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“Why are you surprised by that?” My brows furrow.
“I mean, look at you. You’re by far the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Plus, you have the whole brooding, charismatic, enigmatic thing going on. I mean, there must be women falling at your feet.” She scoffs before picking at a piece of steak.
“And look at you, Olivia. There’s a slew of men pining over you.” I imagine her straddling Nathan, and the bitter taste of iron fills my mouth.
“Maybe. It doesn’t really matter, though. I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” She twirls her hair and doesn’t meet my eyes. I give an internal sigh of relief that she’s not expecting more from me. Maybe she’s as fucked up over this situation as I am. I haven’t wanted a relationship in a while, either. My last one ended during graduate school. While it was an amicable breakup, I haven’t had the time or desire for one. Tim tried to set me up twice since I graduated. Once was after the Vanessa situation, and I just couldn’t get interested in dating. I wanted to pour myself into my research, into making tenure, teaching and writing, like a legacy would comfort me while I was six feet under in the grave.
“Have you been in one?” She’s young enough. Maybe she hasn’t had one. Either way, who am I to judge?
“Yeah, I was with someone for two years. We just broke up a few months before I started at Bennington.”
“Two years? That’s impressive for your age.” The words die on my tongue as I take in her stormy expression.
“It’s not something I like to talk about. He didn’t treat me well.” She’s looking straight at me, but by the haunted look in her eyes, I might as well not be here at all. I have an overwhelming itch to know who hurt her and to ensure they know there won’t be another opportunity to do it again. I hold my breath as realization dawns that one night may not be enough to get her out of my system.
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia
Leaningbackintotheupholstered booth, my head swims. The candle between us paints a hazy, romantic ambiance. Tomas is doing it again- stripping me bare with just a look. My nerves are confused and frayed. I’m whiplashed from spending the whole day with Tomas, and icy from the sudden mention of Julian. Please, Tomas. Change the fucking subject for me.
"Well, don't you look satiated?" DeLuca gingerly dabs his chin with the cloth napkin, giving me a smile so charming it should be illegal.
“Considering my muscles were in pain less than two hours after my workout, this steak was an exceptional idea. What’s next on the menu?” He chews on his bottom lip, rolling it in and out of his teeth, distracting me from his furrowed, pensive brow. Then, he sits up a little straighter, like whatever he's going to say next is of dire consequence. I brace myself.
"I'll give you two choices." He has a weird look on his face, guilt and pining wrapped into one devilish expression. I stare at him expectantly as he takes his sweet time, like I'm not dying over here.
"I’ll take you back to your car." The waitress drops the check off, and Tomas quickly takes out his credit card. "Or?" I prompt impatiently. My whole body is still a heated bundle of nerves wound tight. While my exhibitionist show in the shower took some of the edge off, it was minuscule. Lucky for me, Tomas seemed to be a generous and hungry man. I needed at least one night. Hell, if our chemistry throughout the night is a quarter of what we shared in the shower, a lifetime may not even be enough.
"Say it, Tomas. For fuck’s sake, let me come home with you." It only takes one look at his face to see the question hanging in the balance.
"I'll take it into consideration. I had some other ideas in mind," he says, sliding his credit card back into his wallet. As we leave, his hand on the small of my back sends sparks through my body. His palm pushes my need further to the brink. The sun has set, taking all of its warmth with it, and a small shiver escapes. With an abrupt stop, he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. Maybe it's the food, or maybe the lingering hormones from my orgasm earlier, but the butterflies are getting harder to ignore. He stops at the passenger side, hellbent on opening my door again. Before he opens the door, he spins me, pinning my back to the sleek black paint of his car.
He fists my hair, tugging hard enough to get my attention, light enough that it doesn't warrant a yelp. Even if it did, it would’ve died on my lips as a split second later, he puts his own to mine. There's nothing chaste or soft about the kiss. No, this is something else entirely.
Claiming, punishing, as if he can't believe I made him wait. Whatever reasoning or concern was rooting him to being the voice of reason seems to have snapped. His hands roam my neck, cupping firmly, then skating lower over my bra and breasts.
"Fuck." He growls against my lips.
"Is this okay?" he murmurs in between kisses, kneading my breasts until my nipples turn to stiff peaks.
"I'll tell you if it's not," I answer in a breathy whisper.
"Good girl," he says in a thick, heady voice that goes straight between my legs. He plants a trail of kisses down my neck, his stubble rough compared to his soft lips. The combination of pleasure and discomfort spiraling me further and further down. He stops above my cleavage. I moan into his shoulder, my bright red nails clawing his back. When the sensations send me into overload, I rip my legs apart, shamelessly dragging my needy pussy over his muscular thigh. I don’t give him the same courtesy and ask for permission. He pushes his knee further against me, giving me leverage. Coupled with his brazen decree, I chase my orgasm closer to the edge.
"That's right, baby. Use me. Take your orgasm from me."
“I intend to do just that,” I gasp out in a breathy whisper.
“Come for me again, Olivia," DeLuca growls into my ear, then follows up with a firm bite on my neck. That's all I needed to tip over the cliff's edge, sending me free-falling in a wave of pleasure in what may have been the world’s fastest orgasm… I bite his t-shirt, his neck, anything I can get in my mouth, hoping to stay quiet enough to not draw attention.
"Jesus. Fuck, Tomas. You feel too good," I half-heartedly complain. He gives me a wicked smile.
"You haven't even had me yet."
"I know. Do you want me on my knees for you right here to beg? Take me home with you. Just this once. Just give me this once. Please, Tomas." He continues his assault of my mouth as his hands roam my thighs, my arms, my breasts, and anywhere he can find exposed flesh. When his hands circle my neck, tight enough to make me wonder if his grip has other plans but light enough that I can breathe, I fall apart in his arms. The gesture leaves me gasping for more. He lets me slump against him as I try to feel the ground beneath my feet.
If DeLuca was any other man, I may be embarrassed about the blatant desperation in my voice and the way I just used him like a needy little slut in public, as he encouraged me. I don't have it in me to care. I just need to feel him pressed against me, on top of me, beneath me, however he'll have me. Wordlessly, he opens the car door and I duck inside. My orgasm left a wet circle on the thigh of his pants and I can't help but smirk a little. DeLuca eases out of the parking spot, merging us into traffic. We sit in companionable silence, both of us separately working out how our Sundays blended together so effortlessly. The last ray of sunlight dissipates into the clouds. Headlights from traffic illuminate DeLuca's handsome side-profile. He's toying with his lip again, brows furrowed.
