by Zoe Norman
I finish stretching and start off running down the trail of a nearby park. My job demands that I stay in shape, and running helps to clear my head. I see a few familiar faces, ones I see most mornings but have no relationship with. Relationships…
What the hell am I doing with Olivia? I'm not a relationship guy. I like playing the field and having different girls on rotation. Variety is the spice of life and all that shit, right? Yet the prospect of seeing Caroline, Myrna, or Jessica (my usual flings) again doesn't turn me on even the littlest bit. I need my independence, but I'm finding that I need Olivia just as much.
After running until my body and mind are exhausted, I circle back to my corner coffee shop and order two black coffees, a piece of coffee cake, a blueberry loaf, and a couple of yogurt parfaits to go. I exit the shop and make my way back to my apartment, knowing that the woman inside it will change my life. I'm ready to do this, to try this “relationship” thing out again. Lord knows I've fucked it up in the past, but that was then. If you don't let your past die, then your future won't let you live.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Olivia
I am absently looking at myself in the foggy mirror of Owen's bathroom. I just took a shower, and now I am standing here with a towel around my body and another one in my hair. I'm realizing that I don't have anything to use to get ready with at Owen's apartment. No makeup, no hair products. Fuck. Way to think ahead, Olivia. I don't even have clean clothes. I pick up Owen's toothbrush and brush my teeth. Hopefully he won't mind, although from where he put his mouth last night, I should hope my mouth wouldn't cause him alarm.
Last night. What did I do wrong? He obviously was having a nightmare, and even more obvious was that he knew about it. He must be having flashbacks, which is common in firefighters. I should know. I've been studying them. I sometimes forget that my inherent nature is to ask questions when these things happen, and I realize now I should have just kept my mouth shut, although he did a fairly good job of shutting me up.
I spent several hours watching him until he fell asleep—and even afterward while trying to figure out what to do. He was clearly upset with me. I contemplated leaving. I contemplated staying. And in the end, my exhaustion kept me where I was. But I had every intention of leaving first thing in the morning, preferably before he woke up. I figure maybe this is too real. This was fun in Seattle where there had been no expectation of more, but maybe having me in his space is too much, and I can understand that. It scares me too.
This morning he sent me a text:
Morning, beautiful. Went for a run.
Make yourself at home.
Be back in an hour with breakfast. XO
That kind of surprised me. I decided it would be rude to just leave if he was bringing breakfast. Instead, I got showered and dressed. Then I'd eat, just thank him for his time, and leave. Yeah, that's really the best thing to do.
I rummage under his cabinet, feeling intrusive but desperate to find something to dry my hair with. I find a hair dryer. I try hard to push the thought of why he would have a hair dryer, out of my mind. I'm sure I'm not the only woman to have gotten ready in his bathroom. I let my hair fall from the towel it's currently wrapped in, bending at the waist, and dry it. The loud noise is welcoming as it feels like it clears my head a bit. I want so badly to not be so invested in this that I'll get hurt. He told me he wouldn't hurt me. But somehow, in moments like this, I realize that it is a very real possibility that he will hurt me, and that's terrifying. Maybe that's what had him out of sorts last night. I suppose that, when you have a vulnerability, it's scary to have that exposed to someone you don't know well.
I flip my hair back and jump with a yelp. Owen is leaning against the doorframe, staring at me with a lazy smile on his face.
“Hey there,” he grins, his eyes roaming my body.
I clutch my towel to my chest as I place the hair dryer back. I blush like I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. He looks at me like we've known each other forever. I'm so confused.
“Hi yourself,” I reply, trying not to sound too warm. I don't want him to think I'm overstaying my welcome or, frankly, that I've forgotten the unease of our last interaction.
