Chapter 6
SIX
OLIVER
I wasn’t sure he’d heard me return. He was leaning forward, soaking in the warmth of the fireplace when he said it, but I was the only other person in the room.
Hell, I was the only other person in the house.
He had to be talking to me, right? I hadn’t dreamed it, had I?
Had the shot of vodka led me to hear exactly what I wanted to hear?
Because my angry snow monster had melted away and left this soft, sweet man who wanted to be happy for his sister, even when he wasn’t happy for himself.
I’d wanted to reach out and touch him so many times, to ease his furrowed brow, or to explore his peeking happy trail.
Staring at the fire, I remembered him just hours earlier, naked and rose blushed and growly.
We were silent. Of course, we were silent, I hadn’t yet responded. How could I? I mean, he couldn’t be propositioning me, could he? Had I even told him I was gay?
I balanced on the balls of my feet to see more of him. Maybe he was on his phone? Maybe I would be interrupting him and the person he dreamed about when he thought of romance, with my offer of vanilla vodka shots by the firelight?
His palm met his face, and he popped what had to be one of those silly candy hearts into his mouth. No phone in sight.
He had to have been talking to me. I didn’t really think much beyond that before the words were out of my mouth.
“Oh, um … okay?”
He jumped out of his seat so fast. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
Wait, what? I thought. Who had he been talking to, then?
As I thought it, he said, “Wait, what?”
What had I done?
“Oh my God,” I said out loud. “I’m so … Just ignore me. I think … I mean, I’m sorry.” I had to find my way out of the situation.
“I must have misheard you. Any chance you were asking for more vodka?” I set down the two glasses, pouring both without waiting for an answer. “I know I could use one.”
We were facing each other, with the chair between us, and I could picture it, the two of us embracing, me up on my toes to kiss him, to run my fingers through his hair, to …
What was I thinking? I downed my shot while the man that I’d originally thought was an angry beast worked hard to keep from laughing. The mirth on his face was delightful to see even as my heart pounded in embarrassment.
With slow, deliberate moves, he leaned over the table from his side. He poured me a second shot, then held his up, waiting for me. We slung them back together.
“I was reading the little messages on the candy,” he explained, pointing to the dish.
“What? No, that’s impossible. They’re Valentine’s Day candy, like the kind we used to give each other in elementary school. It didn’t say … that, did it?”
“You did that too? I hated writing out all those little jokey cards. And then all the boys would talk about which girl they wanted to be their Valentine, and I couldn’t relate to that at all …”
He smiled fondly at the memory, but I was still stuck on one of my candy hearts having the phrase “fuck me” on it. I traded my empty shot glass for the candy dish and picked up a random purple candy. “Lick me,” I read, and I’m not sure whose eyes went wider, his or mine.
“Oh. My. God. Gran!” I exclaimed, and he was understandably confused. “I just grabbed these from storage. In a big box labeled ‘February.’ It had some decorations in it and a few boxes and bags of candy that hadn’t expired. Oh my God! What if there were kids here?
“What I mean to say is”—I took a deep breath—“I’m very sorry if I offended you. If they offend you. I can …” I started to turn to leave the room, candy dish in hand, and he was in front of me so quickly that I hadn’t even taken a step forward.
“Do I look offended?” His growly voice had returned.
“I … um …” He was so close, those blue eyes dancing.
Was that the fire, or mirth, or something else?
I reached out my hand to put the offending dish back down, knocking into the vodka bottle along the way.
I was so thrown that instead of reaching for it, I just watched it teeter.
In the end it righted itself, which was more than I could say about my equilibrium.
I was flustered and embarrassed and standing way too close to a professed romantic. Or was he an angry beast?
Was the whole room wobbling?
I took a step back, reaching a hand behind me to use the chair for balance. I might have gulped.
“You said ‘okay,’” he said softly.
He was standing close enough that I could feel his heat. My body, which had been chilly in a house I couldn’t get warm enough, was suddenly on fire.
“That was inappropriate,” I assured him. He took a small step closer.
