"Oh, yeah?" I ask him in a husky voice, my body tightening with anticipation. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking we need to pay homage to your Irish roots," he murmurs as he leans in closer, his lips hovering just above mine.

"They've been feeling neglected as of late," I agree softly, swiping my tongue over my lower lip, which is already tingling in anticipation.

Garrett presses his mouth against mine and I open up to him slowly. He tastes like cinnamon and mint, and I don't hesitate one second, pushing my tongue into his mouth to take a swipe against his. My hands immediately come up to wrap around his neck, and with a slight rumble in his chest, his arms come around my waist to pull me in closer to his body. He kisses me deeply...erotically, and the blood starts pounding in my head. Our tongues move against each other and I have to fight for control of my body not to press all the way in against him. Our heads naturally angle in opposition to allow more contact...more penetration.

Mouth, lips, teeth, and tongue. My hands gripping his hair, his fingers digging into my waist. Oh, my God, what a kiss, and suddenly I want to drag him into my bedroom and demand he continue. At the moment, all of Stevie's preachings today seem like a damn good idea.

Regretfully, Garrett pulls his mouth away with a sigh, but not before taking a swift bite at my lower lip. He grabs it with his teeth, gives a soft moan that hums along my moistened skin, and then lets it go. Pleasurable pinpricks caress over the area his teeth were just embedded in, and I reluctantly let go of his hair.

Taking a step back from me, Garrett's face is flushed and his eyes are hot, and I'm betting a mirror would reflect that I look the same.

"That was...um..." I start to say, then my words fail me. Because I don't know how I could ever just describe that kiss. I'd never felt anything like it before. Damn sure never started a date off like that before.

"Yes, it was," he agrees with a smile. "Looking forward to doing that again."

I don't know what possesses me to do it. Maybe it's the frailty of my life or the fact that Stevie is a terrible influence on me, but I blurt out, "Or maybe more."

Garrett's eyes go from hot to blistering in a nanosecond. He stares at me for a moment, then steps in closer. My heart feels like it might explode when he says, "I'll give you whatever you want, Olivia. All you have to do is ask me."

So now the question remains...will I ask him to give me just a kiss at the end of the date, or will I ask him to stay all night?

Chapter 5

Garrett

It's a continual struggle.

And fuck...I've never struggled like this before.

Struggled to keep my cock deflated and my hands to myself.

All night I've been warring with myself...sternly telling my body to get itself under fucking control.

Practically impossible when I've been in the company of what I'm now coming to realize is the sexiest woman I've ever been around in my life. Clearly, I'm attracted to her physically. I got that loud and clear from the moment I laid eyes on her at the party. My first thoughts were--because, hey, I'm a dude--that I wanted to fuck her all night long.

Now I'm thinking a bit differently, and I'm thinking one night might not be enough. I've never even tasted more than her strawberry lip gloss when we kissed, but something is telling me that once isn't going to be enough.

Not with a woman like this.

Not with a woman that laughed so hard she was wheezing during the comedy show we went to, and even snorted once so loud the comedian called her out on it. She just doubled over and started laughing so hysterically, I was afraid she'd wet her pants.

Not with a woman that pulled out a five-dollar bill and tucked it into the weathered hand of a homeless man we passed on the street as we left the comedy club.

Not with a woman that then gently tucked her arm through mine as we walked through downtown Raleigh, in search of a quiet bar that we could get a drink in.

And certainly not with a woman that sits across from me now as we sip at our beers, listening thoughtfully to every word I say, providing insightful and sometimes witty commentary, and laughs so sweetly I think she may be coated in sugar and dipped in honey.

Yup...it's been a struggle all night not to drag her into my arms and see if I can reproduce that amazing kiss we had at the start of the date. Part of me wants to end the evening now, just so I can get her back to her apartment for a good-night kiss. But the vast majority of me doesn't want this evening to end. I want to sit here with her in this bar and continue to talk until the sun comes up, because for the first time in my life, I'm actually enjoying the company of my date.

