Page 4

Jenna

After a long drive and plenty of time to think about what I was doing, I now sit in front of Oliver’s home. His house is outside the city and seems far too big for someone who lives alone, but that’s not uncommon with professional athletes. It’s all about show, not practicality.

Seeing that Oliver is no exception to this phenomenon makes it easier to turn him down.

I’ve spent most of the day thinking about Oliver in good and bad lights. At first, I was obsessed with replaying our kiss in the locker room. It was like a short film that would start over again and again in my mind. I let him kiss me; I could have thrown a fit and told him no, even told my dad what he tried to do. That’s not how it went through—but now that I’m thinking rationally, my next steps seem obvious.

I glance at my overnight bag in my passenger seat. I packed it knowing what a huge juxtaposition it would be considering I was here to turn him down, but I’m leaving it in the car and that has to count for something right?

I take a steadying breath and finally start to make my way up the well-lit walkway leading to his oversized front door. On the short walk there, I remind myself of all the reasons why Oliver is off-limits, why I’m off-limits to him. I remind myself why dating or getting involved with athletes is not a good idea. Just like the houses and the expensive cars, women are nothing more than trophies to them, and I’ll be damned if I’m anything more than a commodity.

I knock on the door, and almost immediately Oliver pulls it open. We stare at each other for a few seconds before a wide grin stretches across his face. My heart flutters in my chest and damn if my conviction doesn’t start to crumble. Oliver’s eyes quickly roam over my body, heating my insides like a warm blanket draped over my shoulders.

“Jenna,” he says. “It’s good to see you.”

I give him a nod as he steps aside, welcoming me inside. The interior of his home wasn’t what I was expected; it’s understated, furnished in a minimalistic way. Parties aren’t held at houses like this, this isn’t the kind of place you show off to women or friends. This is the kind of place that exists only for Oliver to relax after practice.

I don’t let this information sway me though.

The door clicks shut, the lock engaging. Then, Oliver’s hand is on my shoulder. As he turns me toward him, I can already feel his intentions. I have to speak before he kisses me, before my body surrenders to him without my permission.

“Wait, Oliver,” I say, putting my hands on his chest and staring into his eyes. I give him my most serious expression. “I’m not here to hook up with you.” Even though the overnight bag in my car tells me otherwise.

“I already told you that’s not what I want, Jenna,” he replies, tone silky smooth and sure. “Is it less intimidating if I said I want to marry you?” He flashes me a coy smile when my eyes widen.

“Oliver, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just have me.”

“Of course not,” Oliver says, unaffected by my rejection. He rests a hand against my jaw, cupping my cheek and urging me to look at his face again. “But you feel something between us, too. I know you do.”

He’s right. And that’s why I decide to ignore that statement. If I voice my thoughts, he’ll have me – hook, line, and sinker.

“I don’t think you get it,” I say instead. “Oliver, I’m not one of your toys. I’m not a possession. I’m sure that cute marriage line works on other women just fine, but I’m not like them.”

“You really think I’m picking up other women?” He lets go of my cheek, and I mourn the loss. “Jenna, I’m not that kind of guy.”

Even though I find myself believing him, I say, “Sure you’re not.”

He runs his enormous hand through his blond hair. Determination is written in each of his features. I realize I’m holding my breath as I wait to see how he rebuffs me.

“Let’s sit down,” he says after a moment. “I don’t date. Or do hookups. I’ll tell you why. You can decide if you believe me after we talk.”

His expression is so open, so genuine, that I can’t help but nod. I let him take my hand, enjoying the way his palm dwarfs mine. Then, he walk us into his living room before we settle onto a black leather couch. He threads his fingers through mine and give them a little squeeze that sends my pulse racing.

“You’re not just something for me to acquire ,” Oliver says, rubbing his thumb against mine. “I need you to know that. I know the kind of athlete you’re comparing me to, and trust me, I’m as disgusting by them as you are. I know you’re different, I know you’re not like the rest.”

