Consider Me (Playing For Keeps Book 1)
Consider Me: Chapter 21

CARTER

I SEE her the second she walks through the door.

You can’t miss her. Gorgeous little thing that steals in the doorway, my heart stops beating at the sight of her.

I watch Emmett wrap her in his arms before he starts sliding her coat off, revealing the dress that took Olivia three trips to the mall to replace. Don’t ask me how I know that.

She’s stunning, but she always has been. Absurdly so, and tonight is no different. She could be wearing my hockey bag zipped up to her neck with armhole cutouts and she’d still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad. I make a mental note to ask her to pose naked with all my hockey equipment in the near future. I’m gonna take a fuckload of pictures of that woman. My phone’s gonna be full of Olivia.

But she’s not wearing a hockey bag. Fuck. No. She’s not. This dress. Sweet, holy fuckballs, this dress.

“Shit.” I don’t know if it’s Garrett or Adam who breathes the only word I can think of. They’re both staring, brows slowly climbing their foreheads as they follow the line of her petite body down, down, down, and then back up, gazes lingering on her plunging neckline the same way mine does.

I gulp. “Yeah.”

Draped in crimson lace, Olivia looks as tempting and mouthwatering as a candy apple. She’s forbidden fruit, and I want to devour her.

I fight a groan as my eyes bounce around her perfectly hugged curves, the way the lace clings to her waist, slips down her luscious thighs, before flowing out around her knees. She’s three inches higher in those sparkly gold heels that match the barrette in her hair, styled in thick waves tonight.

There’s an air of confidence about her tonight. Maybe it’s because that dress makes her feel as stunning as she is all that time, or maybe because we fixed things last night. Maybe because she’s hellbent on making me lose control, ready to watch with a smile. But if I had to guess by the simple rise and fall of her chest, I’d say she’s a little nervous underneath it all.

As nervous as I was two nights ago when I looked up from the fridge and found her standing there, or when I ran away from her to get snacks at the movies last night. Couldn’t control my goddamn pitch and wound up shouting my words at her. I don’t think she noticed though, so I’m probably safe. Totally in control. I’ve got this.

I’m not goofy Carter tonight. I’m hard Carter. I’m wearing an impenetrable mask she won’t be able to…penetrate? Fuck. I donno. Now all I’m thinking about is penetration. You know, the good kind. The hot kind. The wet kind. The fist-in-her-hair, make-her-scream-my-name kind.

Totally in control.

Except—fuck me—when she spins and flashes me the red ribbon that threads over the smooth, milky skin on her back, I die a little on the inside.

“I’m deceased,” I mutter, adjusting the quickly swelling lump between my legs. Not now, sword of thunder, I mentally tell my dick. Stand down, big buddy.

“She’s dressed to kill.” Adam’s gaze slides my way. “You should probably take that as a sign. She’s gonna own this situation. She’s in control.” He sighs and shakes his hair out. “Girls are always in control.”

“I’m in control,” I growl lowly.

Because here’s the thing about me: I’m persistent. Fierce. Voracious and so boldly confident. When I set my sights on something I want, I don’t rest until I’ve got it. Olivia Parker is no different. I may have had her once, but once will never be enough, not with her. I want her over and over again. I want to fucking own her, make her mine, every damn inch of her, for nobody but me.

I’m aware that’s a little caveman of me.

But here’s the other thing: I don’t fucking care.

Except then Olivia peeks at me from over her shoulder, dark lashes fluttering, and she slowly—so damn slowly—skims her fingers over the curve of her hips, the swell of her round ass, the dip of her teensy waist, all while her lower lip slides between her teeth.

Fuck. I’m not in control. I’m not in control at fucking all.

OLIVIA

Oooh, holy fuckballs.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

He’s in a suit. A full suit. Three-piece, midnight blue. My God, it could not fit him any more perfectly. Hugging his broad shoulders, tapered around his sharp, lean waist. Holy crap, those thick, muscular thighs. I remember those bad boys pinning me to the mattress as he—

I fan at my face with two flappy hands.

I need to stop. I need to not. I need to…Crap, I don’t know. I think I need to mount that man in a bathroom. My head cranks, looking for said bathroom.

“Hot?” Cara asks, leaning down to whisper in my ear. She’s stunning tonight in her skintight white lace, the female equivalent to Carter. They’re both otherworldly beings. It’s not fair.

