Dare to Touch (12 page)

She rolled her eyes at that. “Come here.” She held out her arms.

He knew Olivia, knew how she guarded herself—her body and her heart. Their first time in her apartment had been a long time coming and explosive because of it. She took small steps with him, and mentions of her past sent her running. But she was trying now, and he understood that this gesture had meaning.

He joined their hands together, lifting her arms over her head. “I’m really glad you’re here now.” He kissed her nose. “With me. Like this.”

She sighed. “I can’t resist you when you’re sweet.”

“I can’t resist you at all.” He kissed her hard on the lips before releasing her hands and picking up the condom.

“Let me,” she said in a husky voice.

He blinked in surprise and handed her the packet. She opened it with little finesse and shaking hands. With no expertise behind her actions, she reached for his painfully hard erection and slid the rubber down his shaft. Her hand lingered too long at the base, her fingers cupping his balls.

“Enough,” he said roughly. “If you touch me again, I’m going to embarrass myself,” he said, needing to explain.

“I like that I can get you as hot as you get me.” She grasped his cock once more.

He groaned and took control, bracing his hands on either side of her, poised for entry, her hand still gripping him, harder now.

He slid the head over her clit, and she moaned loudly. He didn’t stop her this time.

“I can’t wait,” he said, teeth clenched.

“Then don’t.”

He pushed himself inside her, finding her hot and wet for him. Once assured she was ready, he thrust all the way home and stilled. “You feel so fucking good.”

He glided out, her hot pussy gripping him every step of the way. “Bend your knees.”

She did as he asked, and that gave him more room to move, allowed him to press deeper with each successive thrust.

“Oh God.” She whimpered and met him thrust for thrust. “Harder. I need you to fuck me harder.”

He loved when she let go of her inhibitions and fears, when she was just his. He had no problem giving her what she needed.

They sought their climax together; every slam of his hips was accompanied by her increasingly loud but muffled cries. He lost track of time and place, his entire being focused on the woman writhing beneath him. She sucked him into her body and cushioned him in heat until his orgasm loomed large. His spine tingled, his balls drew up tight, almost painfully as he thrust deep, and she shattered.

“Dylan!” She arched into him, and he managed to hold off his own climax while she rode out her own. Her sex ground against him until she took him along with her for the ride.

Chapter Seven

O
livia woke up in the big bed in the suite she shared with Dylan. She recalled their evening and how he’d carried her back to the room, ignoring the catcalls and whistles of people as they’d walked. Honestly, she’d been so exhausted she hadn’t cared.

She rolled onto her back to find his dark eyes watching her.

“Everything good?” he asked.

She didn’t blame him. She had a tendency to pull away, but she had no intention of doing so this morning. “I’m good.” She crawled closer. “Very, very good.”

She was sore in the best possible ways, a gorgeous man had gone out of his way to make her night special, and to make sure she’d come quite a few times… Yeah, she was more than good!

He smiled in obvious relief.

“So what’s on today’s agenda?” she asked.

“We have the day free. Breakfast?”

She nodded. They ended up sharing a shower, which delayed getting to breakfast, because Dylan’s definition of getting clean involved a whole lot of getting dirty first. With the hot water streaming over them and her arms braced against the wall, he still managed to snag a condom and to take her from behind, filling her up and giving her another experience she’d never forget.

By the time they walked through the lobby for breakfast, it was almost ten thirty a.m. On the way to the restaurant, she caught sight of Big sprinting across the open area toward the front door.

“Marcus!” Dylan called out.

The other man stopped at the sound of his name. He turned and caught her gaze, immediately looking away.

They strode up to him together.

“Where’s the fire?” Dylan asked him.

“Huh?”

Olivia bit her lip. “No, umm, what’s your rush?” she tried to explain. “Where are you off to?”

He glanced around nervously. “I’m just, uh, taking a walk.”

Dylan narrowed his gaze. “You don’t lie well, Marcus. What gives?”

“You’ll be mad and I’ll get in trouble.” For all his size and weight, Marcus was still very much a kid, probably less mature than the average twenty-four-year-old. Of course, the average twenty-four-year-old didn’t get tossed into heartthrob, millionaire status right out of college.

Olivia exchanged a worried glance with Dylan. “Is your cousin here?” she asked.

“No!” he said too quickly, still not meeting her gaze.

“Okay, well, then go,” Dylan said. “And take care.”

Marcus darted for the revolving door, and Olivia turned to Dylan. “What was that all about? Why did you let him go?”

“Because he’s an adult who deserves the chance to make the right choices. We can’t babysit him. We just have to hope for the best.”

“In theory, I agree. In reality, Ian sent me to keep an eye on him too.”

Dylan grasped her hand. “There’s keeping an eye on him and there’s babysitting. You can’t just follow him around twenty-four seven.”

She sighed. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Don’t you know by now? I’m
always
right.”

She elbowed him in the side. “And I’m always starving. Let’s go before I’m forced to comment on that statement.”

They turned and headed for the restaurant once more, but Olivia couldn’t stop thinking about Marcus … and she had a gut feeling trouble would definitely be coming. She only hoped any fallout didn’t hit her, as well as Marcus.

To her pleasant surprise, trouble didn’t follow Marcus that day or the next. They attended all the Pro-Bowl-related parties and press events. And when they weren’t talking business, she and Dylan spent time alone, their relationship growing. It was a novel experience, allowing herself to enjoy without worry—but he made it easy. And without the real world to intrude, she actually relaxed.

