Consider Me (Playing For Keeps Book 1)

CARTER

“SO I GUESS that means no making out in the back row at the movies, huh?”

Her quiet giggle makes me smile. “We don’t really have to go.”

“What? No, fuck that. Frozen II, right? We’re going.” I dig in my pocket, pull out my phone, and flip through to the cinema app. “Let’s pick a date right now. I’ll buy the tickets.”

“But—”

“Listen,” I cut her off. “Are you telling me never, Ollie, or are you open to the possibility of a future if I prove you can trust me?”

Her teeth skim her bottom lip. “Well, I guess I did beat you three games in a row…”

“I let you win,” I lie, then clap my palm over her mouth when she opens it to argue. “Okay, I leave on a road trip in two days, so we can go when I get back.”

She rips my hand away, hanging onto my fingers as she drops it to her lap and scooches closer to me, face hanging over my phone. “Somebody’s eager,” she mumbles, then taps on a date. “That Friday could work if you guys are off.”

“We are.” It’s our bye week, actually, which is our mandated five-day break. It’s going to be a busy weekend for reasons neither Cara nor Olivia knows about yet, but will by tomorrow.

“But it’s a Friday night, so if you’re, um…busy, then I totally—” Her mouth shuts when I hit the purchase button.

Flashing a grin, I tap her nose. “It’s a date, pip-squeak. Now drink another beer and tell me where in Ontario you grew up.”

Olivia sinks against me with a wistful sigh. “I’m from Muskoka.”

“Ah, cottage country.” I stare out at the horizon. “No wonder you fell asleep out here.”

“We don’t have mountains, but this is…wow.” It’s like she’s stuck somewhere far off, dreaming while she stares with wonder out at the sky. “It’s the only time I’ve seen as many stars as I used to every night at home.”

“How’d you wind up all the way out here?”

She sets her beer down, bouncing side to side, and her face lights like she’s gearing up to tell me her favorite story.

“Okay, so, my brother—he’s four years older than me,” she touches my hand, “—came out here for school and decided he never wanted to come home again. When I graduated from high school, I came to spend the summer with him and his girlfriend—she was pregnant, one-night stand, but now they’re married.” She waves a hand around. “You know, true love, fairy tale bullshit. But anyway, not the point.”

I could listen to her tell stories all day.

“So I came out here, and honestly, I fell in love. With everything, all of it. I spent two months hiking and exploring, and I didn’t want to leave. I was all set to go to Toronto in September, but Kristin—my sister-in-law, she’s fantastic—was working at the university, pulled some strings and got me a meeting with admissions. It was sheer dumb luck they’d had someone pull back their acceptance the day before, and I got in. Flew home the next day, packed up my whole life, and drove out here three days later with my dad. I got assigned Cara as a roommate and that was the end of that. There was no turning back. She’d never let me leave now.”

Chuckling, I pick up her hand, pressing her palm to mine. The size difference is staggering. “I imagine Cara would be on the next plane out, ready to chase you down and drag you back here by your hair if you tried to leave her.”

Olivia’s nose scrunches with her giggle. “My mom’s tried a couple times. She still pretends she’s mad at me for leaving. I was still seventeen and such a quiet kid, a real homebody. The thought of moving to Toronto for school and being away from my parents terrified me, and there I was, suddenly packing up and moving across the country on a whim.”

She leans forward, gripping my hand. I don’t know why she gets so animated when she’s telling a story, but I love it. It also kinda feels like she’s dropping her walls, which I can definitely get behind.

“Mom refused to say good-bye when we left, wouldn’t look at me, hug me, nothing. But then she chased the car down the street, screaming at my dad to stop. She sobbed in my arms for twenty-seven minutes before she let me go. My dad timed it.”

I make a face, one that makes her giggle some more. “Sounds like something my mom would do. They can never meet. You can’t put two crazy moms in a room.”

“Crazy moms are the best, though.”

I sigh. “No one will ever love you the same way a crazy mom does.” Or a supportive dad. You know, the I’m-your-biggest-fan kind. I had one of those, and I miss him.

An hour and a half later, the beers are gone, and Olivia’s buzzing happily beside me, a permanent lazy grin etched on her face.

“Think my party’s over,” I murmur after several minutes of slamming car doors, hollering friends before they climb into cabs.

Olivia blows out a long exhale and lays her head in my lap. I don’t hesitate to bury my fingers in her hair. It’s soft and silky and thick as hell. I twirl the tip of one curl around my pointer finger and try not to think about how it might feel to wrap all of it around my fist while I bury another body part inside of her.

I try not to think about it, but I’m a man, and she’s one hell of a woman.

“I didn’t mean to hog you up here,” she tells me.

I smile down at her, beyond tempted to bend my neck, coax my tongue into her mouth, taste her once more. “No better way to spend the first couple hours of the new year.”

“I’m not ready to leave,” she admits with a yawn and a stretch.

Fan-fucking-tastic, because I’m not ready to watch her go.

