Consider Me (Playing For Keeps Book 1)
Consider Me: Chapter 24

CARTER

BY THE TIME we leave Hank’s, the sun is already beginning to dip into the horizon. I’m typically someone who loves winter—present year excluded; this shit is too cold for me—because hockey has always been my life, but I hate the shorter days, the fleeting hours of daylight. I always feel like I’m rushing to get things done before the sun goes down, like right now.

Hank would have kept us all day, and I’m pretty sure Olivia would have happily obliged him, but we’ve got one more pit stop on our date that depends on daylight before we head back to my house for dinner and cuddles.

Potentially naked cuddles. I haven’t decided yet. I’d prefer naked, of course, and I’m beginning to realize that slow isn’t a word in our vocabulary, but sex is something I can hold off on if she’s not ready, and I want to make sure she is.

“When’s the last time you skated?”

“Yesterday,” she answers distractedly.

We’re not far from my place, and she’s got her face nearly pressed against the window as she stares out at Capilano Lake. It’s breathtaking in the winter. And in the summer too. All the time, really.

Olivia manages to pull her gaze away. “I coach Alannah’s hockey team.”

When I accidentally slam on the brakes, I bracket my arm across Olivia’s chest, stopping her forward jolt. “Sorry, sorry. I just—you just—fuck. Wow.”

She’s my perfect woman.

Her brows pinch with her quizzical smile. “What?”

“I think I might love you,” I joke, except I’m possibly, maybe, halfway serious. “That’s amazing. Can I come see a game?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because all you’ll do is distract the girls and the moms.”

“Hmm. This face is highly distracting, you’re right. Don’t get me started on this body.”

God, I love when she rolls her eyes. So tiny and ferocious. “You’re so ridiculously full of yourself it’s insane, Beckett.”

The tip of my finger dances up her thigh. “You can be full of me too if you play your cards right.

She laughs and shoves my hand off her thigh, only to twine her fingers with mine and set them back in her lap, because she likes when I touch her as much as I like doing it. “Who the hell raised you?”

“Mama Beckett would take offense to that, Olivia.” She wouldn’t. She’d bury her face in her hands, apologize profusely, and tell me to keep my filthy mouth shut.

Which reminds me, Mom’s gonna have a field day when those pictures of Olivia and me at lunch hit the news tomorrow. I make a mental note to pretend like I have no idea what she’s talking about when she inevitably calls me about it, just to grind her gears. Dad would be disappointed in me if I didn’t.

I throw the car into park at the head of the lake and tug Olivia over to a bench overlooking the lake. It’s covered in a thick layer of glass-like ice, the slowly sinking sun making it dazzle like crystal. The snow-dusted pines shine in the sleek reflection, and everything is white, powder blue, and deep forest green.

Olivia’s so enthralled she doesn’t notice me disappear back to the car, and when I stop in front of her, her gaze falls to the pairs of hockey skates in my hands, and a bright beam shatters her face. “We’re going skating? Here?”

“You got it, princess. You said you grew up doing this back home, so I figured this might be a nice way to bring a bit of home to you.”

Her eyes shine with gratitude. “Thank you, Carter. This is, hands down, the best date ever.”

My chest puffs with pride. “Knew I’d kill my first date.”

“First date ever? High school counts, Carter.”

“I didn’t have time for dating in high school. I was too focused on training.”

Probably could have made time, but I have no regrets. If I had, I might be stuck in a miserable relationship like Adam is right now. Him and Courtney have been together since they were seventeen, and we all see how well that’s playing out years later. No fucking thanks. Plus, my raging teenage hormones, insanely good looks, and charismatic confidence—which some label arrogance—got me through high school just fine without a steady girlfriend.

With our skates on, I help Olivia down to the ice and watch as she takes it all in, speechless.

Most areas of Vancouver don’t typically get cold enough for large bodies of water to freeze over so completely, but this winter is an exception. Right now, as Olivia twirls slowly, gazing with wonder out at all this little slice of heaven has to offer, I couldn’t be more grateful for the cold.

“I’ve never seen something so beautiful,” Olivia whispers. The smile she wears is so dazzling, it hits me right in the stomach like a sucker punch.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

Her lashes flutter as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth. “Who do you think is a better skater, me or you?”

“Hundred percent me. I’m way faster.”

“I said better, not faster.” She skates away from me, leaning forward on one foot before she jumps in the air, spins, and lands on her feet. She sends up a spray of snow when she stops in front of me. “Hockey on the weekends and figure skating during the week until I was ten.”

