More Than a Memory (17 page)

“
S
ee
, that wasn’t so bad.”

Glassy-eyed, I stare at the credits scrolling on the TV.

“Yes, it was,” I argue.

“It was an action movie. I thought you loved action movies.” She frowns, looking from me to the TV and back to me again.

“
Miss Congeniality
is
not
an action movie.
Transformers
is an action movie.
Deadpool
is an action movie. That,” I wave my hand at the screen, then pull out my phone, “was a chick flick.”

I find the IMDB app on my phone, type in the title, and grumble incoherently when the movie pulls up.

“What does it say?” Mischief fills her voice. “Give it to me.”

She yanks my phone from my hand before I can close the app.

Holding it up, she waves it in front of my face. “Action, comedy, crime. I was right! What do I win?”

“Me?” I offer with a shrug.

She contemplates my offer, nibbling at the skin of her lower lip. My cock thickens when naughtiness fills her eyes. Hope fills my gut when her hands find my chest and she shifts to straddle my lap.

Her trembling fingers find the hem of my shirt, and a second later, she’s lifting it over my head.

“What are you doing?” I ask, needing to know where her head is at.

Her hot mouth finds the skin on my neck, pulling a groan from my lips.

“Baseball,” she whispers in my ear.

My lips lift. “I like baseball.”

“I like baseball with you.” The brush of her hair against my chest as her mouth tastes my throat ignites my skin, the soft waves flowing over my chest and down my abdomen. I resist the urge to grab a handful and direct her mouth south.

My fingers flex, gripping her ass, forcing her against me as her mouth finds mine. The kiss is searing and passionate, different from every one before it. It’s sure and needy as she demands more from me.

I’ve restrained myself every other time her mouth has been on mine. I can easily go from playful banter to balls deep fucking in the blink of an eye, but Olivia isn’t a quick fuck. I don’t see her as a means to an orgasmic end.

She’s more.

I’ve waited, prayed, and bided my time until she was ready to take that next step, so her hips flexing against my shaft and soft moans rising up from her throat is confusing, and for the first time in my life, I think about the aftermath, what tomorrow will bring. Each and every time we get close physically, she pushes me away and closes off emotionally. As much as I would love to sink inside of her, as much as I would enjoy my mouth on every inch of her delicate flesh, I hesitate.

It suddenly becomes clear that the end game with Olivia isn’t conquering her body, but rather occupying her heart. Knowing this, I push her back slightly, my grip still on her hips.

“Olivia,” I pant, breathless from our kiss.

“First base,” she coos, taking off her tank top and revealing her perfect and blessedly braless breasts.

“Jesus,” I mutter. Relenting to the need that’s been building for weeks, I release her hips and taunt her puckered nipples with my thumbs.

Leaning forward, she presses one breast to my lips and I peer up at her, watching for her reaction when my tongue swipes at her offered flesh. Hooded eyes regard me with sultry desire, driving my hunger as my cock demands attention below her.

I release her breast and lavish the same attention on the other while pinching and toying with the wet flesh of the breast I just released.

Her hands find my engorged length peeking out from the top band of my shorts and I freeze.

“Olivia, no,” I say with newfound willpower.

“I want this,” she whimpers, her eyes pleading with me as the tip of her finger brushes over my erection.

“We don’t have to do this,” I say, stilling her hands and bringing them to the safety of my chest.

Her lips find mine again, desperation radiating off her.

I pull my head back.

“I want this,” she repeats as her eyes grow bleary with tears.

Without a word, I lift her at her hips, stand from the couch, and carry her into her room, laying her down on the bed. Positioning myself over her, I push her blonde waves away from her face.

“I don’t want to waste my life, Bryson.”

“Hey,” I whisper, sweeping my thumb over her cheek, “there’s no rush. I’ll still be here tomorrow, next week, next year. You don’t have to live like it’s already over.” Truth spills from my mouth as I picture a life with her.

“Tomorrow is never promised.”

Now we get to the root of the issue. Does she want this from me because she regrets never taking this step with him? Will she picture him when I sink inside her?

“I want this with you,” she says, bringing her hand up to my face as if she can read my mental struggle.

Pulling away, I stand at the side of the bed.

“Bryson?”

“I have to get a condom,” I mumble before walking out the door and heading to my own bedroom. Once inside, I rest my head against the coolness of the wall separating our rooms instead of retrieving the latex I used as an excuse to catch my breath. I argue with myself that no matter how upset she gets, no matter how much she pulls away, I’m still able to bring her back around. My reasoning is solid, but taking her virginity is not something that can be forgotten tomorrow or the next day. That act is life changing. That regret can be long lived.

Still undecided over how the night will end, I grab a condom and go back to her. Covered to her neck in the sheet, I register her shock at seeing me back in her room. I must have been gone a while for that amount of doubt to set in.

