Chapter 9
Olivia heard the crashing and the noise, someone screaming, “Help! Please help.”
When it all finally registered, Sloan had already reached the man who was struggling to breathe, gasping for air. Sloan got behind the man and hauled him to his feet. He kicked the chair aside so that he could grip the man around his middle, clasping his hands in the right way beneath the man’s diaphragm to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Olivia understood exactly what Sloan was doing and stood by several people who were apparently in the company of the sufferer.
“It’s all right,” Olivia soothed a distraught older and younger woman, both in tears of helplessness. “He knows what he’s doing. Go find a manager or staff. Call 911,” she instructed them as a distraction.
When she turned back to Sloan, it was to find him giving three abrupt and forceful upward thrusts under the man’s diaphragm. On the fourth attempt, something shot out of the man’s mouth, almost three feet in front of him. Sloan immediately loosened his grip but held on to the man while offering quiet encouragement. Sloan recovered the chair and placed it so that the man could sit down. He did, heavily, trying to regain composure. And then, he abruptly collapsed, falling right to the floor landing heavily on his side. Instinctively Sloan dropped to a knee to place his hand beneath the man’s head to prevent it from forcibly hitting the tile floor.
Staff appeared, one informing Sloan that 911 had been called.
Olivia suddenly moved, hurrying to Sloan’s side. “Take off your jacket,” she ordered. He didn’t hesitate but awkwardly shrugged out of the linen sports jacket. She pulled it away. She also caught a glimpse of his gun, holstered at his ankle as he’d said, but she doubted that anyone else had noticed.
He was already checking for a pulse, breathing, other indicators. The man was sweating, his skin sallow and pasty.
The bride and groom, their parents, and the rest of the wedding party rushed in to crowd around the scene. The bride was distraught, of course, but everyone else stood as observers on the unfolding crisis.
“He’s got a weak pulse,” Sloan said.
“Yes, but he’s sweating,” Olivia observed. “ I think he’s having—”
“Right. A heart attack.”
“Is he unconscious?” Olivia knelt opposite Sloan, the prostrate man between them. He didn’t acknowledge her presence. Two managers stepped in and quickly cleared the curious onlookers out of the room, signaling to staff to close all doors She made another observation. The fallen man was beginning to turn blue. “Sloan…” Olivia murmured urgently, catching his gaze.
Sloan again went into action. He carefully rolled the man on his back and pulled open his shirt, disregarding buttons popping and flying all over. He tilted the fallen man’s head back until his mouth was facing the ceiling. Sloan went to work using the interlocking fingers of his hands to pump against the man’s chest, hard. Olivia dropped to his side, counting quietly under her breath, holding the man’s wrist and checking for any pulse, now. When she got to a certain number, Sloan switched off compressing the man’s chest to breathe into his mouth, making sure the head was tilted at the right angle to force air into the lungs. They kept repeating the routine until the arrival of an EMS team, who rushed in to take over. It was less than ten minutes, but Olivia’s own heartbeat, her adrenaline coursing through her body, was elevated. It felt like a much longer time. She stood up, grabbed Sloan’s coat from the floor nearby, and stood back out of the way.
Standing behind the EMTs, Sloan quietly and in detail outlined everything that had happened, that he’d witnessed or taken part in, to the emergency workers. Olivia noticed that the back of his shirt and part of the front were damp with perspiration. The EMTs worked to stabilize the man, placing an oxygen mask on his face, and then quickly preparing him for transport to a hospital.
Olivia, feeling suddenly a little shaky in her knees, found a chair and sat down, composing herself. Sloan had done all the hard work, had gone swiftly into action without missing a beat. She knew what to do, but she was slower. Having to think and react she now found had taken a bit of a toll on her. But she sat and watched as Sloan, even after the very tense situation he’d found himself in, talked with calm professional knowledge to the EMS workers. He answered questions. He continued to assist where and when he saw he was needed. He once sent her a long, considering look, as if checking to make sure she was okay. To let her know he knew exactly where she was all the time. Olivia returned the scrutiny in the way she knew best. Sloan turned back to being solicitous, and she relaxed to wait for him.
