Page 5 of A Shot at Love

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 toacquire,” 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 fingersaround 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.”

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