“I...um, I'm sorry I kind of took over your bathroom. I didn't mean to rummage through your stuff. I just… My first instinct was to take a shower, but I forgot…um, I don't have stuff with me.” I shuffle my feet and look at the ground, feeling like a moron. I finally meet his eyes. “I'll be out of your way soon. I'm sorry. I'm, um, not sure what I say here.” My instinct to run is crawling over me like ants all over my skin, but he's blocking the doorway.
His face changes from sweet to unsure. “Out of my way? I did say to make yourself at home, didn't I?” he asks with confusion in his voice.
I can't make eye contact with him. It's too unnerving.
Suddenly, he steps out of the bathroom doorway. I hear him rummaging in his drawer, so I step into the door space to see what he's doing. He grabs a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
“Here,” he says, handing me the clothes. “You can put those on. I can bring you back to your place after breakfast if you'd like, but I'd like you to stay. We can go out and do something together. What do you say?” His voice is hopeful, and I am now completely out of my element.
I step forward and take the shorts and t-shirt from him, confused. “You want me to stay?” I ask as I look around, wondering what the protocol is for getting dressed. I finally decide on just dropping my towel and going for it.
Whether he wants me or not, it doesn't change that he's already seen all of my bits—several times actually. I drop my towel and hear a faint, “Wow,” from his lips as I bend over to grab the shirt from his bed. I try and stifle a grin. I can still like that sound, right?
I put the shirt on and knot it at my waist since it's far too long for me. I pull on the shorts, sans panties—those were long ago destroyed by Owen—and tie the drawstring tight in an effort to keep them on my hips. I probably look ridiculous. I run my fingers through my partially dried hair in an attempt to look less crazy. When I am finished dressing, I right myself and look at him, skepticism surely written across my face. I'm intrigued but confused by his wanting to do something with me today. Maybe I should just tell him that.
“Owen, I…I don't mean to… You didn't seem very happy to have me here last night. I just… I don't want you to feel like you have to… I mean, I'm a big girl. If you don't want me here...” I start scuffling my feet on the floor again. Why do I always feel like I sound like a thirteen-year-old?
I watch him as he pulls his half-zip and shirt off over his head, tossing them towards the clothes hamper. He stands in front of me in just his shorts, running his hands nervously over his bare chest and eventually resting them on his hips. He looks…tormented.
“Yeah, about that…” he starts. “Listen, I was an asshole last night. I have nightmares, as you saw, and…to be honest, I'm, uh…well, embarrassed about it. I'm not used to someone being around to witness that and I reacted badly.” He moves his head side to side as if weighing his thoughts. “Really badly actually. I'm sure you were probably scared and my snapping at you didn't help.” He walks toward me, and my eyes get wider as he gets closer. I am frozen in my place, completely unsure what to do. I was not expecting this conversation to go like this. He takes my hands and pulls me to sit on his lap on the bed.
“I apologize for how I reacted and I'm sorry you had to see that.” He looks down at my hands in his. He links our fingers together and squeezes mine. “I want to spend more time with you, Olivia. And I most definitely want you here.”
I look down at my hands in his. It's almost comical how we're both avoiding eye contact. “Owen, I've worked with servicemen for years, talking to them about the things that keep them up at night. I know where that comes from. But more importantly I know it's a strongly personal thing, and I don't want to make you feel like you need to pull me into that part of you if you're not ready.” My eye
s find his and I run my finger down his cheek and across his jaw. “I want to spend time with you too, Owen, I really do.”
He leans forward, tilting his head slightly and kissing me gently on the lips. My heart is racing from the combination of the intensity of the conversation and my sincere hope that we will work it out. Even though that seems to be the direction it's going, I'm still wary.
“Good. It's settled then. You'll spend the day with me,” he announces. Then he plants a kiss on my lips, slides me off his lap, and starts to walk toward the bathroom. “Hot coffee and breakfast await you in the kitchen, beautiful. I'm going to hop into the shower.” He takes off his shorts and boxers, throwing them in the general direction of the hamper, giving me an impromptu peepshow.