“Then don’t. Sleep over.”

Olivia doesn’t hesitate to throw an arm up, pinching the first bit of my body she can get her grubby little fingers on. It happens to be my nipple.

“Ow, you little shit.” I smack a protective palm over my injured nipple. Olivia doesn’t look the least bit apologetic, which promptly leads to me curling overtop of her, tickling her ribs while she squeals with laughter until she’s a wheezing mess, writhing around on my lap, begging me to stop, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Holding her wrists over her head, I drop my face until the tips of our nose touch.

“No pinching,” I whisper.

I want to do it, but it’s her that tips her chin, brushing her lips across mine. Just barely. Just a touch. Just enough that a tingle of excitement races down my spine, reminding me how much I like kissing her. How she feels so different than every other woman before her.

I pull her up with me, watching the blanket pool at her feet as she adjusts her dress around her thighs and shivers. Taking her hand, I lead her into my bedroom, closing out the cold behind us.

“Think of it more like a slumber party. We could watch a movie, and you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take a spare.”

I pull her toward the four-poster bed, enjoying the way she shuffles along behind me as if trying to disguise her eagerness.

“Come on, Ollie.” I pat the mattress. “Have a feel.”

Her wide eyes bounce between me and the bed. Moving behind her, I press her palms to the mattress, covering her hands with mine.

My lips touch her ear. “It’s a Hypnos. Oprah sleeps on one.”

She makes a sound deep in her throat, one I some day hope to hear while we’re rolling around together, naked, preferably in this very bed. She peers at me from over her shoulder, licking her lips before taking the bottom one between her teeth.

“But…I don’t…have any pajamas,” she settles on. “Or a toothbrush.”

“I’ll get you both,” I say with a smile, watching the way her fingers dust across the soft bedding, her chest sinking lower to the mattress with the gentle guide of my hand on her lower back. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning and maybe we could…talk…more.”

She presses up on her toes and rests a knee on the mattress. “What will you make me?”

“Waffles. French toast. Bacon. Eggs. I’ll make you a fucking turkey dinner if you want, just get in the damn bed.”

Olivia folds over with laughter, fisting the covers. I grab her hips, tossing her onto the bed. She rolls with a yelp and a giggle, collapsing onto her back, starfishing in the middle of the bed.

“Oh fuck,” she moans. Ah, shit. My poor dick. He’s jumping around behind my zipper, because she’s in my bed, moaning. Sweeping her arms out, she drawls out, “This is amaaaziiing.”

I know that, of course. Cost me fifteen grand, taxes in. You read that right. Fifteen fucking grand on a mattress, and it’s worth every penny.

Hands in my pocket, I watch her with a smile, taking her in while she rolls around, testing it out. She’s not bothered when the door handle jiggles, or when Cara calls out to her.

“Livvie?” Cara knocks five times in rapid succession, followed by two softer knocks. “You in there, babe?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh? Well, get out here. We’re going home.”

Sitting up, Olivia’s gaze floats to the door. She twists, looking to me like she doesn’t know what the hell to do, like she wants me to make the decision for her. I can’t, obviously. If it was my choice, I’d keep her here until she had to go back to work. We’d also be naked the entire time, trying out a few choice gymnastic moves.

I heave a sigh, plowing a hand through my hair, shaking it out. “If you don’t want to stay, it’s okay.”

Her lips part, head tipping to the side to study me. “Um, I’m going to…” The corner of her mouth lifts. “Stay.”

I clap my hands together and scream out a silent yes! before divebombing the bed, wrapping my arms around her, rolling her around in some sort of weird hug while she laughs wildly. I finally jump up and jog across the room to my dresser, where I pull out a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I hold the pants up in question; they’re going to swallow her whole. She makes a face and shakes her head.

“What the fuck? Carter Beckett, are you in there?” Cara shakes the handle. “Carter, open this fucking door right now! Em, kick it down! Keep your dick out of my best friend’s palace!”

Throwing my shirt to Olivia, I hit the lock and whip the door open, gesturing at my body with the sweep of my arm. “I’m fully dressed, and my dick is in my pants, right where it belongs, thank you very much.”

Cara appears both unimpressed and shocked. Emmett, on the other hand, grins from ear to ear as he pokes his head into the room. He doubles over with laughter when he spies Olivia on the bed. He’s clearly wasted.

“Oh my God,” Olivia croons, on her knees in the center of my bed, holding my shirt to her body. “Care, look! He gave me his shirt to sleep in. It’s gonna be a dress on me!”

Cara’s jaw drops, gaze moving between us. She holds her hands up. “What in the fuck is going on here?”

“I’m just gonna sleep.” Olivia ditches the shirt and lifts the blankets, sliding beneath them. Her head disappears between the pillows until all I can see are her arms, which she holds high in the air. “I kicked Carter Beckett out of his own bed. Somebody take a picture! I don’t think this has ever happened before!”

It hasn’t. I do a lot of shit with Olivia I’ve never had a desire to do with anyone else.

