When Sparks Fly (Sexy Secrets Book 2) (5 page)

“Shit!”  I quickly usher her back from the door and enter
the house, closing the door behind me.  A small dog with blue-black fur and big
ears immediately rushes up to me and starts biting and tugging on my pant leg.

“Chewy, stop,” Olivia says faintly as she leans into me.  “I
fell and cut my arm and I think I broke my phone.  I can’t stop the bleeding.” 
She looks up at me and her eyes are looking a bit unfocused. 

I guide her to a big gray chair and sit her down.  The towel
she has wrapped around her arm is now almost all red.  I have a feeling we will
be making a trip to the emergency room tonight because she is soaking the towel
at an alarming rate.  

“Olivia, where do you keep your towels?” 

She leans back into the chair, holding her forearm against
her chest.  She points with her good hand down a hallway.  I quickly hurry down
the hall and I see two open doors and two closed ones.  The open doors appear
to be bedrooms.  I open the first closed door and I am happy to see that it is
a linen closet.  I grab three bath towels and hurry back to Olivia.

I kneel down in front of her and gently take her arm,
un-wrapping the blood-soaked towel from her forearm.  She hisses when I have
her arm fully unwrapped.  There is a deep cut from her inner elbow almost down
to her wrist.  I place the soiled towel in one of the bath towels and wrap her
arm up again with the other towel, applying pressure.   

__________________________

Some forty-five minutes later, we are in the emergency
room.  I am sitting quietly next to Olivia on a gurney as she leans heavily on
me.  She is tucked under me as I hold her free hand while an ER doctor stitches
up her arm.  She has her head on my shoulder and every now then she will
stretch up and nuzzle into my neck. 

“You smell good,” she slurs as she trails her lips along my
neck.

And she’s on painkillers.

I see the ER doctor smirk as he continues to stitch up her
arm.  Olivia has been quite chatty for the past ten minutes.  I am willing to
bet that her inner thoughts are now being made external thanks to the
painkiller she was given before the doctor started stitching her up.  She has
been spouting off random things about how I smell or how she likes my body and
my favorite - how she wants me to kiss her again. 

I look down at her arm and it looks like he is almost
done.   

“Thirty-seven stitches,” the ER doctor says finally.  He
wraps Olivia’s forearm in gauze while detailing the care instructions to follow
while the cut heals.  He also provides a few samples of pain medication and a
few boxes of gauze.  

By the time we arrive back at Olivia’s house, she is
asleep.  I take a moment to look at her before waking her. 

Fourteen hours. 

I have known her for fourteen hours and in that time, she
has become important to me.  It feels like I have known her years and not
hours.  I take in her profile as she sleeps.  Her braids are pulled into a low
ponytail with the loose ends spilling over her shoulder.  My fingers twitch,
wanting to wrap her hair around my fist as I kiss her.  She has her injured arm
cradled to her chest and for a moment, something in my chest clenches.  I hate
to think what could have happened if I had not come over tonight.

I get out of my truck and cross around to open her door.  I
would carry her in the house without waking her, but I have no idea where her
keys are, so I wake her by gently calling her name and stroking her cheek with
my finger.

It takes a moment or two, but she wakes.  Her eyes are a bit
bleary as she looks at me. 

“Hey,” she says.  Her voice is sleepy and slurry at the same
time. 

 “Hey Baby Girl,” I say, still stroking her cheek with my
finger.  “We are back at your house.  Where are your house keys?”

She points to the small purse at her feet.  It is then I
remember the lecture of my mother to never look through a woman’s purse.  I
mentally roll my eyes and open her purse, quickly finding her keys attached to
an Avenger’s key ring.

I scoop her into my arms and not less than five minutes
later, I have managed to open her front door, fend off a yappy dog and deposit
her onto what I assume is her bed in a bedroom that looks like her.  Three
walls are pale blue and the wall behind her bed is painted with some kind of
iridescent paint that shimmers in the overhead light.  

I watch Olivia as she kicks off her shoes before she turns
on her side and curls into herself.  I wonder if I should help her change
clothes.  For the first time, I realize what she is wearing – or more accurately,
her lack of clothing.  She is wearing a pair of shorts that barely cover her
ass and my zip-up hoodie that I covered her with earlier.  I can’t even
remember what she has on under my hoodie.  I sit on the edge of the bed behind
her, rubbing her back.

“Do you want to change clothes Baby Girl?”

She turns her head and looks up at me with sleepy eyes and a
slight smile on her lips. 

“Isaac?”

“Yeah,” I respond as I cup her chin and run a thumb under
her eye.  She looks so sleepy – and beautiful.

“I like it when you call me Baby Girl.”