“Oliver…” I say, the truth of his words piercing me.

“Let me finish,” he says on a sigh. “I want to tell you this, even if it might confirm some suspicion about me.” Oliver runs a hand down his face before continuing. “I’ve never been the random hook-up type, but one night after a game, some of my teammates convinced me to take someone home, that it’s what I needed. It happened once, and ever since then I… I just don’t do that kind of thing anymore. Plus, I played the worst game of my life the next day,” Oliver says with a half-hearted laugh.

I find myself rubbing his hand, too, seeing how hard it was for him to admit something he felt shame about. Athletes are usually superstitious, so when he says he played a terrible game after his hook-up, I already know he believes that somehow that event caused him to play at his worst.

“So, why do you think being with me won’t continue a rain of bad luck?” I’m half kidding, but I’m also thinking about all my pre-game rituals that keep me locked and loaded for my games.

Oliver smiles. “I know it won’t, and even if he does, I don’t care. One day I won’t be able to play anymore, and I’ll still want you.”

“Oliver…” I say his name like it’s a prayer for help.

“Players age out, Jenna. This isn’t something I want for this season or this year; if you’ll let me, I want to pursue like you deserve to be pursued.”

Fuck, he has his claws in me, deep. I’m right where he wants me to be, and I just let it happen. I tighten my fingers around his, noticing the tension I walked in here with has been replaced by something stronger, something I can’t ignore.

Before I can speak, Oliver leans forward, closing the gap between us, and I meet him halfway.

This kiss…it’s more meaningful than the one we shared in the locker room. Me kissing him back tells him that everything he’s said to me has landed somewhere in my heart—that I don’t just feel butterflies, I feel a whole forest fire for him.

When Oliver yanks me onto his lap, I go easily. My knees fall on either side of his thighs. His hands rest possessively on my hips. An unrestrained groan escapes my mouth, and I feel his hard length pressing against my sensitive sex. On instinct, I press my body down against him. He responds by thrusting upward. It sends electric shocks through my entire being.

The heat between us intensifies, and I know my overnight bag is laughing at me right now. My heart is racing in excitement, but also a little fear. I’ve always been so independent, done things all on my own. I refuse help at every turn and get offended when I think that I’m being treated too delicately. Yet, when I’m around Oliver, I feel like I can just let go. It must be his earlier vulnerability. Because he opened up to me, I want to let him return the favor.

Inexplicably, him calling me “little girl” plays in my mind.

“Oliver,” I gasp, pulling away from his mouth when his hands drift down to my ass. “Hold on, I have to tell you something.”

“What is it, baby?” he asks, the pet name sending a shiver down my spine. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, more than okay,” I say, gasping when his hips jerk up to press his hardness against me again.

“Then what is it?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “It’s okay. You can tell me anything.”

“I’m, uh,” I start, losing my mind a little when he starts to press kisses down the column of my neck. “I’ve never… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Oliver pauses as he processes my words. He chuckles under his breath, but it doesn’t feel derisive. Then, he starts kissing me again. Against my skin, he says, “Are you telling me you’re a virgin, little girl?”

There it is. That name. The one that makes me feel absolutely crazy for him. A moan of desire escapes my lips. My head is nodding before I find my voice again.

“I am,” I finally admit out loud. His cock twitches under my ass, my innocence clearly turning him on. “But I trust you.”

“Good,” he says, connecting our mouths again in a steamy kiss. “Let’s get you to my bedroom then, little girl.”

“Yes, daddy,” I sigh, the word slipping out before I can think about it. Immediately, I begin to take it back saying, “I’m sorry, I–”

“You want daddy to take care of you?” he asks, his voice dropping down to a lower octave. “Is that what you want, baby?”

I shudder, my hands on his shoulders gripping him even harder. I whisper, “Yes, daddy,” then, I squeak when he picks me up and starts walking me through his house.