“I’ll take your ass to the ground, Parker.”

There’s a happy thump in my chest when Olivia throws her arms around my neck. She’s finally given up that shyness from earlier today. I love seeing her like this, her walls coming down, her simply…being herself, with me. Me, being myself with her. It’s easy.

“You think so, eh?”

“I know so. Wanna race?”

“No way. Your legs are, like, three times the length of mine. It’s an unfair advantage.”

I skate toward her, loving the way her hips swing with every backward stride. “Afraid I’ll win?”

“I could skate circles around you, Mr. Beckett.”

I incline my head toward the small green boathouse that sits in the middle of the lake, connected from one shore to the next by a narrow wooden dock. “First one there and back.”

Her fingers crawl up my chest. “When I win, will you rub my feet? They’re gonna be sore from kicking your ass.”

The tip of my nose grazes her freezing one. “So arrogant.”

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, I’ll fucking rub off on you.” I catch Olivia’s waist as she tries to spin away from me, hauling her right back in. “We gonna do this or what, pip-squeak?”

“Definitely.” She draws me into her, touching her lips to the corner of my mouth. “But there’s something I want to do before I humiliate you.”

I don’t have time to ask what that is before her mouth opens on mine. Hot, wet tongue lashes, nipping teeth and bruising grips, this kiss is nothing but starved. I’m about to toss my ridiculous idea of anything other than naked cuddles out the window when she starts tugging on my zipper.

“What do you think you’re doing there, Miss Parker?” I rasp out. My cock rockets to maximum strain the second her hand wraps around it through my boxers. “Fuck.”

“Can’t a girl put her hands on her man?”

“Yup. Yeah. That’s…fuck…cool. Hands.” My head whips between the trees and my car. Do I wanna push her up against a tree and fuck her, or watch her slip around on the leather seats in the back of the Benz? Tree is more accessible. Do we need to take our skates off? No, I think I can make it work. I’ve got thighs of steel.

“Carter?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Soft lips touch my chin. “You’re gonna lose.”

“What?” I nearly cry when her hand disappears. “What the hell are you—Olivia!”

Her piercing cackle echoes around the lake as she takes off like lightning, her blades zipping along with her. I’m too stunned to care when my jeans start slipping over my ass, and I’m proud to say that by the time Olivia reaches the boathouse and starts flying back toward me, my pants are around my ankles.

Because that girl can fucking skate.

She’s still laughing like a hyena when she jumps into my arms and crashes her lips against mine. “Ready to rub my feet?”

I’m ready to rub something, that’s for fucking sure.

There’s a warm body tucked into mine that reminds me I don’t want this night to end, that there’s no part of me that wants to climb on a plane in the morning and leave for three days.

The flawless beauty sprawled out in my lap is decked out in my clothes, head to toe. My Vipers hoodie, a pair of sweats that swallow her legs, even a pair of my thick socks covering her feet as we curl up on my balcony, next to the roaring fire, Olivia with a cup of the tea I ran out to buy this morning so she can have it whenever she’s here.

Every minute of this day has been perfect, from Olivia’s hand in mine as we skated across the lake, to the way she stood by my side at the stove, dipping her finger into the sauce I was stirring before dinner, humming happily as she sucked it off. That one accidentally ended with her on the counter and my tongue down her throat. She’s still claiming the whole thing was purely innocent, that she was simply tasting the sauce, but I’m not buying it.

I pull the elastic from her braid and run my fingers through her silky hair. “Hank didn’t scare you off today, did he?”

“If anything, he made you ten times more appealing. That guy really amps up your cool factor. His smut collection is the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen.”

Right. My eighty-three-year-old best friend and my…Olivia…might have started an impromptu book club today. They’re starting with some book called Follow Me Darkly or something. I have no desire to get tangled up in that, except apparently blindfolds are involved, so, like, maybe.

But still: “My sword of thunder is the most impressive thing you’ve ever seen.”

She tips her head back, wide gaze locking on mine as silence hangs between us. Then she laughs in my face. “You do not call your dick your sword of thunder.”

“I absolutely call my dick my sword of thunder. You know why, Ollie? ’Cause he brings the thunder.” I take her chin in my hand. “I don’t appreciate your laughter right now.”

Folding her lips into her mouth, she pretends to lock them and throw away the key.

Chuckling, I wrap my arms around her, holding her a little tighter as I gaze out at the mountains, the stars that paint the sky. “I’m happy you liked him. He’s one of my best friends.”