The morning of the Pro Bowl, the players had interviews scheduled at the Tailgate Party in the VIP Tent. The sun shone, and the day was warm, perfect for the musical celebrity talent to play outside. Dylan and Olivia showed up early, making sure the players were comfortable and had what they needed. Olivia was having a blast. The casual atmosphere allowed her to wear a comfortable sleeveless dress, and she pulled her hair up in a sleek ponytail to help her avoid getting sweaty and hot.

Players from every team mingled, some accompanied by their families, all with smiles on their faces. All but Marcus, who was nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” Dylan asked, teeth clenched, his annoyance palpable. The time for the man’s interview in the broadcast booth was inching closer. “We should have met them in the lobby and traveled to the stadium together.”

“They aren’t children, as you pointed out. We didn’t think we needed to make sure they met their limo at the hotel this morning.”

Dylan frowned, and she couldn’t help but smooth the wrinkles in his forehead with her finger. He groaned at the intimate touch.

“Not the time,” he muttered, but his voice dropped to that husky tone that got her insides revving.

Of course, just looking at Dylan in his dark pants and white shirt with aviators on his eyes and it didn’t matter that she’d had him inside her earlier this morning. She wanted him again, as evidenced by the pulsing between her thighs.

She swallowed a groan of her own. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to track him down,” she said, focusing on what was important.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“You stay and keep an eye on the others,” she assured him.

She walked away from the tailgate, stopping when she knew she could hear better on her phone. She hoped there wasn’t anything seriously wrong and Marcus had just overslept.

First she called the hotel and asked for his room. No answer. She called back and asked the operator if either she or Dylan had had any messages left for them, hoping maybe Marcus had tried to get in touch.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing,” the woman who’d answered the phone said.

“Can you connect me with the concierge?” she asked. When a man answered, she asked if anyone had seen Marcus get into his scheduled limousine that morning.

“Actually, I did see him.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“Positive. Because another man met up with him at the car. Yelled out his name.”

Olivia narrowed her gaze. “Did you see what the other man looked like?” she asked.

“Sorry. They argued a bit and then climbed into the car. I was busy and didn’t get a look at him,” the concierge said.

“How long ago?”

“About forty minutes?”

“Thank you.” Late but on his way.

Olivia pulled out her cell and was about to check in with Dylan when she caught sight of Marcus just inside the tent.

She rushed to catch up with him, pushing through the crowd. Thanks to his size, she was able to spot him easily and called out, “Marcus!”

He turned toward her, and her stomach plummeted. His white dress shirt was rumpled and half untucked, and there was no tie to be found. Worse, his eyes were red and glassy, and he didn’t look anywhere near ready to talk to reporters, let alone play football.

She strode up to him and clasped his arm. “Marcus!”

“Miss Olivia!” He stepped toward her, but his gait was unsteady.

“Where have you been?” she asked in a low voice.

“Trying to be good. I really was. But—”

“Can I get your autograph?” a young boy asked.

“Sure.” Marcus grinned at the kid. Olivia waited for him to sign his name on the boy’s piece of paper, then grabbed his massive arm and pulled him away from people.

“Where are we going?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“To talk where we can’t be overheard or interrupted. Come on. Over here.” She led him to an empty picnic table. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, but I’m not feeling well. I think I have a virus or something. I’m dizzy.”

She blew out a breath. “Can you play today?”

He shrugged. “Not sure.” The big football player turned blue eyes on her. “Wendell said it would pass, but I think I’m getting worse.”

“Wendell?” Olivia asked, her voice rising.

The other man cringed. “Well, yeah. He’s here in Arizona,” he said, dropping his head. “That day you saw me, Wendell called and asked me to meet him. I did it, only to tell him he couldn’t stay.”

Olivia blew out a breath. “What happened?”

“He said he understood. We talked and he left.” Marcus ran a hand through his blond hair. “Then he showed up at my room this morning. Said he wanted to wish me luck before the game. Said he wasn’t going to cause trouble. He just wanted to have breakfast with me and he’d go. He’s my cousin. I couldn’t say no.” His worried, glassy eyes begged her to believe.

Olivia nodded. “So what happened? Are you sure you didn’t drink with him?”

“We ate. I had bacon and eggs, and I just drank orange juice, I swear. But my stomach started to bother me soon after. So Wendell rode here in the limo with me in case I didn’t feel well.”

So Wendell was
here
at the event. That was trouble nobody needed, and Olivia’s stomach plummeted. At least he couldn’t get inside the event without a press pass or ticket, and the Thunder hadn’t issued him one of those.

Still, a sudden wave of apprehension washed over her. “Where is Wendell now?” she asked.

Marcus mumbled the answer.

“What did you say?”

“You’re going to be mad at me.”

“Just tell me.” She clenched her fists, already knowing the answer.

“I gave him my extra guest pass.”

“Okay, we need to get you examined by a doctor, and then if you can’t play, it will be done officially.”

She texted Dylan.
Found him. Problem. He’s sick.

Her phone buzzed, and she scanned Dylan’s reply.
On my way
.

She texted back.
Meet at entrance to pavilions.

“Come on.” She stood and pulled on Marcus’s arm.

He sluggishly walked with her to the entrance to the tent. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

“I’m nauseous and—”

“There you are!” Wendell called out.

Olivia glanced in the direction of the other man’s voice. Unlike his cousin, Wendell wasn’t dressed for a VIP event. He wore cut-off jean shorts and an ill-fitting football jersey, too big on his lean frame. He wasn’t good-looking like Marcus nor was he mild-mannered. Even if Marcus’s clothes were disheveled, he knew he was supposed to be properly attired. He represented the team. Wendell represented Marcus and, by extension, the Thunder.

One look at Wendell and Olivia could see the leashed anger beneath the surface. She’d thought it the first time they’d met at a Thunder practice he’d attended, and she noticed it again now.