“Yep. Super hot in here. Is the furnace on? You should ask them to turn it down. Air-conditioning, maybe. Hot.”

She hits me with one skeptical, squinty eye. “We’re in the middle of a deep freeze that Vancouver hasn’t seen in years, you have no heat at home, and you want them to turn on the air-conditioning?” She follows my darting eyes and smirks at my still-flapping hands. “Maybe you need someone to put out your fire.”

“Huh?” I snap my head in her direction and then back at Carter. My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets when he catches me staring, and unfortunately flapping, so I yelp and grip Cara’s arms. “Help me. I’m supposed to be in control. He’s the one that’s supposed to give in.”

“No can do, Livvie-pie. I don’t have the body parts required for the kind of help you need. I’ll tell you what I can do, though.” She stops a waiter with a tray of champagne, pours one glass into another, then repeats. She swipes both full-to-the-brim glasses off the tray and hands one to me. “I can get you drunk.”

I chuckle as my glass clinks hers, and as soon as that first sip of bubbly slides down my throat, I let out a deep breath. By the time I’m finished with my second double glass of champagne, Cara disappears to mingle. I should probably slow down, but then Garrett ambles over with a frosty beer in each hand, and I happily accept one.

“You look gorgeous,” he says, pulling me into him. He smells nice, and I wonder what Carter smells like tonight. Fresh lime and man, that’s my guess. Manly man. Throw-me-over-his-shoulder-Viking-style man.

“Thank you, Garrett.” I smile up at him as he pulls back, his hand slipping slowly from my waist. His gaze darts over my shoulder and he clears his throat, jerking his hand back to his side. “You hockey men sure clean up nice, don’t you?” I fix the knot of his tie, which is hanging too far to the right and too low. “It’s nice to see you.”

He’s got such a great grin and seems so happy all the time, carefree, kinda like a cute dog. “Yeah, we’ve missed seeing you around. Some slightly more than others.” He leans closer, mouth next to my ear. “Hey, wanna spike Carter’s blood pressure?”

“What did you have in mind?”

He sets our beers down on the bar and holds out one hand, a sneaky smile spreading. “Dance with me.”

With a giggle, I slip my hand into his and let him lead me out on the dance floor. His palm rests gently on my lower back as he starts twirling us slowly across the space, and I feel the heat of Carter’s gaze as it touches my spine.

“Can’t take his eyes off you,” Garrett whispers. “I’m pretty sure he’s currently deciding which of my body parts he should remove first.” When I laugh, Garrett grins, and he spins me out before pulling me back in. “You been keeping up with the team?”

“Of course. Your goal against Vegas on Tuesday? Chef’s kiss.”

His face lights, chest swelling with pride. “Yeah? Right through the five-hole. What about you? Carter told me you coach the girls’ volleyball team at your school.”

“He talks about me?”

“When he’s not being a mopey ballsack? Yeah, he talks about you all the time.”

I can’t imagine a mopey version of Carter. He’s so upbeat all the time, charismatic and boisterous. That I made him that way has a wave of guilt rushing over me.

“Yeah,” Garrett whispers, tapping the corner of my mouth where I’m frowning. “That’s exactly how he looked. You two are made for each other.”

“I—I don’t—are you—my volleyball team lost in the semifinals, and do you think we’re really made for each other? He’s Carter Beckett and I’m Olivia Parker and I’m so short and he’s so tall so are we even all that compatible, body parts that don’t line up and stuff like that?”

Garrett’s watching me, grinning like a bit of a jackass. “That was the most impressive round of word vomit I’ve ever heard. But I’m gonna need you to get it together and get your head in the game. I’ve got money riding on Carter being the first to crack, not you.”

“I’m scared you made the wrong bet.”

“I believe in you, Ollie.”

That’s great, but as the song ends and he leaves me with my beer, it’s becoming more and more clear I don’t believe in myself. I’m unraveling, falling apart at the seams, and I haven’t even spoken to the man responsible for my demise.

With a sigh that seems never ending, I scrub a hand over my eyes and spin back to the bar so I can glue myself to a stool before I cause any more self-inflicted damage.

Of course, I bounce off something hard on my way, my drink splashing over the edge of my glass, coating my fingers, pooling on the floor.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I’m a mess tonight. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Did I get you…wet…Oh-God-shit.” Those last three words come rushing out in one puff of air.