“A misunderstanding,” I tried. We were face-to-face.
“A mistake?” I declared, but instead of coming out emphatically, it came out as a question.
He leaned in, and I thought … but, no, he leaned past me and reached into the bowl.
“Let’s let St. Valentine decide. Pick a fortune candy.” He took my hand and enclosed three of the hearts in it. Then he gently held his hand over my eyes. I instinctively closed them.
“Pick one.”
I nodded against him and dropped two of the candies into my other hand, blindly holding the winner out to him.
He removed his hand from my eyes, and we both looked down. He flipped the candy so we could read it.
“Take me.” My hand snapped around the confection as he said it.
Take me. Had fate decided? Could I trust fate to decide?
I found those impossible pools of blue, which had been patiently waiting for me to stop staring at my closed fist.
The longer I stared at him, the more I could see the heat burning in his eyes. It was nothing like the anger that had burned there when he’d first arrived. My knuckles turned white over the fateful message in my hand.
“I? … You? …Me?” I articulately began.
He nodded slowly. “If you wish.” As soon as that last word was out, I pounced, wrapping my arms and my legs around him. He caught me without faltering, which was a good thing because my hungry lips were on him just as soon as I was sure of our balance.
He’d given the green light with that fucking simple statement, If you wish, so I didn’t hesitate to dive right in, my fingers riding up his neck to tangle in his flyaway hair, my tongue, needy and desperate, seeking his, the taste of chocolate and vanilla mixing as I rose and dropped, his strong hands cupping my ass and holding me to him.
I could smell the vanilla on him and that smokey scent that comes from sitting by a fire, but underneath that, he was all outdoors: crisp air, moist dirt, and freshly mown grass combining with the liquor and smoke.
The mixture was intoxicating and made me want to get closer.
I tightened my arms and legs while my tongue tangled with his, hot and slick.
My dick was rock hard, and there was no hiding it as it pressed against his abs, leaking through my thin pajamas and onto his hoodie.
One more tight hug, and my cock was trapped between us, but the move had him stumbling, one big, warm hand leaving my ass as he grasped the chair behind him.
We kissed like we’d expire if we stopped. When he pulled back to look around and get his bearings, I whimpered before I could stop myself.
He smiled this beautiful, mischievous smile that highlighted the cleft in his chin and made dimples pop on both cheeks. Fucking dimples. How had I ever thought this man was an angry crank?
He was intoxicating and warm and holding me like he never wanted to let me go.
I chased his lips, wondering if they’d taste different with those dimples framing them.
He let me find them, and it wasn’t the taste that changed but the sensation.
My body tingled from head to toe, my cock aching where it wasn’t getting nearly enough friction between us.
He pulled us apart again, and another sound emitted from my throat as I chased him, and he leaned back.
“You said there are more blankets somewhere?”
“In the chest.” I pointed.
He carried me back to my chair and set me down gently.
His eyes raked over my body, surely not missing the state of my pants.
He sighed and shook his head. Then he leaned in for another scorching kiss.
I opened my legs wide for him to fit between them, but he backed up and ran the few steps to the bay window and the chest sitting on the floor below it.
“It’s calming down out there,” he said, returning with his arms full. He dropped two blankets on the carpet between me and the fireplace before he turned and ran again to grab the long throw pillow from the love seat.
He looked at me then, this man that I had thought could erupt in anger at any moment, and he was shy as he asked, “Is this okay?” while gesturing down to the floor.
Holy fuck. I’d never imagined something as romantic as lying down in front of a fire with a beautiful man. No matter that this one was a virtual stranger, I was drawn to him in ways I could not articulate and turned on in a fashion I didn’t know existed before that night.
Granted, I hadn’t had much experience as busy as I’d been since moving to the beach full-time, but I wasn’t a blushing virgin either.
I stood up and crowded him in, dovetailing our legs and making sure both of our members were encased in pressure. I nodded as I reached up and grasped the zipper on his borrowed hoodie.
“Is this okay?” I countered, not waiting for a reply before beginning to pull it down.