Chapter 22
NORA
It’s nearly midnight when I hear the knocking on my door.
I still have the lamp on my bedside table on. I haven’t been able to fall asleep, and I’ve been reading over the email that Beckett has already sent with new ideas for future games.
I’ve also scrolled social media and seen that it’s not just Alex’s buddies who are talking about the Revelers and the Rascals. Sports media has picked up on it, and while the conversation is hardly viral, there are rumblings of how interesting and fun things in southern Louisiana sound.
I grin. Earthquakes often start with rumblings.
I throw my covers back and head downstairs in my pajamas. Whoever it is is likely a very close friend or relative and has seen me in pajamas before.
But when I open the door, I realize that this person hasn’t.
He’s seen me half-naked in my office, though.
“I realized I don’t like the idea of other men eating your banana pudding.” He holds up the bowl that Teddy took home with him.
“You went over to Teddy’s and got it back?”
He nods. “And then I took it home and tried it.”
“Oh. And now you’re bringing it to me because I need to discard it? Since no one else can have it?”
He hands me the bowl. “I ate all of it. It’s fucking delicious. And I can’t fucking believe that you have made me like something with bananas that’s not a banana. But then I realized that, of course, you did. Because you’ve turned everything else upside down. Why not bananas?”
The bowl is indeed empty. I have no idea what to do with this information. “You seem upset.”
He crowds close, stepping me back into my house, then closing my door behind him and locking it. “Wildflower, I think upset is a pretty good way to describe how I have felt since I’ve met you.”
I open my mouth to respond to that because hey, but he puts a finger over my lips.
“But not upset in the angry way. Upset in the confused and befuddled and riled up and my world is all messed up way. And yeah, I don’t love that.
Because I haven’t had that in my life. Ever.
I pay people very good money to make my life the opposite of that.
But the minute I met you, there has been chaos and things swirling around me and my life going off the rails and nothing happening according to any kind of plan and…
” He drops his hand and blows out a breath.
“I have never wanted anyone more than I want you. All of you. All the time. I can’t get enough of you. ”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding, my entire body hot and tingling.
“Oh,” I say. Brilliantly. Then I take a breath and say, “Well, we'd better go upstairs then.”
He sags, almost as if in relief. He steps in close again, and I realize I’m backed up against the wall. He leans in, resting his forearm on the wall over my head, caging me in.
“There are two things that I am very good at,” he says.
“Two areas, I never have to question things. Two places I am fully and completely in control. Hockey. And fucking. And you have managed to twist and turn hockey so much that I barely recognize it. Which means there’s now only one thing that I know for sure I am really good at and where I can be totally in control.
And you’re going to let me be in control of this, aren’t you, Wildflower? ”
Well, what can I say here? Do I want this man to ravish me? Yes. Yes, I do.
“My bedroom is the second door on the right.”
Alex makes a low, growling noise that makes my pussy clench, then he bends and throws me over his shoulder and starts up the stairs.
Fuck, yes. More of this. All the time.
Am I going to be ruined in April? Yep. Do I care? Not one bit.
When we get to my room, he strides in without hesitation, kicks my door shut behind us, stops next to the bed, and lets me slide down his body.
He doesn’t give me a centimeter of space. He cups my face with both hands and lowers his mouth until it’s hovering just over mine and says, “I’m going to own you tonight.”
Then he gives me a very good idea of just what he means by that.
His tongue is possessive, tasting every inch of my mouth. His hand tightens at the back of my head, making it impossible for me to move away from his onslaught. As if I would.
I arch closer, my body needing to be closer to his.
One big hand drops to my ass and squeezes. I feel a lick of heat across my clit as my pussy clenches.
Oh, God. I’ve never been this hot and wound tight just from kissing.
All at once, he pulls his mouth away. I whimper. I want his mouth on me at all times. It doesn’t have to be just on my mouth, but I want that hot, knowing, greedy mouth on my body somewhere.
“There are three positions I must have you in,” he tells me as he reaches behind his head to grasp his shirt and tug it over his head. “Spread out under me, thighs as wide as they can go, hands and knees, and you on top taking me deep.”
His voice is a little gruff, maybe, but he says it like he’s telling me his top three choices from the movie selection on the TV.
On the other hand, hearing those words and the images they elicit make my entire body go hot and start throbbing.
The soft yellow light from my bedside lamp allows me to see the cocky grin he gives me when he says, “Then you can pick what you want.”