Placing the condom on the bedside table, I climb back into bed. She reaches for me the second I get within touching distance and I decide to throw my doubt into the wind and leave it up to her to pump the brakes. She will if she’s not comfortable, and I have to trust that.

I groan as I pull back the covers and find her naked. The glorious sight of every inch of her milky flesh exposed makes my mouth water.

“You need the condom.”

“Not yet,” I say as my mouth finds her breast. “Let me please you.”

A hand grips my hair, and nails scrape my back as I kiss down her body and dip my tongue into her bellybutton. Whimpering moans escape her lips as she opens her legs wider for me.

“Beautiful,” I praise, working my thumb over her clit in a slow, circular motion.

Her hips buck as both hands lock into my hair, and my control snaps. Soft, easy, and slow no longer part of my vocabulary, my mouth closes over her silken, heated flesh, my tongue performing an un-choreographed dance against her clit.

Her hips buck against my mouth while her hands attempt to pull me off her as her body fights opposing forces—too much, yet not enough. My own body is familiar with the sensation every second I’m near her.

I grind my cock into the mattress as I continue to work her over the edge, needing her as wet and turned on as possible. Taking what she’s offering won’t be pleasant, but I’m going to do my damn best to make it as pleasurable as possible. A voice inside my head cheers at the knowledge of being her first, but I quiet it, knowing I won’t last long at all. It’s not the norm for me, but I haven’t been inside a woman in weeks—my longest dry spell since hitting puberty.

I sweep my finger at her entrance and dip inside, testing her. She quivers at the attention, her body clamping and gripping, begging for more.

I close my eyes and devour her, my cock so hard, it’s almost painful. Her moans echo off the walls as my tongue lashes at her and finger delves deeper. Back arching off of the bed, she gasps sharply as her body begins to convulse. I never take my mouth from her, but watch as her eyes squeeze shut and her teeth clamp her bottom lip so hard, I expect to see blood. She tugs on my hair, forcing my head away, and with one last lick, I stop and lift onto my arms.

Running my hand over my mouth, I crawl up her body, feeling like a hero at the satisfied smile on her face.

“Third base,” she says breathlessly.

I grin at her continued baseball analogy. “That’s plenty for tonight.”

She shakes her head as her eyes find mine.

“Home run,” she insists.

“I think this is too serious of a situation for you to use baseball to ask for something so precious. A home run isn’t what I want from you, Liv.”

Her smile falters momentarily, until a mischievous glint sparks in her eye. “Fuck me, Bryson.”

The pulse in my cock pounds at her demands, but my head knows that’s not what this is.

“I don’t want to fuck you either.”

“Then, what…?” her voice trails off when she notes the look in my eyes.

Her eyes soften immediately, only the faintest of nods granting me permission.

My weight shifts from one side to the other as I push my shorts and boxers off my legs. Looking up, I find Olivia waiting with the condom between her fingers. Her active involvement in preparing me for her means more than she could possibly know. I open the foil packet and work it down my length, the feel of my own hand almost too much at this point.

“This is going to hurt, Liv,” I warn, positioning myself at her entrance and rubbing over her clit.

“I know,” she whispers, closing her eyes.

“Don’t,” I beg. “I need to know you’re with me.”

Her eyes find mine as I push the first thick inch inside. I lean forward to kiss the pained grimace from her face.

“Are you sure? It’s not too late.”

She gently shakes her head.

“No, beautiful. I need the words.”

“Please, Bryson. I’m ready.”

I take her at her word, pushing in and not stopping when I meet the thin barrier. I hold her tighter, whisper assurances in her ear as I claim the one thing no other man will get. Her body clamps down, tiny muscles rippling along me. I fight the need to speed up, to push deeper until I’m covered in a sheen of sweat and my body trembles from my restraint.

I kiss her tears away and swallow her cries when I pull out and slowly thrust in again. Fingers dig into my back, and her leg wraps around my hip, urging me on.

“I won’t last,” I confess, searching her eyes for remorse.

“That’s okay,” she says with a short, pained laugh.

My hips jerk forward one last time before I groan my release. With my eyes closed, my mouth seeks hers, praising her for her surrender. I kiss her forever, refusing to pull my mouth from hers even when she winces against my lips as my body leaves hers. Keeping my mouth busy is the only way to keep my words inside—words I so desperately want to say…words she’s not close to being ready to hear.

“
H
ey
.” Bryson’s husky voice pulls me from a deep sleep as his reverent touch pushes hair away from my face. “I have a meeting with the team before class.”

I roll closer to him, wincing from the soreness.

“I’m sorry.” His look is sincere, but he’s still a man, so the glint of triumph is still in his eyes.

“No you’re not.” I slap at his chest.

He clasps my hand and holds it to his mouth. “I hate that I hurt you. Seeing you in pain is the last thing I want.”