Olivia suddenly remembered the day in the basement of her great-aunt’s house, with Sloan arriving and finding her…and rescuing her. There was no other way to put it, and she now also remembered the accusation she’d thrown at him. But it wasn’t at him. Olivia recognized that she’d probably suffered a flashback to the way Marcus used to treat her…like, after the accident. As if she were helpless, overly dependent, careless.
She had just demonstrated that she was none of those things. And Sloan’s actions and responses had shown her even more. He was not a certified, highly praised, and admired doctor, but he was very present, very calm, and helpful in an emergency.
Sloan finally turned to her. Olivia stood as he walked toward her, with that steady and thoughtful way his gaze fastened onto her. And she could tell by the bright gleam in his crystal-blue eyes that he was also coming down from the adrenaline high of, possibly, just having saved someone’s life. He stopped in front of her, reached for his jacket. Olivia held on and didn’t let go. On a sigh, Sloan gave in.
A quick, silent exchanged glance and it was agreed—they were definitely ready to leave. Together they made their way to the exit. They were halfway to the parking lot when there was a shout behind them. Olivia gasped. Not again…
But it was just the bride, rushing after her to envelop Olivia in another affectionate embrace. And the groom’s father followed behind, his hand already outstretched to Sloan.
“Can’t thank you enough, Sloan. You were terrific.”
“Everything okay?” Sloan inquired.
Olivia suddenly heard the controlled but clear exhaustion in his voice. It was flat and formal. He’d been through a lot as well.
“Yeah, yeah. Bert’s a big eater and he doesn’t know how to slow down. I think maybe he gets it now.”
“Glad it worked out the way it did.”
“See, I told my son—you can always be counted on. That’s why I liked working with you.”
Sloan was gracious but self-effacing. “Glad I could help.”
“We’ll stay in touch,” the man said, taking his new daughter-in-law’s arm to walk them back to the reception hall.
Sloan led the way to his car, a three-year-old Jeep Cherokee in cobalt blue. He held the door until she climbed into the passenger seat. Olivia sank into the thick comfort of the leather seat. Once Sloan was seated beside her, he sat staring out the window, his hands flat on his thighs. He said nothing, but Olivia became aware of a certain rise of tension in the enclosed space. She felt her heartbeat increase with a kind of anticipation. But…of what?
And then, Sloan smoothly turned to her, placing his left hand on her waist…like when they were dancing at the reception. His right arm was placed behind her shoulders, urging her toward him, and Olivia automatically let her eyes drift close, her mouth open for his lips to settle on hers. Sloan kissed her in the manner, she instantly recognized, she’d wanted him to for a while. She gave in completely to his urgency and let it awaken fully what she’d been holding back. Olivia let her hand wander up to find the hard line of his jaw, feel the movement under her exploring fingers, glide across his cheek, behind his ear, to pull him closer.
She could feel a hand gently kneading her shoulder, the other squeezing her waist as Sloan got them as close as possible in the confines of the car and awkward set of the seats. She let herself go with the force of his kiss, as he consumed her, possessed her, nevertheless with tenderness and erotic thoroughness, as if he wanted to absorb her into himself. It was heady and heated and delicious, and Olivia was suddenly no longer afraid to acknowledge that she wanted this…with Sloan.
In the car, almost in one another’s arms, they had raised the arousal level to a fever pitch, and they either had to stop or do something about it.
Sloan very slowly stopped, pulling sweet little kisses from her mouth, teasing with his tongue. She could hear his breathing. Maybe he could feel hers, her breasts in her floral dress pressed against his chest. Their lips separated, and they sat staring into each other’s eyes. Olivia watched as Sloan’s jaw clenched and he sat trying to make a decision. She again placed her hand on his face, caressing and feeling the movement of his jaw beneath her fingers. Belatedly noticing the contrast of her skin against his.
