6
INFLATE MY EGO
Carter
I’M ON THAT POST WIN high, oating on air and feeling invincible. It’s a heady, addicting feeling, a hunger I want to feed, and Christ, do I ever know exactly how I want to feed it.
Apparently, though, Emmett’s hopes aren’t as high as mine.
“Liv’s gonna hollow your eyes out with a spork,” he says, toweling o in the change room.
Seems like something she would do. But still, I ask, “Why?”
“Why do you think?”
It could be a plethora of reasons. Everything I do seems to piss her o. But if I had to take a wild guess… “Because I landed her on the jumbotron?”
“Bingo.”
I sweep my arms out. “I only showed the world how beautiful she is.”
Adam snorts. “That’s good. Save it for when she’s jabbing your eyes out with that spork. Might be your saving grace.”
Emmett shakes his head but laughs. “You also told the entire world her name.”
“Oh come on.” I plant my hands on my hips, because really, if I can’t name her in the postgame interview when one reporter asked who she was, then what the fuck is this all about? “What girl wouldn’t love that?”
I’m trying to win points here, and personally, I think I’m o to a good start. I could read her fury from a mile away. Why was she furious? Because I’m
relentless and I drive her nuts? Possibly. But I think it’s mostly because she wants me and she fucking hates that she does.
“This is the girl that turned you down last weekend?” Garrett asks.
Emmett grins. “Twice.”
“She didn’t turn me down.” I rue my wet hair with my towel before shoving a toque over it.
“Twice.” The two ngers he shoves in my face are unnecessary.
“We’re just getting to know each other.” I shrug. “So she’s a little hesitant.”
“Dude. When you oered her your number, she said ‘that’s gonna be a no from me’ and slammed the door in your face.”
Garrett guaws. “No. She Randy Jackson’d you? That’s hilarious. Must’ve kept you up all night.”
Okay, so it was funny. Once I got through a moment of stunned silence, I couldn’t wipe the grin o my face. There’s something about Olivia that’s piqued my interest. It’s not just her sass or sarcasm, but her softness, lurking just beneath the surface. I’d bet she spits all that re to keep her resolve from crumbling around her like a sandcastle. She strikes me as an all-or-nothing kinda girl, which is probably why one-night stands aren’t her thing.
I don’t care. I’m just trying to make me her thing.
Maybe that’s why the rst place my gaze goes when we reach the bar is that wild mane of dark chocolate curls, the caramel bits weaving throughout. She looks like an ice cream fucking sundae, and all I wanna do is taste her.
I slip through the crowed, ignoring the people who want to chat, following the sound of Cara and Olivia’s bickering.
“Just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Oooh. Pretend it never happened. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Yeah, great advice, Care.” Olivia shimmies out of the booth. “I’ll pretend Carter Beckett didn’t name me on TV. I’ll pretend he didn’t dedicate a goal to me in front of all of North America.”
Cara lifts a brow, a smile that says she’s as much a fan of Olivia’s attitude as I am. “All right, tiger. Where are you going?”
Olivia tosses a hand up over her shoulder as she stalks o. “Need another drink.”
Shit, I like her. Like to watch her go… Literally, I lean to the right, watching those hips bounce as she moves across the bar. She’s got killer curves and a fantastic, round ass. Those jeans she’s wearing like a second skin paint a pretty picture of what’s hopefully in store for me one of these nights.
Emmett elbows my side before I take o after her. “Behave.”
I denitely could, but it’s not in my nature.
The sight of her, elbows on the bar, ass swaying gently back and forth as she hums along to the music, is a sight I could drink in all night. But I’m intent on putting a crack in that facade she likes so much, so I close the distance between us, smiling at the way Olivia stills, as if she senses me here.
I dip my mouth to her ear, reveling in the way she shivers. “Cold?”
She spins so quickly she stumbles over a stool as our gazes collide. She reaches out to me to steady herself, and I happily oblige, circling an arm around her waist. Wide eyes stare up at me, her chest heaving against me. I’m not ready to have my ass handed to me just yet, so I keep my observations on her reactions to
me to myself.
I do enjoy the show though.
And by show, I mean the way those deep brown eyes blaze a heated path over my face, dipping down my body, before slowly—so damn slowly—making their way back up, her teeth grazing her bottom lip, ngertips biting into my forearm.