I close my eyes at his sweet words. “I’d go through it every day if it means you never stop looking at me the way you did last night.”

It’s true. The sting and ache from his body pales in comparison to the joy that took over my heart.

His big hand brushes over my cheek as I try to express without words how special last night was for me. Appreciation at his tenderness, euphoria at the way he handled my body, and mental acuity at wanting to do it again is all there on my face.

His face softens, his mouth tilting up in a small smile and eyes filling with promise. His lips find mine in an unhurried, passionate kiss—a kiss that translates into a promise of more. Sexual tension is on the edge as it always is, but this kiss is gracious, humble, and filled with assurance, quelling any doubts I may have had before today.

“You’re going to be late,” I mutter against his mouth after the kiss slows to soft pecks and nips.

He groans in aggravation and shifts his hips against me. The heat of his erection stokes the fire always present when he’s nearby.

My pulse increases as he presses harder against me, a need building from some place so deep it almost scares me. The fear of the unknown, however, isn’t enough to keep me from wanting him again.

“Fuck,” he hisses when I open my legs for him. “I’m going to quit the team.”

My eyes wide, I stare back at him. “You can’t.”

“If I did, I could spend so much more time with you, in you.” His mouth finds mine again, licking, biting, and toying before he pulls back on a defeated groan. “I have to go.”

He jerks back and stands, as if he’s fighting invisible forces pulling him to the bed. His erection stands proud, jutting out below his naked hips. In the darkness, it seemed less daunting, but seeing it now, it’s no wonder I’m a little sore this morning.

He leans in one last time. “Take a hot bath, beautiful. It’ll ease some of the soreness.”

“I will,” I promise. A hot bubble bath and relaxing music sounds like the perfect way to start my day.

Tugging the corner of the sheet, he surveys my exposed flesh. Gripping his length tightly, he strokes up and down at leisurely pace. The fire in his eyes combined with the movement of his hand makes me squirm.

“Take the bath, Olivia. I’m going to need you again when I get back.”

I nod in agreement, hating baseball today as he leaves the room.

Exhaustion, emotional overload, and the exertion from last night drags me back under. I wake hours later, slightly less sore, realizing I fell back asleep before I even heard Bryson leave the apartment. I reach to the bedside table, searching for my phone to check the time when my eyes land on a sticky-note with a heart on it. Beside the thoughtful note are two painkillers and a bottle of water.

I consume his gift and scoot off the bed. The sting when my body hits the hot water quickly abates, and before long, I’m in heaven. Muscles ease their tension as tiny bubbles pop against my skin. The ringing of my phone destroys my little slice of heaven. I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail, only for it to blast through the bathroom again a minute later.

Sighing, I shake a cloud of bubbles from my hands and grab my phone.

“Hey, Mom.” I close my eyes again and slink lower in the tub.

“Hey, Ollie. You sound tired. Are you getting sick?” So invasive.

“No, I’m in the bath.”

“You shouldn’t have answered if you were in the tub, dear.”

“I let it go to voicemail and you called right back. Is it important?” I hate rushing my mom, but a relaxing bath is anything but relaxing with her concern in my ear.

“There’s been some fraudulent activity on your credit card. I just wanted you to know your new one should be here in a week or so.”

I sit up, water sluicing around me. “Fraudulent activity?” I shop online, so someone getting my information if I made the mistake of purchasing from an unsecure site isn’t a far stretch.

“Yes. Someone must have gotten your card. I’m concerned about Bryson, Ollie. Has he had access to your purse?”

I bristle. “He’s not like that, Mom. Why are you even suspecting him?”

He’s not the type, right? He wouldn’t just get close to me to use me, would he? Last night flashes through my head. He wouldn’t steal
that
from me, would he?

“All the purchases were made in a two-hour time span,” she informs.

“Sometimes I go a little crazy when shopping online.” My pulse pounds in my head at the possibility of Bryson being that guy and my hands tremble to the point where I’m afraid I’m going to drop the phone.

“This wasn’t you. These purchases were made in person a couple weekends ago. The card was used locally, Ollie. Now, I’ve contacted the police and they are working on getting video from the stores. We’ll know then.”

I sigh in relief and sag against the back of the tub.

“Those are my charges, Mom.”

“Don’t protect him, Ollie.”

I can’t help but laugh. One second she’s talking him up and trying to shove me onto him, and the next she’s accusing him of credit card fraud.

“I’m not,” I snap. “His sister Emerson came to town and we went shopping. We went to Trader Joe’s and the outlet mall, so there will be numerous charges from there, and we ended up at that cute little sandwich shop on twenty-third.”

“Really?” Her voice cracks and I can all but see the tears welling in her eyes. “You went shopping?”

“I did,” I confirm. “Had a lot of fun. I’ve gone out several times recently. Lunch, the dog park, even tagged along to a few baseball practices with Bryson.”

