When he was seated deep inside me, he pushed my legs closed, making me come again from the tight sensation.
“Come on, Shannon. Again.” I’d already come twice. Once the night before. I wasn’t sure I had another one in me.
I panted quietly, biting my tongue to keep from shouting out. “Oliver…please…”
His hand wrapped around my stomach and played with my clit, and his other hand curled around my shoulder. He had me completely restrained, completely held immobile for him except for the pressure I could put on his headboard.
I threw my head back as he thrust his hips against me fast, more powerfully. He didn’t stop until I was screaming all over again, gasping for breath as my eyelids slammed shut. My orgasm took me over the edge with a deep, slow burn that wasn’t any less powerful than it’d been earlier.
“Oliver.”
“Fucking hell.” He thrust into me, taking his hand off my clit and clamping it around my hip to hold me still while he chased his own orgasm, pumping into me with a precision and power I would think he’d reserve for the football field before he let loose his own groan. He pushed me forward so hard we both collapsed into the bed. His forehead rested against the back of my head and his groan made my scalp tingle. “Shannon, holy shit, honey.”
I trembled at the endearment that fell from his lips.
When he’d caught his breath he slowly pulled out, rolled me over, and pressed his lips to mine, ignoring the fact that I had always hated morning breath and sweat. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’,” I muttered against his lips.
He gave me a squeeze before he rolled off me and headed toward the bathroom. “When do you need to leave? Do you have to set up your booth this morning?”
I brushed my hair off my face, reality setting in. Based on the light from behind the closed curtains, I had to get moving. It was the second day of the street fair and yesterday had been crazy busy, bigger and better than anything I could have imagined.
Last night when I’d finished closing everything up, I’d met him at the hotel for dinner and ended up staying.
“Yeah.” I sighed and stretched my well-abused limbs. I had my hands above my head, pressing against the headboard and my body in a long, lean line when he walked out of the bathroom.
“Someday, I’m going to tie you to the bed, just like that and fuck you till you can’t take any more.”
My hips rolled, jumping at the thought. Oliver caught it and then swore before turning back to the bathroom, groaning and pressing his fingers to his eyes.
“What are you doing?” I asked, pushing myself to sitting and swallowing a groan. My muscles were uncomfortable and tight, a combination of sitting in the heat all day yesterday and the athletic sex sessions.
“Taking out my contacts. I keep fucking falling asleep in them and my eyes are killing me.”
He wore…glasses?
I jumped from the bed, grabbing a shirt I’d tossed to the floor before, and met him in the bathroom. He splashed more water on his face before he patted it dry with a towel and removed a pair of glasses from the drawer next to him.
And holy shit. It changed the look of him. Took him from monstrous, sexy football player to sexy, forgetful professor in a heartbeat.
My lips parted. “You’re going to have to fuck me with those on.”
His eyes crinkled and he met my gaze in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the shaggy top and making it wilder. “What?”
A gazillion fantasies flashed in my mind and I nodded, breathless as I answered. “Oh. Yeah.”
“You’ll get your wish. Tonight.” He turned then and pressed his lips to my cheek. “But I can’t have you late for the festival today, and I have practice. I’ll meet you in the kitchen once you’re dressed, so get moving.”
I hurried. The promise of tonight sparked all sorts of wicked thoughts in my head.
***
The sun beat down on my shoulders despite the tent covering overhead. It was going to take me months, if not years, to get used to the constant heat that made the pavement so hot that it steamed all day long.
The crowd was packed along the street, vendors set along the curbs of the arts district Festival like we were sardines.
I was hot and sweaty. I was miserable from being in the sun for the last two days.
I was also having the time of my life.
My jewelry was selling faster than I had thought possible. I’d made enough money in the last two days alone to begin to set aside a decent amount to continue not only making more jewelry, but to begin paying Beaux back for the paid lease on my building.
A week from Wednesday, my furniture would arrive from Iowa and I could finally move into my own place.
The past week had been insanely busy while the Rough Riders had been preparing for another preseason game coming up the next day. They were preparing to play last year’s Super Bowl champions, and Oliver and Beaux had both spent the week acting like this preseason game was the AFC Championship game.
Not that I could blame them. The Seahawks had beaten the Rough Riders in the final playoff game last year, pushing them toward their Super Bowl win. The men—the entire team, it sounded like—were out for blood, and Beaux’s natural competitive instincts wanted to be the one to take them there.
I had barely seen Oliver all week long, but the night before he’d stopped by Stamped, insisting I stop working after I’d been at the street fair all day and was still burning the midnight oil, making more jewelry to have a bigger selection to sell on the two following days.
My fingers were blistered and sore, my hands cramped from the work.
I was still smiling, handing out business cards, letting everyone who stopped by know of my new business that would have its grand opening in two weeks, just before the first home game of the real season.
Melissa was flying out for it, and I couldn’t wait to see her, but I also couldn’t wait to show off my new home, my new life…my new man.
I grinned at the thought as a small cluster of women slowed down and approached my table.
They whispered their appreciation of the jewelry as one of the women picked up one of the leather braided cuff bracelets. Those had yet to sell. A part of me still didn’t like the way Oliver had mentioned that a friend of his would love them, and then dropped it without explaining who it was.
Not that it should have mattered—in the past week he’d shown me that when he decided to go all in for a relationship, to see what happened without a timeline ending things, he was really good at it.
It wasn’t just in bed, either. On the nights we didn’t see each other, he called and checked in. We didn’t talk long, but he still made the effort—something that surprised me. But he was showing me, slowly, that he was the guy I’d seen beneath the hard layer of arrogance he easily wore like a well-tailored coat.
He was the guy I’d seen whispering to his horses, taking care of them, and being at ease on the farm.
Not that I’d been back there. The week before we’d spent most of the time at his crash pad and not his home, needing to be out of the apartment when Beaux was around.
Beaux might have been okay with me dating Oliver, but I certainly wasn’t going to force him to hear about it at all hours.
“These are beautiful,” one of the women said, lifting a set of copper-colored bangles and inspecting the charms on each: love, faith, hope, peace, kindness… They sparkled from the sun hitting them before she placed them back down. “You make all of these?”
“I do.” I slid a business card toward her. “Stamped is the name of my business. It opens officially in two weeks, just a few doors down on this side of the street.”
I pointed toward the red brick building.
She took the card and smiled at me. She wouldn’t buy today, but I knew, based on the smile on her face, that she’d remember me. The way she gently seemed to brush her finger along the copper told me she was being genuine.
“These are impressive, truly. I love every single one of them.”
“Serena,” another woman’s voice called to her. “You have to come here.”
The woman jerked her head, and I frowned at the mention of her name. I’d heard it before, but couldn’t remember.
“What is it?” she asked, turning her head. Her face paled as the crowd seemed to part behind her.
My lips spread into a wide grin as Beaux and Oliver and three other men towered over most of the other patrons. Their bulk and their height made their presence noticeable to everyone around them.
Beaux was grinning, laughing at something someone behind him had said, when Oliver’s eyes met mine before narrowing on the woman in front of me.
“What in the fuck are you doing here?” He practically snarled, propping his hands on his hips as he walked straight up to her. “What shit are you pulling now, Serena?”
She smiled sweetly, a different smile from the one she’d given me earlier. If I wasn’t mistaken, she also pushed her ample breasts forward and cocked her hip. “Oliver. So good to see you again. How are you?”
“Cut the shit, Serena. What are you doing talking to Shannon?”
Her head whipped back before she turned to me, that catty smile still in place. “How do you two know each other? You know Oliver? My husband?”
My mouth opened and closed with no words escaping. I flashed wide eyes to Oliver.