Olivia bounces with the weight of Emmett’s body when it hits the mattress. The two of them snuggle up as he holds his phone above their heads, snapping a picture while they snicker like a couple of fools. I kinda wanna crawl in there.

Scratch that. I really wanna crawl in there. And kick my best bud the hell out.

Cara points a finger in my face, the look she hits me with as terrifying as it always is. “I’m too drunk to yell at you. If you hurt her, be prepared to eat your own dick. I’ve heard it’s huge, so it’s a good thing you have a big appetite.” Her crazed eyes move between mine. “Got it, Carter?”

Holding up two fingers, I pledge, “I solemnly swear I will not hurt Olivia Parker.”

She pats my chest and turns back to the bed where her best friend and boyfriend are still bouncing around. “It’s like I have kids sometimes.” She stalks over, dragging Emmett off the bed and kissing Olivia’s cheek. “Have fun, be safe, and don’t make any stupid decisions.”

Olivia salutes her. “Yes, Mom.”

Cara rolls her eyes but laughs, strutting by me, and Emmett shuts the door with the pump of his brows. A minute later, the front door opens and closes, leaving the house eerily quiet.

I never thought I’d be here tonight, alone with Olivia, especially not in my bed.

Her curls are a wild mess, blankets pooling around her waist. She’s like the antichrist, sitting there in bed, everything about her dark—hair, gaze, dress—a stark contrast to all of the fluffy white bedding. Nothing but terrible, filthy, downright naughty thoughts run through my mind. Antichrist.

“You made me get you pajamas and you’re gonna sleep in your dress?”

Her grin is slow, all devil, as she slips out of the bed. “I was waiting for Cara to leave so I could peel it off.”

I swallow my tongue, watching her stroll toward me with all the confidence in the world. And I get the hell out of the way.

“’Kay. I’ll, uh…” I thumb toward the door. “Give you some privacy.”

I reach for the handle, and Olivia’s hand comes down hard on the wood, slamming it shut the moment it opens. The hair on my nape rises as she flicks the lock, and I don’t have a single clue what to do. I’m standing here like a jackass, gaze glued to the locked door, because I cannot fucking look at this woman right now if I’m going to keep it in my pants. I’m about two seconds away from tackling her to the bed and ripping that dress right off her.

The energy in the room is about as electrically charged as the nine inches of titanium straining behind my zipper right now.

I puff out a heavy exhale, sagging with relief at the click of the bathroom door behind me. Sinking to the edge of the bed, I stare up at the ceiling, praying for some much-needed self-restraint.

Painfully adjusting the bulge in my pants, I try to kill the mood by talking about feelings. “Uh, hey, Ollie,” I call out weakly. Shaking my head, I drag my hands down my face. “I think we should talk about, um…” Sweet Christ, this is painful.

“I like you,” I blurt out for at least the second time. I’m talking to a door. “I was thinking…maybe we could…I could maybe…maybe you can learn to trust me, you know, give me a chance, if I show you…you can trust me…” It’s barely a whisper by the time I reach the end because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.

Silence.

And then: “Tomorrow.”

I leap to my feet. “What?”

“We can talk tomorrow. After you make me a turkey dinner for breakfast.”

Fucking yes. I look down at my main man. He’s not deflating any time soon. He’s about as excited as I am. “Hear that, big buddy?” I whisper eagerly to him. “We’re fucking gettin’ somewhere!”

“Carter?” Olivia calls. “Can you help me?”

Dashing across the room, I pause with my hand on the knob. I’m about to ask if she’s decent, but then she opens the door, takes my hand, pulls me in, and I almost die when she speaks.

“I need you to unzip me.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuck.

“Carter.” Olivia’s fingers twine with mine. “I need you to look at me if you’re going to help me.”

Oh. Right. I’m looking at my feet. I chuckle. It comes out a fuckload anxious and high-pitched, and I run my hand down my chest before I finally raise my head and twirl a finger in the air. “Turn around, gorgeous.” Confidence comes and goes, apparently.

When our eyes meet in the mirror, she smiles at me. It’s cute and a little loopy from the drinks and the sleep she probably needs. When her teeth sink into her lower lip, my grin explodes. She’s a little tease and I’m pretty sure she knows it.

I sweep her silky, loose curls off her back, laying them over her shoulder, before I trail a finger down her neck to her dress, right where her—

“Uh, Ol. There’s…there’s no zipper back here. Your dress is…” I pull on the soft, deep forest fabric, watching it stretch from her back with ease, giving me a glimpse of the flawless, creamy skin lurking beneath. “Stretchy.”

“Oh, right.” Her expression is all sweet devil when our gazes lock in the reflection. She didn’t forget about her lack of zipper. Her ruby red lips part with a beam, goofy and beautiful. “Oops.”

Oops…

Oops?

This is also the moment I catch sight of the satin blush bra on the corner of my bathroom countertop.

Oh fuck.

Oops is fucking right.

I’m about to make a big fucking oops.