I smile as I watch him walk into the bathroom. When he is safely inside his shower, I turn in search of breakfast, hoping that I'm making right the decision by staying today.
* * *
The afternoon is amazing. After breakfast, we made a quick stop at a store to trade in the pair of his flip-flops I was wearing for some sneakers and socks. Owen insisted on paying, and I wasn't going to complain. With proper footwear in place, we decided to go walking around Park Slope to look at the shops and then to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. I can't believe after all these years I have never gone, and it's breathtaking. I feel like we're a couple as we walk through the gardens, holding hands, sneaking kisses behind the plant displays. Owen can be very playful when he feels relaxed, and we spent a lot of time laughing and chasing each other around. Owen frequently makes fun of the fact that I am still wearing his clothes. He's getting a real kick out of this.
As dusk begins to fall, we start to walk back toward his apartment. The walk is long, but it is so nice out. On the way, we decide to pick up some items from the corner deli and take them back to Owen's place to eat for dinner. After setting up a spot for us on the floor in front of his coffee table, we stretch out our legs, eat, and laugh. It's so easy to be with him when he's like this, when he's not guarded.
I put my arms above my head stretching after taking my last bite of my enormous pastrami sandwich. With my arms outstretched, I look down at my stomach.
“Mmmm, that was so good. I have a pastrami baby… Wow.” We both start laughing. As we collect ourselves, I notice Owen staring at me. “Thank you for today. It was really nice. I enjoyed myself,” I say, giving him a smile to convey I really mean the sentiment.
“It was really nice. Thanks for spending the day with me. Wearing my clothes and all.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Without a doubt, the best second date I've had. When can we do it again?”
I laugh and smile. “Soon.”
“Good enough for me,” he says, leaning forward to kiss me. His hand comes behind my neck, pulling me towards him so we're lying side by side on the floor.
He runs his hands down my arm, my side, my leg, placing his hand behind my knee. He then hitches my leg over his hip, the whole time kissing me softly. I roll him onto his back, my full weight on him. I feel his erection pressing against my stomach, and I groan into his mouth.
He kisses down my neck and mumbles between kisses, “This. Floor. Is. Killing. My. Back.”
I laugh and put my hands on his chest, pushing off of him. “Let's go to bed.” I stand up and reach my hand out to help pull him up.
His playful grin is one I've seen several times today, and I am really growing to love it. It's sweet and sexy, and as I'm learning, it usually ends up with something that makes me feel good. I walk him back into his bedroom, but as he goes to walk up to me and wrap his arms around me, I put my hand out to stop him. Owen furrows his brow, confused. I give him my sly sexy grin and pull the string holding his shorts up precariously on my hips. I have not forgotten I have no panties on, although I suspect he has.
I hand him the end of the string, urging him to “unwrap” me. “Give it a tug, Owen” I purr in a soft sultry voice.
He pulls on the string and the all-too-big-for-me shorts drop and pool at my feet. “Ahhh...I forgot about this nice little surprise,” he coos, circling me. As he comes behind me, he gives me a swift, sharp smack on my butt and I let out a surprised yelp. “Do you like a little smack on that perfect ass now and then, Olivia?” he asks, lust in his voice but also a smile playing over his lips as he circles back around to stand in front of me.
“Ye...yes,” I murmur, clearing my throat as my breathing increases with anticipation.
He moves in front of me, and with his eyes locked on mine, he carefully undoes the knot in the t-shirt at my waist. He lifts the shirt over my head and throws it to the floor. He is standing there staring at me and his expression changes, his eyes going soft. Wow. He seems almost…loving?
“You take my breath away,” he whispers as he reaches a hand out and skims his fingers lightly against the side of my breast.
I inhale sharply and my nipples grow hard under his touch. With his fingers continuing down my side, he falls to his knees in front of me. He taps my ankle to have me step out of the shorts that are still at my feet.