“I can tell. You two seem really close. Have you known him your whole life?”

“A little over seven years,” I murmur. “He saved my life.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I’m not sure whether to stop while I’m ahead or keep going. The handful of people who know how Hank came to be in my life is restricted to my family, my best friends.

“You said that earlier, that his wife did.”

Because she did. I may have never met Ireland, but she saved my life the day Hank found me, and there isn’t a single piece of me that will ever think otherwise.

“You don’t have to tell me, Carter. You’re allowed to have boundaries, and it’s okay if this is one of them.”

But what if I don’t want to have any boundaries? What if I want to show her all of me?

“The day I met Hank, my dad was in a car accident. It was barely five in the morning, and the driver was still drunk from the night before.” My throat constricts as something heavy settles deep in my chest. “He died on impact.”

Olivia sits up, laying her cheek on my chest and her hand over my heart, and any apprehension I have about giving her this piece of me melts away. If I want her to know me, well, this is maybe the most important piece of my puzzle.

“I was supposed to play in Calgary the following night. My dad was driving down to watch because it was my first game as an assistant captain. I offered to fly him out but he said he wanted to take the scenic route. I should’ve…I should’ve made him.”

Olivia presses a kiss to my palm. “It’s not your fault, Carter.”

“I know that, but it’s hard not to think that way sometimes. Especially that day.” The only person to ever blame me for my dad’s death is me. It’s a heavy weight to carry around on your shoulders, even though I’m not the one who chose to get behind the wheel after drinking all night long. Hell, I’ve seen the struggle in my own sister’s eyes, wondering if our dad would still be here, if he’d one day be able to walk her down the aisle if it weren’t for me playing hockey.

“It was after eleven when my mom’s body finally gave up the fight. I carried her to bed and sat with my sister as she cried herself to sleep. And then I…I went out. By myself. I didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of them when I didn’t know how I’d even be able to take care of myself. Hank was there. Kept cracking fucking blind jokes. I tried to ignore him but he kept throwing peanut shells at me every time I started to doze off.” I run an agitated hand through my hair. “I was just fucking …”

“Heartbroken,” Olivia whispers.

“Yeah.” My voice cracks as I hug her tighter. “Just a heartbroken mess. I didn’t think he had any clue who I was. He couldn’t see, after all. And then I made the stupidest decision I’ve ever made. I stood up and grabbed my car keys.”

A jagged inhale pierces the air as a tear rolls down Olivia’s cheek. She quickly swipes it away.

“Hank slapped his cane against my knee so fast before he stabbed the end of it into my stomach. I remember exactly what he said to me next.”

I think back to that moment, the one that saved my life, and maybe many more. I remember those light blue eyes moving over me, the fury that I’ve only seen Hank wear that one time as he slipped off his stool, his hands moving slowly over my chest until he found the neck of my shirt and gripped it.

“‘I know you’re not about to drive, Mr. Beckett,’ he said. ‘You’ve had way too much to drink and have too much to lose. There are people here who depend on you. Don’t make a stupid decision that you’ll regret the rest of your life, if you even live to see it, just because you’re hurting right now.’”

Silent tears stream down Olivia’s face as she turns, fingers pressing into my jaw as she presses the softest kiss to my lips.

“Hank doesn’t even drink. That day was the seventh anniversary of Ireland’s death. He was sitting there at midnight drinking a glass of chocolate milk because he’d had a dream during his afternoon nap and claimed that his dead wife said somebody might need his help. He’d been sitting there since six in the evening, waiting. Said he knew it was me he was waiting for the second I sank down on the bar stool next to him. I know it sounds crazy.”

Olivia draws in a sniffle, hiccupping against my chest. I pull her face up to mine and smile at the way she tries to slap her tears away.

“I’m sorry for crying.” It comes out pretty wail-y, so I don’t think she’s going to be able to stop any time soon. The fact that this is the same girl who slammed the door in my face and told me to go fuck myself not all that long ago is mind-blowing. She sure puts up a good I-don’t-give-a-shit front. She wraps her arms around me and buries her face in my neck while I smooth my palm down her hair. “It’s not crazy, and I’m so thankful for Hank and Ireland and you.”

“Me?”

She nods. “For letting me see the real Carter Beckett. For being the type of man who carries his mom to bed. For having a man in his eighties who loves dirty books as one of your best friends. I’m grateful to be here with you.”