Oh God shit is right.

“Oh God shit,” Carter hums, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a crystal glass filled with amber liquid as he towers over me. “That’s a new one.”

My legs are shaking. I’m not joking. My body is legitimately trembling right now, and when Carter reaches out and brushes his fingers over my collarbone, sweeping a curl off my shoulder and letting it slip through his fingers, I squeeze my eyes shut.

What the fuck is happening right now? I was perfectly fine last night, and so utterly in control when I walked through this door earlier. Is it the alcohol? It’s the alcohol. Carter’s definitely not making me weak. He’s not…winning.

“You got your hair cut.”

I smack my glass against my head, which I grab with both hands, as if to ask, this hair? “Today.”

“Today?”

“Yeah, I got it done today.” When Carter’s brows quirk, I realize I’m borderline yelling, the way he did the other night. I touch my throat, feeling the way it bobs when I swallow, and try again, this time in a whisper. “I got it cut this morning.” I make scissors with my right hand and snap them twice. “Snip-snip.”

Oh God. Carter might be winning.

“Hm.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, the tip of his finger skimming my sparkly gold barrette. His eyes don’t leave mine as he swirls the liquid in his glass and tosses it back, letting it fill his cheeks before it slides down his throat. He slams the empty glass on the bar before taking my half-full beer and ditching that too.

And he walks forward.

Not walk. He prowls. He prowls forward, and I slink backward until I hit a wall.

His fingers ghost over the dip of my waist as he looms over me, and my heart slams against my sternum like it hopes he might kiss me, but instead, his lips pause at my ear.

“Excuse me, Miss Parker.” His breath is warm and spicy with sweet notes of vanilla and caramel as it rolls down my neck, and his gaze falls to my lips as they part on a shuddering inhale.

The wall behind me suddenly opens, and I stumble backward into complete darkness.

Carter flips the light switch, illuminating the extravagant bathroom we’ve entered.

And then he hits the lock.

My heart sputters like a slowly dying car.

His broad hands seize my hips as he spins me toward the vanity, slapping my palms down on the counter. I’m acutely aware of the way my exposed skin singes at the feel of him, the heavy weight that presses into my lower back. The tips of his fingers dance up my forearms, circling my biceps when he grips me. His nose touches the spot where my shoulder meets my neck before coasting up, settling at the shell of my ear.

“You started off so good,” he murmurs. “So strong. You walked in here like a woman with all the confidence in the world, batting your lashes at me, running your hands over your body, and I thought for sure I was done, a goner. All my self-control flew out the window.”

He drags his mouth down my neck, one hand splayed over my belly, the other gliding over my hip, down the outside of my thigh until he fists the hem of my dress. The lace scrapes softly against my skin as he pulls it up, and my breath catches in my throat as I arch away from his body, pushing myself toward his hand.

Fuck control and fuck slow. I just want him to fuck me.

I feel his smile against my shoulder, and when my eyes meet his dark ones in the reflection of the mirror, I know he’s got me. He knows too.

“But then you gave yourself away. You’re adorable when you’re a mess, you know that?”

The pad of his thumb traces the edge of my silk panties, and a trembling breath escapes my lips, sparks fluttering throughout me as he teases me.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”

A satisfied hum crawls up his throat, and his mouth closes over the edge of my jaw. I sink into him, fingers replaceing his perfectly styled waves.

Then he pulls back, taking his scorching touch with him, leaving me gaping in the mirror.

I twist, watching in horror as he adjusts the lump in his pants, straightens his tie, and fixes his hair. “What are you doing?”

He inclines his head toward the door. “Heading back out there.”

“But you…you said…I said…”

His large hand brackets my jaw. “You said you wanted me to touch you. And maybe I will. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“After we go for lunch.”

“L-lunch?”

He nods, tucking his phone in my hands. “Address, please. So I can pick you up tomorrow for our date.”

“I—”

“Now, Olivia.”

I scramble to enter my address under the weight of his stare, and when I’m done, he sweeps me into the noisy hallway.

Tipping my face up, he presses a tender kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You’re absolutely fucking stunning, Miss Parker.”