She smiled faintly at him, her eyes bright with feeling. Sloan sighed and released her, facing forward, and abruptly turned over the engine.
“I’ll take you home,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion.
Olivia got out of his car right away, not waiting for Sloan to say anything or to come around the front of the vehicle and open the passenger door. She was nervous and a little uncertain about what she was doing or what she wanted. Olivia was moving on instinct, trying not to overthink motivations—only breathlessly believing she wanted to have something different happen now with her and Sloan. Her breathing and heartbeat increased. Not with anxiety. It was all anticipation.
She was already at her door, unlocking it, pushing it in. Then Olivia turned to face Sloan, watching as he slowly followed her, stopping just a few feet away. She stayed focused on his face, his features and expression, trying to see into his habit of being unreadable. Sloan reached for his jacket again. She still held it, thrown across her arm. Again, Olivia held fast, not releasing it.
“That is my jacket,” he said.
“I know,” she said, glad at his detectable humor.
“It’s been a long day.”
“You were really…really great…what you did.”
He briefly averted his gaze to the ground, put his hands into his pockets. “It’s just a lot of training. I’ve had to use it a few times.” He glanced at her. “I’m glad you were there,” Sloan said.
She searched his face. “Me too.”
He blinked, his blue eyes narrowed just a bit. “We…worked well together.”
“I’m not certified or anything,” Olivia demurred.
“But you knew what to do. You’ve been holding out on me, Ms. Cameron.”
She gave him a slight smile and nodded. Olivia never took her gaze from him, finally seeing a change. “Are… Are you all right?”
He nodded, exhaled deeply. “I will be. I’m a little…wound up at the moment. I just need…”
She stepped back pushing her door farther in. “Come in.”
Sloan appeared taken aback by her quiet command. “I…” That was as far as he got.
Olivia disappeared inside, leaving the door open. He felt foolish standing there staring at the empty doorway. He entered, closing the door behind him. Sloan was immediately thrown back to that evening he’d brought her here after what had happened in the house. He’d sent her off to shower, get into fresh clothes. He’d wandered into her kitchen to get her a glass of cold water. Now…
Olivia was waiting for him in the living room. She’d put her clutch and his jacket on the sofa. She stood looking at him, wide-eyed but oddly confident.
“Can I get anything for you?”
Sloan finally seemed to gather his senses, figured out everything. He took a few steps toward Olivia, and she held her ground, returning his scrutiny, the question in his gaze.
“That’s a loaded question. Liv…listen. There is nothing I want more than to stay with you tonight.”
She didn’t respond, but she let the sudden gravelly texture of his voice rush over her, creating a longing that was not really a surprise.
“I think there’s too much against that happening,” Sloan added.
“How do you know I don’t know what you want?”
“I think I have a couple of strikes against me, the two of us…getting together. I think…”
“What strikes?”
He still carefully studied her expression. “For one thing, my law enforcement background. Maybe even my military service. Do you think I’m robotic and uncaring? Are you getting me confused with the cops you see on the news?”
There was a change of emotion in her. That myth had been dispelled within the first twenty minutes of meeting Sloan.
“The other thing is me being white,” he ended quietly.
“You know, you could say the same about me. There’s never going to be any getting around the fact of what I am. It’s not like either of us had a choice at birth. But you’re wrong,” Olivia whispered. “On both counts. I did test you a little bit when we first met. It was spontaneous, but I wouldn’t have bothered if…if I didn’t…wasn’t a little bit interested. Curious.”
“Right,” he agreed.
“It scared me. And then it didn’t,” Olivia confessed. She slowly began walking toward him. She didn’t have far to go. Two small steps and she stood right in front of Sloan. And she was acutely aware of his physical presence, the masculine solidity of him. “What’s the worst thing that can happen if…?”
His brows furrowed. He shook his head. “I can’t think of any worst.”
