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The kiss has my knees shaking and my body on fire, still I carry on. I run my hands up the back of his neck and pull him closer. This is much more intimate than in the restaurant because I’m well aware there’s a nice comfortable bed only a door — well, two doors — away.
His fingers glide up and down my sides before he cups my bottom and pulls me up. He’s so hard. The ache flaming inside my neglected body reminds me it’s been way too long since I’ve felt satisfaction with a man — withthisman.
The longer he touches me, the more I’m reminded of our night in the limo. It was amazing — that was, until he dismissed me so callously. This situation isn’t good. When he pulls back, his eyes are dilated and his breathing heavy.
“Good night, Olivia.”
Tyler shocks me when he turns my key in the door, pushes me inside, shuts the door, and walks away. I don’t move for at least two minutes. My breathing takes that long to get under control. If each meeting with Tyler leaves me this off balance, I really should abort this mission. Then again, I’ve never been a quitter.
ChapterEleven
Tyler
“Do you want company?”
Olivia chokes on the bite of sandwich she just bit into when I make my sudden appearance in front of her. I quickly pat her back, and she finally manages to swallow and reach for her drink.
“What are you doing here, Tyler?”
“I was in the area and saw you sitting here,” I say. I join her on the bench once I’m sure I’m not going to have to give her the Heimlich maneuver.
“You were in the park,thispark, on a Tuesday afternoon?”
I smile as I watch her trying to process why I’m here. I’m not one to leave things in the air. It didn’t take me long to figure out Olivia’s last name, and from there to figure out where she works — and where she enjoys eating lunch.
We’ve been seeing each other for three weeks, and I have no doubt she’s messing with me. We’ve only been out a few times. Most of our interaction has been over the phone, and she still shares nothing about herself with me. I should cut my losses and walk away, but I can’t seem to do that.
“Yes, I come here often,” I say. “It’s a great place to run, or to eat lunch. Sometimes I enjoy sitting on a bench to let my mind clear of all of the chaos from a busy day.”
“I... um... didn’t realize you worked around here,” she finally mutters.
“We’ve never talked about my work, so how would you know where I spend my days?” I can see I’ve flustered her. Does she or doesn’t she know who I am? That’s the mystery.
“I guess that makes sense,” she says, quickly recovering with a forced laugh. Then she places her hand on my leg and gently rubs. Her ploy of touching me so I’ll quit asking questions almost works. I want this woman so badly I’m pretty much walking around with a permanent erection. But it’s my turn to be in control. Though her touch sends flames through my body, I’m also aware that my touch causes her intelligence to short circuit. I grab her hand and wind my fingers through hers.
The problem with all of the physical contact is I’m not sure who it affects more, me or her. Only time will tell. Iwillhave this woman, though — that’s something I have no doubt about.
“You must work nearby,” I say, looking out toward a group of office buildings.
“Yes, not far from here. If it’s a nice day, and that isn’t often, I enjoy coming to the park for lunch and a walk. I’m ready for a little exercise,” she says, pulling her hand away and gathering up what’s left of her takeout meal.
“I have time,” I tell her. “I’ll walk with you. Then you can show me where you work.” I once again link our hands together.
“If I take you by my workplace, the mystery will be gone. Things won’t be nearly as exciting,” she says.
“At what point do we simply open up?” I ask, stopping her when we come to a stand of trees. I walk her a little off the trail so we can have some privacy.
“What’s the rush, Tyler? We’re having a good time,” she says.
“I’m not in a hurry, Olivia. I just want to know a little more about the woman I plan on taking to my bed.”
“Do you always know the women you take to your bed?” I’m taken aback by the hostility of this question.
“Since I’ve grown up, I do,” I say with hesitation.
“So not always.” It isn’t a question.
“No, not always. You know what they say about boys being boys,” I tell her with a laugh I don’t feel.