Cara launches herself through a hoard of people as I watch Carter disappear. She grips my shoulders and gives me a shake, making my head bobble. “What the hell just happened? You guys were in there for, like, ten minutes.” Her gaze travels down, noting my flushed cheeks, my rumpled dress. “Oh my God. You had sex in the fucking bathroom! I knew it!”

Her head cranks as she yells into the crowd. “Garrett! You owe me, Em, and Adam a hundred bucks each!”

“Fuck that!” he screams back from the abyss. “There’s no way she gave it up that quickly!”

It’s been three hours and I’m wondering when Carter’s going to cash in on the dance he made me promise him last night. There’s no shortage of hockey players who want to dance tonight, that’s for sure. I’ve been spinning around the dance floor all night with very few breaks in between, but the man I really want to dance with seems perfectly content to watch me from afar.

I’m exhausted, a little dizzy, and tipsy enough that I can’t stop giggling. If he doesn’t ask me to dance soon, I’m going to be asleep in the coat check closet.

All he’s given me is lingering stares, smiles hidden behind the rim of his glass, grazing touches over the small of my back as he leans around me at the bar to order a new drink. I’m on edge, which is exactly where he wants me.

“Your feet must be killing you by now,” Adam says as we sway back and forth, my hand in his. “Have you taken a break?”

“You guys don’t seem to have that word in your vocabulary.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

“I can’t wait to get home, throw these heels in a closet, and climb into a bubble bath.”

“With a good book and a glass of wine?”

“Maybe sans wine.” I’m sure my flushed cheeks say it all. “I’ve had my fair share tonight.”

Adam twirls me out and pulls me back in. Humor shines in his eyes as they lock on a spot over my shoulder. “I love making that man jealous.”

He moves us in a slow circle, positioning me so that I can see Carter, who’s perched against a wall with a handful of his teammates. His eyes bounce around me and Adam, the positioning of our hands—which is pretty damn innocent; the man has a girlfriend, though she’s not here—before coasting back to me.

A crooked grin blooms on his face, pulling in his deep dimples, and he sets his glass down, straightening off the wall.

Adam chuckles. “About damn time. He’s been trying to convince us all night he’s in control.” His blue gaze dips to mine, his smile so full of kindness. “I’m really happy you two are giving this a go. He’s been hung up on you since day one, singing nonstop, grinning like an asshole. He’s so damn excited to spend time with you tomorrow. The rest of us are excited for him to stop whining.”

“Don’t listen to Adam,” Carter’s low voice rumbles behind me. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“He texted us all literally the second you drove away last night, Ollie; trust me.”

“All right.” Carter steps between me and Adam. “Enough of that. My turn.”

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to cash in on your dance,” I say as he hauls me against his chest, one hand on my back, the other holding mine.

“I wanted to be your last.”

“Mmm. Your friends are tattling on you.”

His forest green eyes gleam. “Maybe they’re full of shit.”

“Maybe.” I twine my fingers in the waves at the nape of his neck. “But I don’t think they are. I think you missed me, and I think you bragged about last night to your friends.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Some of my arrogance is rubbing off on you.”

“I bet you’d like to rub something else off on me.”

Carter guffaws, and it feels like my single greatest accomplishment ever. “So naughty, Miss Parker. It must be the heels. The added height gives you added confidence.” His mouth dips low, hovering above mine. “But you know what happens when you’ve been naughty, don’t you? You get punished.”

“Mmm. By who? You?”

“Only me. Do you want to be on your knees when you get punished, or over my lap?”

My heartbeat thrums, settling between my legs, and butterflies erupt in my stomach, swirling so violently I feel dizzy. I need to go home before I accidentally beg this man to fuck me on the bathroom sink. I have higher standards than that.

Or do I? No, I don’t think I do.

“What’s the matter, Olivia? You seem like you’re wavering.”

My lips press together as my head wags. “Nope. No. I’m just…” I pull away from him, shaking my hands out before I press one to my forehead. “Tired. Super tired. I think I need to go home.”

Popping up on my toes, I kiss his stunned cheek, wave for good measure, and jet toward the coat closet. Once I’ve said my good-byes to the future bride and groom, I brave the cold. There’s a fresh dusting of snow covering the sidewalks, kissing my toes, and my teeth clatter as I pull up the Uber app on my phone.

A lavish limo stops out front, idling by the curb, and when the driver opens the back door and gestures inside, my brows inch toward my hairline.