“Good. Right now, I can’t either. I’ve done enough what if and suppose and I can’t and not giving myself enough of a chance to say yes…why not?”
“So you’re saying…” He stopped, waiting for her to finish.
“I do like you, Sloan. Two strikes and all,” Olivia said on a whisper, her voice catching on the last few words.
Olivia couldn’t believe she’d gotten it out. Said. Admitted. Her heart was beating fast.
Could Sloan hear it?
But there was no possibility of misinterpreting her meaning. The corner of his mouth lifted, but she still didn’t think it was a smile. He reached for her and Olivia walked right into his arms. Their lips met, fused, sought possession of one another. She slipped her arms beneath his and hugged his back. Sloan squeezed her to his torso, hips, his thighs. The kiss was deep and passionate, them surrendering to feelings kept under control and now set free as an honest expression of their regard. It was dizzying and exquisite.
Sloan could have lived there for a while longer but for one more consideration. He broke the kiss but let his mouth nibble its way to her ear. He pulled back, but his arms circling her kept Olivia melded to him at their hips. The position was provocative…and promising. He was already highly aroused, and the physical evidence was obvious.
He shook his head. “I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, Olivia, but…I had no idea we… I’m not prepared.”
Olivia blinked, quickly understanding. “I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing down a hallway.
Sloan used her absence to cover his face and breathe into his hands to gain control. He was beyond stunned at the turn of events. He brushed his hands back over his head, down to his neck, squeezing the nape. He was thinking what he could do to not squander this opportunity, this…gift. He was much more wound up than he’d imagined. Cortisol was having a field day in his brain. He exhaled and heard Olivia returning. She held a small box in her hand. Silently she handed it to him. Casting a curious glance at her, Sloan opened the box to find a handful of individually wrapped condoms with colored cellophane. He quickly raised his gaze to meet hers.
“They’re left over from an assembly program I arranged in school a year ago. After Taryn had Gaye, I thought it was a good idea to have the talk. The kids weren’t going to get it at home. I got permission from the district and had parents sign a release and made it happen.”
Sloan used his finger to stir around the contents, feeling a little odd about getting the condoms from Olivia. He glanced at her again. His gaze was tired but warm with amusement. “Are these for me?”
“Us. I know what you’re thinking,” she said smoothly. “I just didn’t think it was a good idea to leave those in my office. It’s not a sacred place to the students.”
“So…you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Are you going to tell me you have not?”
“I have not, until right now. But I did have some pretty active daydreams,” he murmured, closing the box.
She gently placed her hands flat on his chest. “I knew what you’ve been thinking for a while. But I knew the first move would have to be from me.”
“Why?”
“Because I finally realized that you were being really careful, really…respectful. I really loved that. I’m ready to see what happens next. So. This is next.”
Sloan was stunned by her awareness, her confession. He looped his arms loosely around her again, the box in one hand. He looked sternly into her eyes. “Have you felt pressure from me?”
Olivia shook her head. “You’ve only made me feel…like…I really want it to be you.”
Sloan listened carefully, saw the bright light in her eyes…exactly as he’d seen the very first time they met, when he knew instinctively that something different and significant was happening.
“I am honored,” Sloan whispered with deep and heartfelt sincerity. Wrapping his arms tighter, he leaned in to kiss her, and she was waiting.
The kiss was a slow-moving exploration, with Sloan providing erotic movements of his mouth on hers and Olivia welcoming and accommodating him. It was passionate and stimulating…but it was not escalating to a level of heat that would leave them both mindless with need. By silent mutual consent, they ended the kiss, their breathing not yet hurried but rather calm and peaceful.
And Sloan didn’t want to rush. This moment was still evolving, and he wanted it to be natural. It was very much the kind of moment you have to just let happen and feel your way through. He spontaneously placed his hand along Olivia’s face, letting his thumb brush the soft flawless skin of her cheek. He could feel her form a slow smile, and it was just for him.