“Are you done?”
She looks up at me, eyes bouncing between mine, brows knitted in confusion.
“Are you done, Olivia?” I repeat, releasing her waist before prying her ngers o my forearm. She’s left marks, but I don’t mind. I’ll let her carve her name into my skin if it gets me what I want, and what I want is her. “Checking me out?”
Her lips part, head wagging. “I—I… what? I wasn’t… checking you… what?”
Well, fuck me sideways and call me Sally. This is a rst. She sure knows how to pump my ego when it doesn’t need pumping.
Her gaze settles on my self-assured smile, and the moment ends sooner than I’d like when she rips herself free and spins around to the bar, back to ignoring
me like it’s her job.
Obviously, I take the spot next to her, ’cause getting a reaction outta her is fun. Also, I like being near her. She smells good and she’s warm. Plus, I love when she rewards my bad behavior with one of her signature eyerolls. I’ve never felt more deserving of anything.
She steps away, propping her cheek in her hand so she can glare at me, and I use the opportunity to check out her outt for the umpteenth time tonight.
She’s kicking ass in this outt, all tight tee, a ash of creamy skin peeking out above the waistband of her ripped jeans, a plaid shirt wrapped low around her hips, the Chuck Taylors on her feet the nishing touch.
I follow the swing of her hips when she juts one out, and my eyes fall to her stellar tits when she pins her arms there. I wouldn’t mind fucking those tonight.
When she arches one perfectly shaped brow, I smile.
“What? You can look but I can’t?” I prop my chin up on my st. “Those are called double standards, Olivia. Gender equality and all that.”
Her lips purse like she’s trying her damnedest not to smile. I wish she would.
I caught her doing it with Cara during the game and it lit up the whole place.
Wouldn’t mind being the reason for one of them.
Taking hold of the soft plaid sleeves tied around her waist, I haul her toward me. She comes willingly, ngers gliding up my forearms.
“How is it that as incredible as your outt was last weekend, you look even better in this? I mean, plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a pair of Chucks? Come on,”
I groan, dropping my head back. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece. I could just take you home and cuddle you all night long on my couch. What’s that term— Netix and chill?” I wind the sleeves around my sts and bend my neck, the tips of our noses grazing when she tilts her face up. “Come on, Olivia. Let’s do it.”
I tap the corner of her mouth, right where it’s quirking.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the way you’re gnawing on your lip right now is your desperate attempt at biting back that smile of yours. Come on, Liv. Let it out. Let that bad boy shine.”
She does, letting it explode across her face. She lets out the sweetest giggle, too, before slapping a palm across her traitorous mouth. “Oh fuck,” she whispers, twisting away.
I intercept the bartender before she can see him. Unfortunately, she turns just in time to catch me paying for the drinks he’s placed on the bar, and the smile
drops from her beautiful face.
“Hey! Those are for me and Cara.”
“And you can have them back when you give me the time of day.”
“I don’t need to give you anything and I certainly don’t need you to keep paying for my drinks.” Fists: meet hips. Those whiskey eyes narrow dangerously.
Olivia packs a surprisingly ferocious punch. “I have a job, you know.”
“Does your job pay thirteen million a year?”
“I’m not impressed by how much money you make.”
She truly looks like she couldn’t give less of a shit. She does, however, reach for the drinks, hopping up and down, rubbing against me as I hold them above
her head.
“What is it that you do, anyway?”
Olivia grumbles something I can’t quite make out, except for God, asshole, and sexy. Wish I caught the whole thing.
“Just forget it. I’ll get drinks back at the table.” She throws her hands in the air above her head like she’s done with me.
Thing is, though, I’m so far from being done with that woman. That’s why I’m only one step behind her as she stalks back to the booth.
“Did you call me a manwhore?” I ask as I slide in beside her, catching the tail end of her conversation with Cara.
“I would never call you something like that,” she insists, swiping her beer from my hand.
“Yeah.” Cara accepts her own drink with a smile. “She called you Mr.
Manwhore.”
Olivia hides her guilty grin behind the rim of her glass. “It’s much more distinguished.”
I give her elbow a gentle pinch. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”
“Me? You literally never stop.”