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that!” Of course I do, I can hear it in her voice. “So, are you and Bryson, you know…?”

I groan into the phone, resisting the urge to sink below the water line and let the bubbles swallow me up.

“Don’t you need to call the police and cancel their investigation?”

“Oh, damn! Yes, I do. Love you, Ollie.”

“Love you, too.” I disconnect the call before she can ask any other intrusive questions.

A bathrobe is all I bother putting on. I bounce around the apartment practically on the tips of my toes, ecstatic about his promise and what the plans will be when he gets back.

I’m going to need you.

Not want—
need.

That word is so powerful to me, and every time I think about the way it fell from his lips in his husky voice this morning, my body responds differently than it ever has. I’m flying through the clouds by the time the afternoon rolls around, the smile that was on my lips when he kissed me this morning never really dissipating. I feel weightless, and I’m in desperate need of grounding myself.

Call it a character flaw, but reading too much into situations has always been an issue with me. Last night was amazing, as I hope every night from now on will be, but that doesn’t keep me from wondering where it’s all heading or when it will inevitably collapse. It doesn’t prevent the insidious doubt from creeping in, the voice that constantly tells me to open my eyes and quit dreaming like a little girl when she thinks about her future and the fairy tale she wants her life to be. I dreamed of that fairy tale once, and in the end, it left me broken, a partial shell of who I once was.

I don’t open my laptop out of spite or some negative emotion. Regret and guilt almost didn’t even register when I woke up in his arms this morning. There was a twinge, but not the torrential onslaught I imagined it would be. Had we taken that first step the night I begged him to kiss me, the morning after chain reaction of going all the way when I knew I wasn’t ready would have been destructive to the bond we’ve been forming. I was ready last night.

I pull up a video and hover the mouse over the play triangle. The guilt I feel now is for Bryson, not Duncan. I can tell, little by little, I’m moving on. I know what happened last night was meant to happen exactly like it had. I can admit I have serious feelings for Bryson without hating myself for it, but today, I miss Duncan.

Even with all of that info, I still hit play.

“You look better.”

“I still feel like shit.”

“You’re gorgeous. Even better looking than the day I fell in love with you.”

“And what day was that, sweet cheeks?” I smile, watching his eyes lighten up. It’s my favorite part of this video. He’d just started his first round of chemo, so the drugs hadn’t destroyed him yet.

“First day of freshman year.”

“I was covered in acne and had braces.”

“Like I said, even better looking than the day I fell in love with you.”

A heavy thumb forces me to jerk my chin up. My eyes land on Bryson’s backpack on the floor and travel up his legs until landing on his gorgeous, but extremely exasperated face. His eyes dart from mine to the laptop as Duncan’s voice tells me he loves me. I close the lid on the laptop, my eyes never leaving his face. No sense in trying to hide it now.

“Bryson, I—”

His hand flips up to silence me and I’m grateful for it. I honestly didn’t even know what I was going to say. I watch him pace, my heart rate increasing with each heavy step.

He turns his back to me, his hands plowing through his hair. Denying me the look in his eyes is more painful than I ever thought it could be. The lack of insight to how he feels guts me, causing my stomach to flip with unease, and I have to wonder if it is intentional, a way to hurt me like I’ve clearly hurt him.

“Am I just a placeholder? A surrogate because you can’t have the man you truly desire?” The pain is evident in his voice without even having to see the same reaction on his face. Defeat slumps his shoulders as he takes another step away.

I shake my head no, even though he can’t see my face. “No,” I sob, hanging my head in shame for making him feel this way.

“I let it go before, Liv. It cut me deep the day I came in here and you were watching those damn videos, but I figured you needed more time, so I gave it to you.” He spins around, and the tears on his cheeks slay me. “It’s always one step forward and ten steps back with you.”

Jerky hands swipe at the tears rolling down his cheeks. His heavy breathing fills the small room as his hands clasp the back of his neck, tugging to ease the tension I’ve brought on. It’s clear he’s upset with me, and possibly even more furious that he’s so emotional over it.

“I’m here, Liv. Me! I’m more than a memory.” He pounds his hand against his chest, his lips working into a tight line to control his emotion. “We made love last night. When you gave me…fuck! I lost myself to you in this bedroom. How fucked up is it that I come home and realize I’ve lost you to him?” He jabs his finger at the laptop still sitting on my lap. “No, fuck that,” he continues. “It’s apparent I never had you.”

The tremor in his last words and dullness suddenly hitting his eyes all show his defeat. Tears fall, but it’s the slam of his bedroom door a few seconds later that breaks me. My lips quiver uncontrollably as resignation that I’ve lost him too descends on me. Unsure what to do, I gather my laptop and hide away in my room, hating that I need Duncan more now than ever.