that the emotion he saw in her eyes was real. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry I’m not more…traditional or American or whatever.” She shrugged. “This is me. I love sex. I happen to really, really love sex with you. More than I’ve loved sex in a long time. And I know we have a limited opportunity. That makes me hungry.” She rocked her hips against his and instead of starting a slow simmer, the movement shot fire through his cock. “Feels like it might make you hungry too.”