“I’m like a puppy,” I tell her.
“Annoying, untrained, and requires a lot of work?”
I lean into her, dropping my voice. “I’m exceptionally cute and I thrive on attention.”
Another giggle, genuine, sweet, and light, making me smile.
“That’s two,” I point out.
“Two what?”
“Two laughs I’ve gotten out of you tonight.”
Her brows rise as she sips her drink. “Mmm. Are we keeping score?”
“We are. I’m aiming for ten.”
“Well, good luck, buddy. That’s the last one I’m giving you.”
“We’ll see,” I murmur, eyes on Emmett as he comes bounding over.
“Ollie! Two weeks in a row!” He scoops her up, yanking her right from the booth, and wraps her in a hug I kinda wish I was on the giving end of. I wouldn’t mind seeing how she feels in my arms. When he stus her back into her seat, she topples sideways, gripping my thigh to catch herself.
It takes everything in me to gently guide her upright with my hand on her lower back, rather than suggesting we go fuck out this tension that’s been vibrating between us for a week now.
“Ollie?” I muse, and Cara starts tapping o nicknames on her ngers.
“Yeah, you know, Liv, Livvie, Ol, Ollie, Ollie Wallie. And of course, my personal favorite.” She tosses her head back and moans. “Oh, Miss Parkerrr.”
Heat radiates o the petite woman beside me as she buries her face behind her hands.
I skim my bottom lip with my thumb as I watch her. “Are you a teacher, Miss Parker?”
Her hands bracket her face as she stares down at the table. “No?”
“High school,” Cara claries. “All those senior boys wanna get between her luscious thighs.”
“No students are ever getting between—ugh.” There go her hands again, raking up and down her face.
Christ, she’s exactly the type of teacher I would’ve died to have in high school. Gorgeous, with a perfect, full ass and a snarky, sarcastic personality.
“I agree, Ollie. Besides the obvious, what you need is a man who knows how to take care of you.” My ngers walk up her thigh, and hers curl around my
bicep, gripping it to stay upright as the magnetism instinctively draws us closer.
“Someone who knows how to hit all the right… spots.”
A beat of silence stretches between us as I hold her gaze, the intrigue that dances in it, even if she doesn’t want to admit it does.
“Okay…” Out of the corner of my eye, Emmett waggles his nger between us.
“What’s going on here?”
Olivia blinks, spell broken as she shifts back, taking her warmth with her.
“Nothing,” she insists at the same time I declare, “Ollie’s playing hard to get.”
Cara swipes a loaded nacho chip through a cup of sour cream and points it at me. “She’s not playing. She is hard to get.”
Olivia jabs my shoulder. “And don’t call me Ollie. We barely know each other.”
“Right. Okay.” I slide out of the booth and tug on the tie around my neck, pulling it loose and ditching it in the booth. Olivia’s jaw drops when I spin away, and I grin, because she’s a damn liar, and I’m gonna prove it.
“You taking requests tonight?” I ask the DJ in the corner. “I’ve got some work to do.”
Back at the booth, Olivia watches with confusion as I roll my sleeves up to my elbows, unbutton my collar.
I hold my hand out to her. “Well, let’s go.”
“Pardon?”
I curl my ngers into my hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Angry heat pools in her cheeks. “I’ve already told you I’m not going home with you. You are unbelievable.”
Clapping my hands on the table, I groan, head dipping to catch her eyes.
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. We barely know each other, as you’ve said, so we’re going to start. Dance with me.”
“But I… I…” She looks to Cara for help, and when oered none, blurts, “I don’t dance.”
“Untrue. I watched you dance all night long last weekend. Trust me.” I rub my tired eyes, half burying my next words. “Couldn’t take my goddamn eyes o you.”
“She prefers to be halfway in the bag before she starts wiggling that ass of hers,” Cara chimes. “She’s only on her second beer.”
“Okay, so you don’t dance.” I wind her hanging plaid sleeve around my st, giving it a gentle tug. C’mon, Liv. “Do you turn down challenges, as well?”
There it is, the bite of her teeth into her tempting bottom lip, that quirk in the corner of her mouth that gives way to a slow explosion, the grin that ignites her entire face.
She slips her hand into mine, and I know.
I’ve got her.