“That’s very agreeable of you,” I say.
Alex Olsen’s rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs are less than a foot away.
My eyes travel up from the trail of dark hair that disappears behind the waistband of his jeans. His chest is perfect. I want to bite his shoulders. I want to lick his throat. I want to sit on his face.
That’s the position I pick.
I lift my gaze to his.
He has one eyebrow up. “You have an idea?” he asks, reading me somehow.
I nod.
“Tell me.” It’s a command, not a question.
“I want to sit on your face,” I say bluntly.
“Jesus Christ, yes,” he practically growls. He grasps me by the waist and tosses me back onto the bed. He steps close to the mattress. “But I’m going to make you come at least once first so I can lap up all of that sweetness while you’re up there.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe out before I can stop it. Lust shudders through me.
He braces one hand on the mattress by my hip and runs his other hot hand up under my ass. “I intend to hear a lot more of that.”
I have no doubt he will.
He grasps the waistband of my shorts and panties underneath and tugs.
I lift my ass so he can pull both down my legs, reaching to help on the other side. Together, we strip me from the waist down.
He lifts them to his nose, inhaling deeply. “Flowers,” he says. He tosses them on the floor. “Fucking addictive.”
He stops, studying me for a moment. I can only imagine how I look. Nothing is exposed, yet. But my shirt is bunched just below the point of being scandalous. I’m sure my hair is a mess from his fingers. My cheeks are probably flushed.
“Fucking hell, Wildflower,” he says, stepping forward. “I could stay here for days.”
Yes, I want Alex Olsen in my bed for days. Only getting up for water and food occasionally. I don’t want him to get dressed. I don’t want him more than a room away. I don’t want either of us to talk to another human for at least forty-eight hours.
I almost gasp at all of those tumbling thoughts.
Who am I suddenly?
Not leave the house? Not talk to anyone else?
What would even happen to my family? My town?
I have never even spent hours, plural, on sex. Not ever.
But for Alex, I’d even consider calling in sick. I never call in sick. I’m a good girl. Highly responsible. The town sweetheart. The one who plans the farmer’s market, and street fairs, and the—
“Fuck, you’re pretty.”
Every other thought flies out of my head as Alex sinks to his knees at the foot of the bed.
He reaches up, slides his hands under my ass, and pulls me to the end of the mattress until I am right on the edge.
“Prettier than any flower,” he tells me, staring at my pussy.
He leans in and kisses my inner thigh. Then he drags his tongue from that spot to the outer edge of my pussy.
“Prettier than even the all-pink flowers.”
I feel like laughing. He’s comparing my pussy to flowers. And I swear if he calls my labia ‘petals’ I’m going to lose it—and maybe cringe—but I can’t laugh, or caution him, because he licks up one side, over the top, not quite touching my clit, then down the other.
I gasp, and everything in me clenches. I feel my stomach suck in, my thighs tense, and my pussy tighten around nothing.
“Addictive,” he murmurs, before moving his hands forward, his thumbs resting on either side of my pussy. Then he spreads me open.
I have never felt this exposed. I’ve never been this exposed. But I don’t feel vulnerable or embarrassed or awkward.
It’s absolutely Alex’s low growl and the, “Jesus Christ, so fucking perfect,” that helps with all of that.
I feel like I have the power here. He’s on his knees, he sounds like he’s a little overwhelmed. That’s ridiculous, of course, but he’s really doing this right.
You’re never going to stop thinking about him at this rate.
Yeah, and he’s only looking at me. Well, okay, there’s a little touching going on too, but seriously he hasn’t even—
He licks me before I can complete that thought.
“Alex!”
“More of that,” he says. “A lot fucking more of you calling out my name.” Then he licks again. A long, firm stroke of his tongue over my pussy, ending with a swirl at my clit.
He lifts his head and blows. The warm air hitting my most sensitive tissues makes me arch closer to his mouth, even as I tip my head back and close my eyes.
“Oh, God.”
He licks again, this time sucking on my clit slightly when he gets there.
My thighs shake slightly. He feels it because he slides his hands down to the backs of my thighs, spreading me wider, letting my thighs rest on the mattress.
He leans back, taking in the sight of me spread out.
“Fuck yes,” he says roughly. “I’m going to take you just like this first.”
My eyes widen. The guy doesn’t mince words.
“Okay,” I say softly.