If Sloan had any doubts before, they were now vanishing into very real possibilities.
“Come on,” Olivia instructed simply, taking his hand and turning to lead the way down the hallway she had used moments earlier. They turned into a room. Her bedroom.
Sloan noticed that one wall was a sliding-glass door leading out to the backyard. But there were wall-to-wall sheer voile curtains providing a nice balance between transparency and privacy. There was a simple double bed that surprised Sloan, as he believed the world had bought into the idea of big beds. But he immediately recognized the level of intimacy possible with less room. Olivia’s was painted a cream color, with the wall behind it a deep tangerine. Daring and bright and a brilliant backdrop for the several framed items on the wall. Sloan made note but knew he would want to look more carefully at the work…but another time.
Then, without anything more being said between them, he put the box of condoms on the nightstand nearest him and began to unbutton his shirt, letting his gaze meet Olivia’s as he did so. For a moment she watched him before turning her back on him and reaching behind with her arms and hands, twisting in search of the zipper to her dress. It drooped from her shoulders, exposing her back down to her waist. She was not wearing a bra and held the dress to her chest as she stepped out of her shoes.
Sloan shrugged out of the pink shirt and, looking around, dropped it on top of a basket that was being used to hold magazines. He braced his feet, one against the other, to get out of his shoes, lifting one foot at a time to pull off his socks. He was watching Olivia to see how far her striptease would go, but there was a grace and elegance to the way she carefully revealed herself. She took the time to hang her dress in the closet, remove the headband that held her hair back from her face. Then Olivia turned to face him with nothing but black bikini panties on, her navel just above the edge. Her hair, let loose to fall free, almost reached her shoulders and curved gently along her face.
He stood staring, all of his impressions that Olivia was a beautiful woman in a purely unadorned way that was without pretense or play validated. He quickly removed his slacks and briefs. He made no attempt to disguise or hide his physical reactions to Olivia, and her expression, somewhat shy, seemed to indicate that she liked having this effect on him.
The last thing Sloan removed was his service weapon, strapped to his ankle. He placed his foot on the edge of the bed and unfastened the holster. Olivia reached across the bed, and Sloan gave the gun to her. She turned to the closet and placed the holstered weapon on the top shelf, stretching on tiptoe to set it back from the edge.
The entire process of disrobing was like a show-and-tell between them. You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. There was a bit of humor in the way they took their time peeling back protective public layers to bare themselves. Olivia pulled back the comforter, letting it fall to the floor at the foot of the bed. She slid under the top sheet and curled on her side watching and waiting for him. Sloan followed suit, and they at once pulled into each other’s arms. As if there was some sort of safety there in holding on to one another.
Sloan was again surprised to discover that, for all her clear willingness to be with him in this very intimate way, Olivia was trembling. It was not fear he got from her body signals but uncertainty. He held her, enjoyed being able to. Letting her rub against him and get used to his nakedness, his desire. She’d been married; she knew the routines. Sloan caressed a hand up and down her back, to her hip…her buttocks. Olivia flexed herself closer against him, but she was still trembling. She let him explore, but Sloan did not feel a need to make his touch sexual. To him it was enough that they were together, this close, where he felt relief and comfort and a rightness to where he was.
“It’s okay,” he finally voiced in a low whisper.
“I’ve thought so much about being with you, like this,” she responded, a little anxiety mixed with bravery.
“I’m really glad to hear that, Olivia. I’m guessing it’s…probably been a while.” He couldn’t think how to say it more gently than that.
Olivia didn’t confirm or deny but sighed and relaxed into his arms. “My girlfriends keep telling me it’s time…”
“Your time, not theirs. You have to trust when you know it’s right.”
“It’s right.”
“Now?”
“Because it’s you.” She quietly chuckled. “I…don’t know how it happened. I didn’t count on this.”
“Sorry? Want to change your mind?”
“No. And, no.”
