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"But I could have gotten it for a lot cheaper."
"You gotta fight for what you want, Liv," I tell her and smile at her. But she doesn’t say anything, just remains speechless.
"Liv? Did you short-circuit?"
Before I can think any further, she is holding my face and kissing me hard. No tongue, just lips. And when she finally pulls back, I’m breathing heavily, my whole body suddenly craving for her, all of her. I grab her head and thrust my lips on top of hers, and only in a matter of a few seconds, my tongue is in her throat, and she is straddling my lap.
"Fuck, Liv. You drive me crazy." I groan in her ear as my hands travel up her spine. She digs her nails into my skin, and her touch is like a live wire, sending sparks of electricity to my brain, this time makingmeshort-circuit like a broken android.
"Take out your condom," she says, and both of us are equally surprised by her straightforwardness. But I oblige and see her blush. While she rips off her clothes, I put on the car shades and undress before making her straddle me again. I take in my beautiful view and keep myself steady, or at least try to.
I take her hips and settle her on top of me until I am inside of her, both of us shaking, holding onto each other for dear life. I press her soft breasts one by one, making her moan, and kiss her wildly before guiding her hips to move. I press her thighs softly but firmly, at the same time, gaining another set of moans as she holds onto my shoulders for much-needed support. Soon we are in perfect sync, moving slowly at first, then faster, our faces so close to each other but still not touching. We breathe in each other's groans and moans until nothing remains but puffy breaths, sweat-laden bodies, and tiny smiles. As she lies on my chest, I take in the smell of her perfume and think back to where I smelled it just now.
7
Olivia
I’msleepinginEthan'sbed or pretending to sleep, at least when he leaves the room, I sit up and stretch away the morning stiffness. Probably from the sex last night. I blush at the thought and quickly shake it away. It shouldn’t have happened…but I still seemed to like it. Maybe I even love it.
I stand to walk to the shower but decide to eavesdrop on Ethan's conversation instead. He is on a call with someone; I’m still determining who. I can hear Ethan's voice from the kitchen, bits, and pieces of conversation, which I am wise enough to put together.
"Coach, I can explain."
Silence.
"The girl needed the painting more than I did."
Silence.
"Right now, nothing I will say will make you realize the place our team holds in my heart, but I will say it again because I have no better explanation; The girl needed it more than I did."
The call ends, and I watch him sigh and hold his head in frustration. Was I that selfish not to see that he might need that painting for real? That he might be in the same position as me? I knew that his team's popularity was depleting, and he’s been worried sick because of it, but I never took into consideration the fact that he might be in that auction for this reason…How selfish can I be? I don’t deserve him.
I need air.
I don’t bother to change, and wearing my light blue night suit, I sneak out of the kitchen and, before putting on my shoes, get out of the house where the warm air touches my skin.
*********
I walk, then run, then jog, and then walk some more until I reach Central Park. I blast rock music on my headphones which I brought with me and begin jogging on the track, ignoring all the judgmental glances I’m getting. I need to clear my head. I need to let my self-hatred out and not let it cloud my decisions. Not like I have made any wise ones recently.
I jog faster when suddenly a stone appears out of nowhere, causing my ankle to tilt 180 degrees. A jolt of pain shoots across my ankle, and I fall on the dusty track. Great. Just great. As I’m pressing my aching foot and considering possible ways I could reach home, a shadow hovers above me. When I look up, I see Ethan, breathless and worried. Very worried. What is he doing here, and how in the world did he find me?
"What are you- Ouch!" I try to stand, but the pain in my ankle wins.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, just scoops me up from the ground in one clean swoop. I shriek but don’t fight much. It’s not like I have any other options right now. He walks towards a nearby bench, holding me against his chest before placing me gently on it. I miss his touch as soon as it leaves me.
I stare at his ruffled hair, his worried face, and then at his strong hands, which are currently stroking my sprained ankle gently. Why is he doing this? Did I not put him and his team in peril and steal the art piece from him? So why?
"Does it hurt too much?"
"It does a little…." I lie.
"Can you walk?”
"I don't know," I say, looking away in embarrassment.
Without warning, he picks me up again and walks until we reach his parked car. I watch him without hiding it in any way, and I am pretty sure he’s aware of it, but not once does he look toward me. What is he thinking?
