Memories depicting all those words flooded into his head, pressure built in his lower body and his temperature spiked.
“The way you go all out. And even when you score, it’s not good enough. You turn around, grab another puck and go at it again. The way you push and demand. The way your total and complete focus made me feel like I was the only person on the planet. The only thing that mattered. The only woman you wanted. Or had ever wanted. Or would ever want.”
Her eyes fell closed and she tilted her head back with a long hum of desire that pumped directly into his cock. “Mmm, what a fucking rush. Rush after rush after rush.”
Tate’s blood had drained south. When she opened her eyes again and he saw the wicked light there, he knew what she would do next. Which was the moment he realized he’d drifted too close. But his brain was too slow, Olivia’s hands too quick. She reached out and snagged a handful of his Jersey, yanking him toward her with an evil little giggle.
“Oliv—”
His blade tips hit the wall, stopping him. But she already had her thighs open and she wrapped her legs around his, pinning him there. Tate caught her biceps and pushed away.
“If you’re goin’, I’m goin’,” she said, her voice husky and serious but her eyes sexy and playful. “So if I go down, you go down.” Her grin glinted with an extra spark. “And you know how I love to go down.”
Another memory rushed in, of Olivia on her knees, offering her warm, soft, wet mouth to fuck. Excitement kicked through his body, but Tate didn’t want to find her amusing or fun or flirty. Because that made him want her. Hell, who was he kidding, as long as he was alert and breathing he wanted her.
“Liv, I smell like a locker room.”
“No, you smell like sweat. You did plenty of that our first night together,” her voice dipped and her lids lowered, “and I like it.”
He exhaled slowly, purposely refocusing on why he shouldn’t stroke his hands down her arms. Why he shouldn’t wrap his arms around her waist. Why he shouldn’t press his lips against hers. Why he shouldn’t sink his tongue into her warm mouth and take a long, deep, slow taste of
her to quench what felt like an endless fast.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, as if she were reading his mind, her voice another silky reminder of that unforgettable night.
“I doubt it.”
“Really?” she asked softly. “Because I was thinking about stripping you out of these sticky clothes, stroking every inch of your amazing body under a hot stream of running water until you were squeaky clean, feeding you with your choice of delicacy until you were absolutely sated, and rocking you so hard you’d sleep for days. Isn’t that what you said you wanted to do right now?”
Just like that, Tate’s partial hard on turned to rock.
And Olivia knew it. She shimmied her pelvis against his, shooting sparks of lust between his legs. “I think that’s exactly what you want right now.”
It wasn’t just exactly what he wanted, it was the only thing he wanted. Tate heard Beckett’s words again. “Take the hits, get a few scars and get your ass back in the game.” The problem was that Tate couldn’t just change the way he thought about women and relationships overnight. And in truth, he didn’t really want to. He was proud of the way he treated women, which was probably why feeling like just another boy toy to Olivia hurt.
But that was his problem, not Olivia’s. And if he wanted to love Olivia while he could, he was going to have to find a way to get over it.
But Olivia seemed to finally read Tate’s silence for disinterest, because the flash in her pretty eyes vanished and her expression fell into a little pout. “But, unfortunately, unless we can do that in your locker room, it won’t happen tonight.”
He almost jumped at the bait. Almost. Before the “Why not?” fell from his lips, exposing his keen interest in executing her plans, he caught it and just lifted a brow instead.
“I have to prep for Lily’s party tomorrow. Mom and Quinn are picking up the food. I’m making and assembling the base of the cake tonight, prepping some of the food, then finishing everything tomorrow before her party while Mom and Quinn are decorating.”
Tate slid his arms around her waist and eased closer, frowning at the fact that Beckett hadn’t told Tate about this. “You’re catering Lily’s birthday party?”
She smiled, but it looked tired. “I am.”
“I didn’t know Eden and Beckett were having it catered.”
“Guess they asked after the engagement party.” She lifted a shoulder. “They’re key clients for Mom and Quinn. They tell me the Croft’s family are a potentially big referral base all through the District and Metro.”
Tate nodded. “The Croft’s do know a lot of people.”
“At least the work will have purpose then.”
“This hasn’t turned into much of a vacation for you.”
She skimmed her fingers through his sweaty hair and her smile returned, along with the light in her eyes. “I don’t know about that. My time with you feels like a vacation.” She tipped her head. “When you’re not mad at me.”