Sloan breathed her name as he hugged her closer, kissing her forehead. There was no need for either to say any more. Sloan turned fully to face her. He clutched her waist and hauled her closer so that their hips were pressed together. He lifted his leg over hers, capturing Olivia. He flexed his pelvis against her. He was hard and ready but didn’t want to rush. As much as it was clear he and Olivia wanted each other, he sensed she had to be eased into this physical intimacy. Every part of Sloan began to fall into a lethargic state of feeling safe and…content. Just the realization alone was enough to release weeks of concern about how he was going to deal with Olivia. He’d known he was going to be a tough sell.
The only thing left to do now was to show Olivia that her trust, her interest and desires, had not been misplaced.
Sloan slowly caressed his hand down her back to her buttock and pressed her against his pelvis. He heard the quiet intake of her breath, her stomach muscles contracting as she experienced the hard evidence of his arousal. Her fingers had begun to explore and found the smooth taut layers of flesh that were the result of healed burns. She found a few more near his shoulder and near his throat and on his side, under his arm. She gently explored them. Sloan hooked his fingers into the band of her panties, pushing them down her thighs until she could maneuver them down her legs and off. On an upward sweep, his hand trailed over her pubis area, massaging gently until he felt Olivia undulate against his fingers. He daringly probed.
“Sloan…” Olivia whispered, imploring him. She let out a small whimper.
Sloan twisted into a reclining position on his back. He reached for the night table, fumbling until he found the cellophane-wrapped condoms Olivia had given him. He quickly sheathed himself and turned back to her, capturing Olivia in his arms.
“I have to ask you something,” she began, her voice muffled against his chest.
He wasn’t concerned, and he was somewhat distracted by the soft, stimulating roaming of her hand and fingers.
“Why me? You don’t have some weird fixation on Black women…do you?”
He snorted, smothering the need to laugh. “I’m told I might be weird in some ways, but that wouldn’t be one of them.”
She was silent.
Sloan sighed. “When I first saw you, I knew there was something special, different about you. I thought, you’re really lovely. But that wasn’t what grabbed my attention. I thought… I felt you were approachable. Your welcome came with a smile. I took it personally. And it shone through your eyes.”
“You saw all of that?” Olivia asked quietly.
“To me, none of it was hard to miss…and I wasn’t even looking. Of course it registered that you’re Black. But then…I just moved on. There were other things about you. But it was also how I was reacting.”
“Tell me,” she murmured.
Sloan sighed. “No. I don’t think I have to. Maybe it’s not going to make a lot of sense, but to me…I’d found you.”
He was also, now, ready to move on. He was ready to show Olivia the physical way he wanted her. But Sloan waited another few moments for her to ask more of him. But she didn’t. Instead he let their entwined limbs dictate what happened next. And it was time. When Olivia bent her knee, raising her leg, he took advantage of the movement that provided space for Sloan to finally penetrate. At the contact, Olivia held her breath, but her heart was beating fast against his. He flexed his hip, driving closer. Olivia sighed and moaned.
He gave her what she wanted. And what they both needed.
He heard her sharp intake of breath as she wrapped her arms around him and held on. He used his hands to guide her, to secure their intimate connection. To help them both with a rhythmic gyration of their pelvises. Sloan went back to kissing her as she hugged him, raised her knee to force him deeper, encouraging him to love her.
They fell into a slow cadence of movement, of experiencing each other’s pleasure…giving and receiving. When Olivia suddenly began to quietly pant, Sloan whispered something loving and encouraging in her ear, and she climaxed around him. The pulsing sensation sent him over the edge, and he held on to her, letting her breathing, her now-relaxing limbs guide him until the end.
They did not move for long minutes. To Sloan’s way of thinking, their making love, embracing each other…this intimacy…was as open and vulnerable as it was possible to be. He and Olivia had arrived at another beginning. It was a signal from her as well that they were on the same page. Had arrived at the feelings…intentions…to keep moving forward together.