Dare to Touch (Dare to Love 3)

She blushed at his compliment. “I just want him to succeed at more than football.”

He settled a hip against her desk. “This is so much more than a job for you, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “I grew up wanting to be like Ian and, later, Alex, after I met him. Not as in I wanted to play, but I wanted to be a part of the sport. Honestly, when I was younger, I think learning the game and tagging along after my older brother gave me something to focus on when my dad was away traveling.”

He nodded, listening, wanting to hear more.

“And then when I found out about Dad’s other family … football was something that had nothing to do with him.” She turned away, obviously embarrassed at the admission.

But he was grateful for the reveal and the insight into what made her tick.

“What about you? What made you get into the sport?” she asked before he’d even formulated a reply to her story.

He swallowed a groan. He should have realized she’d want to know something deep about him.

He cleared his throat. “I guess you could say football was a good distraction for me too. Kept me out of the house and gave me a goal and potential security for the future.” And that’s all he wanted to get into at the moment. “Now, you canceled our lunch today. How about you make it up to me?”

She wrinkled her nose, giving her an adorably kissable look. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

What he wanted and what he would get were two different things. He wanted to slide between her silken thighs and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. But that was his cock talking. His brain, what little gray matter worked, understood patience was his friend.

“Join me for dinner tonight.”

She propped her chin on one elbow, meeting his gaze. “You know, you’re getting awfully bossy.”

He grinned. “And does that turn you on?”

Her breath hitched at the question. He didn’t need a better invitation. He strode behind her desk and swung her chair around to face him, then leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms of her seat. Beautiful deep blue eyes stared up at him.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

Everything, he thought. “A chance,” he said instead.

She parted her lips, and he had no trouble taking advantage of the opportunity, covering her mouth with his. She stiffened in surprise, but when he nipped at her lower lip, she parted instantly, a soft moan bubbling up from her throat. The sound went straight to his already aching, ready cock.

He glided his tongue over the spot he’d tasted, soothing her before delving deeper, tasting all of her. And she was right there with him, her soft tongue tangling with his. Back and forth, he glided around the wet recesses of her mouth, groaning his approval each time she met him with equal fervor. And though he wanted nothing more than to take this to its inevitable conclusion, she deserved a slow seduction. But, Jesus, the things this woman could do to him with no thought or effort.

He breathed in her floral scent and continued kissing her for all he was worth before finally lifting his head. “So? Dinner?”

She blinked at him, her soft gaze refocusing as awareness returned. She shook her head and wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste. “You smell different.”

“What?” he asked, offended and confused.

Olivia pushed at his shoulders, needing space.

“What the hell?”

* * *

Olivia breathed in deep and narrowed her gaze, seriously annoyed with herself for letting one little nip of her lips suck her in and make her forget the change she’d noticed the minute Dylan had come close.

“You smell like another woman’s perfume. I realized it the second you kissed me. Then you overwhelmed me with that kiss … but what the hell, Dylan?”

He muttered a curse. “It’s not what it looks like.” Dylan, obviously upset, met her gaze. “I went to see an ex-girlfriend. We’re friends.”

Yeah, Olivia thought. She’d heard all that before. Like when she’d questioned how much time Jeff, her college boyfriend, had spent with his teaching assistant. We’re friends. And when she’d caught them huddled together… It’s not what it seems. And when she’d gone to tell him that she was pregnant, he’d been with said assistant, legs tangled, clothes off… They obviously hadn’t been doing homework. She’d learned to ask questions much earlier and to look further than what she wanted to believe.

Olivia blew out a long breath. Listen and don’t jump to conclusions, she warned herself, but even years later, it was hard.