I smile down at him and run my hand through his hair. Still looking me in the eyes, he leans forward and plants a faint kiss on my lower belly. As he rises to his feet again, he continues to place little kisses up my belly, between my breasts, over my collarbone. I tilt my head, allowing him better access to my neck, and he suckles on the sensitive skin just under my ear. I can't help but let out a little moan. His hands skim my body, worshiping me. I grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes, smiling as he does. He looks so carefree and young, and it's dazzling. Stepping back slightly, he lets me finish what I started. Then I slide my hands under his shorts, over his hips, pushing them down. He kicks them off, standing just in his boxers in front of me. I see his semi-erect penis, and I smile.
I look back up at him and smile at him. This is very different than the many other times we've had sex. I know what's coming, but for some reason, it doesn't feel like we need to get it over with before one of us loses our nerve. I don't know about him, but I want something slow. I need to reconnect with him. I need to figure out if we can do this as a couple and not just two people looking to get laid. We have had a day filled with revelations, and I want to see where this moment can take us too. In some ways, we have made a new kind of commitment to each other today. I have committed to allow him to let me in to his head, his secrets, at the pace that works for him, and he has made a commitment to open up to me when it feels right and safe. It's an unspoken agreement, but a powerful one nevertheless.
I take a step forward and wrap my arms around his neck. He is already pushing his boxers off, and as I get closer to him, his erection bounces up to greet me, rubbing against my thigh. I am significantly shorter than him, but he bends and kisses me. So tenderly, so softly. His lips are tender against mine, coaxing me for more as he offers me his tongue, and his arms slide around my waist. I oblige and we kiss softly, quietly, just touching each other, enjoying each other.
He guides me toward the bed, and when I feel the mattress hit the backs of my knees, I let him slowly lay me down. I scoot back on the bed and he follows me up, lying next to me at my side. He places a leg over mine and just…kisses me, our hands linked together. A lot. It's so oddly erotic and intimate.
He kisses down my neck, over my collarbone, to my breasts. He takes my nipple in his mouth and suckles, eliciting a moan from me almost instantaneously. It's interesting to me that we've barely touched each other and I'm more turned on than when we had hot sex in the bathroom at the club in Seattle. It's true that there is something to be said for what happens in the mind during sex. That it's where sexuality starts, and I'm seeing that in full force tonight.
He continues his kisses across my chest and repeats the same treatment to my other nipple. I run my hand in his hair, pulling as my body responds to his touch. I reach one hand down, gripping him tightly in my hand. He groans, pushing into
me. I stroke him gently, firmly, alternating pressure and he moves with me as if we've done this before. Without thinking, I move my hips to the rhythm of my hand, and I'm finding it harder and harder to not have him inside me.
I wrap my other leg over his hip and urge him to lie back so I can straddle him. I sit back on his thighs, reaching over to the bedside table to grab a condom. His erection, which is lying heavily against his stomach, is rigid and straining, lifting slightly every time I move near it. I slide the condom over him, careful to not instigate an orgasm as it is clear that he is close. We haven't said a word other than little gasps and moans and it's more intense than if we had been dirty talking the whole time. He holds out his hands for me to grasp and I rise, positioning him under me and then slowly sliding onto his rigid length. He closes his eyes as I do, a huff of breath leaving his parted lips.
“Olivia…” he whispers.
He opens his eyes and slides his hands over my hips, cradling my ass and helping me rise and fall over him. He suddenly sits up and pulls my legs to wrap around his back. He lifts slightly to adjust his sitting position and we are suddenly face to face. I gasp as this position pushes him deep, deep, deep inside me. I wrap my arms around his neck, and we gaze at each other as we rock, sliding him in and out of me in small increments, allowing me to feel every inch of him. His hands faintly trace my back.
“This is… This is so…” he stammers, looking confused and lustful at the same time.
“I know… I know…” I respond. I understand what he's feeling. It's without words, but it's intense and palpable.