Page 7 of Overtime with Orion
He demonstrated with fluid grace, making it look effortless. I tried to copy him. The ball wobbled pathetically through the air and landed with a thud about ten feet away.
“That was awful,” I laughed, embarrassed.
“That was your first throw. It’s fine.” He jogged to retrieve it, and I couldn’t help watching the way he moved. “Try again.”
For the next twenty minutes, he patiently taught me the basics. I was terrible at it, but I was also determined—a combination that led to a lot of frustration and eventual small victories. Every time I managed a decent throw, Orion’s face lit up with genuine pride, and that look made me want to master every sport ever invented.
“Okay,” he said after I’d finally managed three good throws in a row. “Defense.”
“Defense?” I repeated.
“I’m going to try to get to that tree.” He pointed to a maple about twenty yards away. “Your job is to stop me.”
Challenge accepted. My eyes narrowed.
“Bring it on,” I said.
He started jogging toward me, not at full speed, and I stepped directly into his path with my arms spread wide. I knew he could easily get around me, but instead, he let me wrap my arms around his waist, and we both tumbled to the grass.
I found myself laughing, breathless, pinned beneath him with my hair spread out around me. Then our eyes met, and the laughter died in my throat. The air between us suddenly felt electric, charged with something that made my skin tingle.
“That’s not how you tackle in real football,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“Oh yeah?” I whispered, my heart pounding so hard, I was sure he could feel it. “How do you tackle in real football?”
Instead of answering, he rolled us over so I was straddling his hips, my hands braced against his chest. I could feel his heart racing beneath my palms, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
“Larkin…” he started.
I had to tell him. I had to be honest.
“I have a confession.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t come out here for football.” The words tumbled out in a rush, my cheeks burning. “I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you.”
His hands found my hips, steadying me, and the contact sent heat shooting through my entire body. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“There’s more.” I bit my lip, gathering courage for what I was about to admit. “I’ve never…I mean, I haven’t…”
Understanding flickered in his eyes, followed by something that looked like awe. “Larkin.”
“I’m twenty-three,” I said quickly, before I could lose my nerve. “And I’ve never even come close. I’ve been waiting for the right person, the right moment. I know we just met, but I’ve never felt anything like this.”
The way he looked at me then—like I was the only woman in the world that mattered—made my chest tighten with emotion.
“Are you sure?” He sat up, bringing us face to face, his hands still on my hips as I settled more fully into his lap. “Because once we cross this line?—“
“I’m sure.” I leaned forward until my forehead rested against his, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his skin. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you to be my first, Orion. I want you to teach me.”
Something shifted in his expression—restraint finally snapping—and then his hands were cupping my face and he was kissing me. Really kissing me. It was nothing like the awkward kisses I’d had before. This was heat and need and months of loneliness poured into one perfect moment of connection.
I kissed him back with everything I had, my hands fisting in his shirt, trying to pull him closer even though there was no space left between us. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“Not here,” he said against my lips, and I could hear the strain in his voice. “You deserve better than grass stains for your first time.”
“Where?” I asked, not caring about anything except the fact that we were going to keep touching, keep kissing, keep exploring this incredible thing between us.