I point at myself, and he smiles, nodding.

I wave a flailing hand through the air. “Oh, no. You must have me confused with someone else. I’m about to order an—”

“Get in.” Carter tugs my phone from my hand, sweeping me toward the limo with his hand on my back.

“But I—”

“Get in the car, Olivia.” His leather-gloved thumb brushes my trembling lower lip. “Your toes are going to fall off, and I want to make sure you get home safe.”

“Yeah. Okay.” My head’s bobbing but my feet aren’t moving.

Carter gives me a gentle shove, his hands tight on my waist as he essentially lifts me off the ground and places me on the backseat. He slides in next to me, spreading his legs, and when he recites my address into a speaker, I resist the urge to snort.

“Are you checking to make sure I didn’t give you a fake address?”

“You wouldn’t do that. You like me too much.”

Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, I stare straight ahead at the divider that hides us from the driver, pretending not to notice the way Carter lays his gloves in his lap and proceeds to fuck around on his phone. But ten minutes in, he hasn’t paid me a damn bit of attention while I’m stuck in this steel box with him, and if I don’t get to be in control, neither does he.

“Are you seriously checking the sports updates right now?”

A sneaky smile tugs on his lips. “No.”

“You’re being an ass.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I sling one leg over the other. “You’re right. You don’t know how to look at or talk to me without losing control. I get it. This is easier for you.”

There it is.

He tucks his phone in his coat pocket and swivels my way. Electric green eyes drop to my lips, and as he moves toward me, my breath snags in my throat. “You saying I don’t know how to play the game, Parker?”

“Apparently not this one, Beckett.”

“Think you can play better than me?”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”

His palm hits my collarbone, shoving me down to my back, and his hands slap to the leather seats, bracketing my head as he hovers above me. He drops his hips to mine, and the heat of his touch burns my skin as he skims his hand up my thigh, slipping it below my dress.

He trails slow, wet kisses up the columns of my throat, nipping the edge of my jaw, lingering at my ear. “Prove it.”

A raw ache unfurls between my legs as he pulls away, grazing his thumb over my silk panties, the throbbing nub below.

He sinks back in his seat, looking way too damn pleased with himself, smiling down at the motherfucking sports updates again.

The car rolls to a stop not ten seconds later, and before he can open his mouth, I jump out of the car, slamming the door behind me.

“Ollie,” he calls, chasing after me. I hate that it comes out a chuckle, and I hate even more when I slip on a patch of ice on my porch steps, sending me flying backward, right into his stupid, hard chest. “Did I win?” he asks, setting me down at my door.

“No,” I grumble, stepping inside my freezing house. I kick off my heels. “I haven’t kissed you.”

He’s doing a shit job at hiding that smug grin on his face. “We’re supposed to be taking this slow.”

“I know.”

“So no kissing.”

“Right.”

“Would it make you feel better if you won?”

“I don’t—”

Carter swallows my words with his mouth, his fingers plunging through my hair as my back hits the closet in the front hall. His hand slides up my leg, beneath my dress, wrapping around my bare hip as I grind myself into him. I don’t have it in me to care that the front door is open, and the poor limo driver is 100 percent getting a free show right now.

“Fuck slow,” he growls. “I can’t do slow. Not with you.”

God, I don’t want slow. I want to crack this whole thing wide open, the chemistry, the passion, the fire. I want to give him all of me and take all of him.

Carter pulls away, swiping his hand over his mouth, his breathing ragged and uneven as his gaze rakes over me. Something blooms there, something vulnerable and cautious. He clears his throat, gaze dropping. “I…I missed you while you were gone.”

With my hand on his cheek, I guide his gaze back to mine. “I missed you while I was gone too.”

There’s that megawatt grin, perfect teeth and deep dimples, and before he leaves, he dashes back down to the limo, jumps over the icy step, and returns a moment later with a small blue box that he presses into my hand.

He places a lingering kiss on my lips. “Sleep tight, Ollie girl.”

Once I’m makeup-free and warm and snug in my fuzzy socks and pajamas, I stand over the kitchen counter and lift the lid on the blue box. Inside is a cupcake, and the tiny flag that sticks out of the frosting tells me that it’s maple pecan, topped with maple buttercream frosting and bacon crumble.

There’s a small note taped under the lid:

I got you the most bacon-y one.

xo Carter