It's a long shot that I'll end up in her bed, and frankly, that's not my goal at this point. It's a fervent wish...but not a goal. Rather, the major event that's probably going to happen is that I'm going to leave her standing inside her apartment door, probably after a bone-melting kiss, and then I'm going to ask her out again.

Yes, that is a major, major event because Mr. One-Night Stand is going in for the request for a second date. And I'm nervous as shit, because I don't know if what I've shown her tonight would warrant her wanting to see me again. I'm used to treating a woman to a nice meal and then finishing off the evening with an orgasm or two. I might even stay the night for a little cuddling, a bit of pillow talk, and maybe even another orgasm. But then I'm gone and she's forgotten. I have no illusions...I'm sure I'm forgotten as well, because women want more than I can give, and when I leave them far behind, I'm sure they are out on the hunt again for the guy who can give them what they truly need.

Olivia turns her delicate wrist and peers down at her watch. "It's getting kind of late. I think we should probably call it a night."

No, I want to scream at her, but I smile and give her a nod. "Yeah...I have an early practice tomorrow, then a team workout."

Olivia stands from her chair and I mimic her actions. She picks up her purse and slings it over her shoulder. "So, do you practice every day?"

I reach out and take her hand, warming inside with the way she easily twines her fingers among mine. "Yeah, this week and next, along with a few scrimmages. Then we'll have a few preseason games before the regular season starts."

"Are you getting excited?" she asks as I lead her through the bar and out the door.

"God, yes," I say with a smile. "I hate the summers off. Can't wait to get back into the thick of the competition. It's like a drug for me."

"I love the passion in your voice when you talk about hockey," she muses as we walk down the block toward the parking garage. "You can tell how special it is to you."

Her words touch me profoundly...the acknowledgment she gives to my love of the game. Most people think professional athletes are all about the money, and I'm not going to lie...the money is damned good and has provided for me and my family in a way that no other career could have. But that's not why I do what I do. I do it for the win, for the thrill, for the fans, and for my teammates. There is no greater high--not even the most explosive of orgasms could ever compare to that feeling I get when my team wins a game.

Nothing better in the world.

"So what are you passionate about?" I ask her as we enter the parking garage and opt to take the stairs to the third floor. I slow my long-legged pace a bit, because Olivia seems to be lagging behind.

"Well, I love my job. So not what I thought I'd be doing when I got out of college. And I'm passionate about my friends. It's a small circle, but I'd be nothing without them. And I'm passionate about my mother. We're really close, but she lives out in Oregon and I don't get to see her as much as I want to."

"What about your dad?" I ask her as we reach the second flight of stairs.

"No clue where he is. He's sort of a free spirit...wanders around the country. He and my mom split up several years ago."

"But didn't get divorced?"

Olivia snickers. "Um...only because they're not married. Neither of them believes in marriage. They're both sort of like immatu

re hippies, believing in free love and lots of pot."

"You're kidding?" I ask in astonishment. My parents have been happily married for almost thirty years, and while I am totally enjoying my playboy ways, I think deep down I've always respected the sanctity of marriage. Not sure if I'll ever get sanctified myself, but it's an honest prospect.

Olivia laughs, and then stops for a moment in our ascent to take a deep breath. "Not kidding, and my mom's a hoot. She wears these flowing caftan dresses and braids fresh flowers in her hair. She listens to the Mamas and the Papas all day and talks dreamily about free love."

Chuckling, I point out, "But your mom's not even from that generation. She's young enough that maybe she should be listening to Depeche Mode while wearing shoulder pads and leg warmers."

"You're preaching to the choir," Olivia says after taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"You seem a little out of breath," I tease her. "Maybe we should have taken the elevator."

She punches me on the arm, not all that lightly, and says, "Not all of us can be world-class athletes. But I'm good."

She takes a step toward the next flight of stairs, but I lean down and sweep her up into my arms. She lets out a strangled yelp, but I'm immensely pleased when her arms raise up to wrap around my neck.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett Cold Fury Hockey Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net