I’m a little lost for words, so I tip her face up to mine for a kiss. If I attempt to talk, there’s a good chance that a lot of words I’m not ready to say about how I feel for her are going tumble from my lips, which is pretty fucking ridiculous, because, disregarding all the weeks before, it’s been one day.

There’s no denying that whatever we’ve got between us feels right. I hope she feels it, too, because in this moment I’m acutely aware that these feelings are going nowhere fast.

For the next hour, we stay by the fire, trading stories, laughing quietly while she stretches out opposite me, enjoying the foot rub I’m giving her through my socks. She keeps jerking her foot away and giggling every time I hit a certain spot in her arch, so I peel the thick socks off and throw them over my shoulder, revealing her pink toes.

“Do you have a foot fetish I’m not aware of?” Olivia asks when I press my lips to her arch.

“No.” My mouth drags over her ankle as my palm slips beneath the sweatpants she wears, gliding up her calf. “I have a you fetish. And I’m dying to see if your feet are…” I nip her arch. “Ticklish.”

Olivia flies off the back of the couch and almost hammers me in the face with her foot when my teeth nibble on her sensitive skin. “Stop it! Carter!”

But do I stop? No, of course not. I wrap my hand around her ankle and the tips of my fingers go to town on that foot of hers while she squeals and thrashes. I don’t stop until she’s a sweaty, red mess and tears are leaking from her eyes.

She struggles against me as I pull her into my chest. “You’re such an ass.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ass.” A rustle draws my attention down below, and I drop my voice, nudging her cheek. I point out at the clearing where a moose is emerging, each step slow and cautious as it looks around. “Look.”

Olivia gasps, scrambling over my lap to get a better look, gripping the railing. “Oh my gosh. It looks like a young one.”

“Yeah.” A dark shadow catches my eye, and a much larger moose takes a few steps forward, rooting around in the snow. “And there’s Mama.”

“So incredible,” Olivia murmurs wondrously.

“Like you.”

She turns to smile at me. “Are you trying to charm me now, Mr. Beckett?”

“I’ve been trying since I met you.”

She slings her arms around my neck, straddling my hips. “You’re getting pretty good at it, as much as it pains me to say.” She brushes a kiss across my lips. “Much better than ‘I wanna put you in the penalty box.’”

I snort a laugh. “Still can’t believe that didn’t work. But I think if I’d had five more minutes—”

“I would’ve punched you in the face. Yes, you’re absolutely right.”

“Feisty girl.” I slip my hands beneath the hoodie she wears, palms sliding up her back, and the chill makes her shiver. “You like putting up a fight, and I like it too.” I flick my tongue over the spot below her ear. “Makes me wanna slap your ass and fuck you until you scream.

I think my favorite sound is Olivia’s whimper. I enjoy the way her skin warms with the sound, her body buzzing as my lips move against her neck. I rip the collar of my sweater to the side, exposing her shoulder to the cold air, and cover it with my hot tongue.

“Carter.” There’s that whimper again. Goddamn, I love it.

“Olivia.” I pull the hoodie over her head, exposing her soft curves, the gem in her belly when her shirt underneath rides up. It’s getting late and I have a flight in the morning. I know I need to take her home so she can get some sleep before work, but I won’t see her for a few days and I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave this city without a little taste.

So I kiss her stomach, peel those sweatpants off her legs, wrap her around my body, and cart her off to my bed. She tries to pull me down with her when I set her on the edge, but I shake my head and drop to my knees on the floor.

She props herself up and sinks her fingers through my hair, her head falling back with a moan as my mouth coasts up the inside of her thigh. There’s a little pool of moisture gathered in the center of her pale purple panties that makes me want to rip them right off.

So I do. I destroy that scrap of satin and bury my face between her legs like I’m a feral animal and she’s the first meal I’ve had in days. Olivia collapses on the bed, legs winding around my neck as she pushes me deeper into her, hips arching, crying out for more as I fuck her with my tongue.

She’s coming apart at the seams, melting into my mouth with every flick and slide of my tongue, the way my teeth graze her clit. My fingers crawl beneath her shirt, replaceing her taut nipples, and when I give one a pinch, she gasps, arching off the bed. Her legs quiver as she yanks on my hair, and I know she’s close.

I stop without warning, standing and flipping her over, yanking her to her hands and knees, dragging her shirt up her back and my finger down her spine, watching her shiver. My palm curves over the swell of her perfect, full ass, and I dip two fingers inside her, dragging her wetness through her slit until I replace the cleft at the top, swollen and begging for attention.

Bending over her, my lips meet her neck. “You’re so wet, Ollie. Do you like when I touch you?”

“Please, Carter.”

“Please what?”

She buries her face in the mattress, hiding the sound she makes. With my free hand, I plow my fingers through her hair, fisting it at the nape of her neck, and I pull her back up.

“Tell me you want me to fuck your pussy with my fingers.”

Her spine ripples, whether from my words or the slow circles I’m rubbing around her clit, I’m not sure. Maybe both. “Carter.”

“Say it.”

The hushed demand has her fingers gripping the sheets, her breath coming in heavy spurts as I tease her with the tip of my finger before I pull it back, and she whimpers.

“Fuck my pussy with your fingers. Please.”

I sink two fingers inside of her without hesitation, holding her down while I pump in and out. Her ass juts backward, slapping against the heel of my palm as she begs for more, for harder, faster.

“That’s my girl.”

Fuck, she’s a sight to be seen, ass in the air as she writhes and moans, fisting the sheets so hard she starts dragging them right off the mattress. She feels like velvet, plush and soft, so fucking warm, and when those walls tighten around me, I slow my roll, plunging at a deliberately leisurely pace, one that takes all of three seconds to drive her insane.

“Please, Carter,” she cries, pushing back into my hand. “I wanna come.”

“Is that right, gorgeous?”

“Ye-e-esss.” The word is a garbled mess as she shudders, body quaking.

“You wanna come,” I whisper against the shell of her ear. “And I want you to earn it.” I release her hair and pull my fingers from her sopping heat.

“What?” It’s a frantic, desperate snarl. My beautiful girl isn’t happy with me.

Olivia’s lips part and she swipes the hair off her forehead in slow motion as she watches me lick her arousal off my fingers. She shifts on the bed like she’s looking for some friction.

I slap her ass. “Get some pants on. I’ll take you home.”

She slips off the bed and falls to her ass. I barely manage to bite back my snicker, if only because the look she hits me with tells me she’s about ten seconds away from murdering me, and I’m not ready to die yet.

I’m waiting by the door when she comes storming down the stairs in my sweatpants and hoodie five minutes later.

She shoves a finger in my face. “Wipe that arrogant smirk off your face before I wipe it off for you.”

Christ, I’ve never worked so hard not to laugh before. She’s gonna cut my fucking balls off.

I follow her to the kitchen, watching her pick all her things up from the island and shove them into her purse. “You’re still mad, huh? But you can’t be. I’m going away for three days. You’re gonna miss me.”

She pins me with a patronizing smile. “And that’s the only reason you’re still breathing right now.”

I tear her coat from her grip the second she pulls it out of the closet, throwing it over my shoulder while her jaw snaps shut, teeth clacking. Angry Olivia is my favorite Olivia.

My fingers circle her wrists and pin them to the wall on either side of her head, lips ghosting over the columns of her throat. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Screw you,” she tosses out without any real heat. All that heat is stacked in her dark gaze.

“I’d love to,” I whisper, watching her neck erupt with goose bumps at the proximity of my lips. “All you have to do is promise me you’ll still be mine in the morning.” My teeth scrape her lower lip as I release her wrists and push her pants down. I dip my hand between her thighs. “Better yet, tell me who owns this pussy.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Carter.” Her tongue lashes against mine. “And I own this pussy.”

“The fuck you do.” I unzip my pants and pull out my hard cock, pressing it against the most addicting pussy in the world as I hoist her up to me. “Try again, princess.”

Her hips arch off the wall, grinding against me. “Right now? You do.”

“That’s fucking right.” Something catches in the back of my throat, and I look down at my cock as I swipe the head through her soaking slit. “I haven’t been with anyone but you, Ollie. I won’t…It’s just you for me. Nobody else.”

There’s a silent question in those statements, and I wonder if she’ll hear it.

She strokes the side of my face. “There’s nobody but you, Carter.”

With a wicked grin, I slam her against the wall with my hips and slap her hands above her head. “I’ve got two weeks of pent-up sexual frustration that I’m about to unleash on you.” My lips touch her ear. “You’re gonna have my cum dripping down your legs for the next twelve hours, at least, and that’ll be the only thing that gets me through this trip without you.”

Olivia cries out with unrestrained pleasure when I deliver the first punishing plow, tears my shoulders apart with her nails when she unravels, and I put an accidental fist through the drywall when I come violently inside of her.

Oops.