A chuckle escapes me as I smile down at her.

“Yeah?  Good because I like calling you Baby Girl.”

She sits up slowly and non-too-gracefully, she unzips the
hoodie before peeling it off.  I see that she has an oversized t-shirt
underneath.  I help her maneuver until she is under the covers, laying on her
back and staring up at me with those big brown eyes. 

“Do you need anything?” 

Her pretty butterscotch complexion blushes.  It is then I
know - she wants something but is afraid to ask. 

“You know you can ask me anything.  No need to be shy.”

She looks adorable and sexy at the same time as her blush
deepens and she averts her face from me.  I am not having any of that.  I cup
her chin again and gently turn her face back towards me.  She immediately
scrunches her eyes tight and blurts out, “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Little does she know that I had no intentions of leaving her
house tonight.  I have fallen quick and hard for this girl.  Fourteen damn
hours and I already know I will do anything for her.

“I can stay,” I say softly.  She slowly opens her eyes.   I
give her a smile that I hope is reassuring.  “My gym bag is in my truck; I keep
spare clothes in it.  Let me go get that and I will be right back.  Can I use
your shower?”

She nods her head, her body seeming to relax now that she
knows I am staying.  I lean over and kiss her forehead before leaving the bed. 
I turn on the lamp on the nightstand before I make my way out her bedroom,
turning off the overhead light as I go.  Her ball of fur – Chewy – seems to be
waiting for me as I enter her living room/den area. 

I wonder if he needs to be walked so he can do his
business.

 I look around for a leash so I can take him for a quick
walk.  I don’t see one.  When he takes off in the direction of what I assume is
the kitchen, I follow.  As I enter the kitchen, I see him looking at me before
he exits through a dog door that is at the base of the kitchen door.

Well, I guess he doesn’t need to be walked then.

I locate a broom and dustpan to sweep up the broken glass
from the side table that Olivia fell into earlier.  Before we left for the
hospital, I covered the broken glass with a couple of towels so her dog
wouldn’t cut himself.  

After that is taken care of, I go outside to grab my gym
bag.  Back in the house, I go back to the kitchen to see if Chewy is back
inside and just as I enter, he climbs through the dog door.  I follow him as he
leaves the kitchen and goes down the hall.  He enters one of the open doors and
I see it is a spare bedroom.   I watch him go over to a dog bed in the corner
and settle in. 

I enter Olivia’s bedroom and head towards her bathroom for a
quick shower.  I instinctively glance towards the bed and it’s empty.  I bump
into her she exits the bathroom. 

“I needed to brush my teeth,” she says quietly.  “I left an
unopened tooth brush for you on the counter.”

I smile down at her. 

“Thank you - once I finish up in here,” I nod towards the
bathroom, “I’m going to crash in your spare bedroom.”

“Oh,” she says if she is surprised.  She starts to fidget
while biting her bottom lip.  “I thought you were going to sleep in here…with
me.”

This girl is full of surprises.

“Is that what you want?”

She nods again.

“Okay then, I’ll sleep in here with you.  Why don’t you go
ahead and get in bed - I will be out soon.”

I watch her walk to the bed, climb in and curl up in the
middle of her king-sized bed.  Her choosing to settle in the middle of the bed,
rather than choosing a side, tells me something.

She doesn’t share her bed regularly with anyone.

I quickly shower and brush my teeth, pulling on a pair of
basketball shorts before I walk back into Olivia’s bedroom.  As I approach the
bed, I can tell she is asleep.  I turn off the nightstand lamp before sliding
into her bed.  I will myself not to pull her into my arms as I drift off to
sleep.

__________________________

Olivia

A dull throbbing pain in my arm wakes me.  It takes me a few
minutes to gather my bearings and remember the night before.  I hesitantly
reach behind me and come into contact with a hard and warm body. 

It wasn’t a dream.

Carefully, I ease myself into a sitting position and scoot
to the side of the bed, determined to find some ibuprofen for my arm. 

“Olivia?”  A deep rumbling voice - thick and laced with
sleep - calls out softly to me. 

I don’t say anything, I just sort of freeze up.  I have
never had a guy in my
bed before.  The last time I was in bed with a
guy, it was with my ex-boyfriend and that was four long years ago.  My
ex-boyfriend insisted that our ‘sleepovers’ (that is what he called it when we
had sex) occur at his house. We never had ‘sleepovers’ at my house. 
Furthermore, before my ex-boyfriend, I always had sex at the guy’s house –
never my house.

Granted, Isaac and I did not have sex, but he is in my bed. 
As the fog in my head clears some more, I am remembering that I asked him to
stay and to sleep in my bed with me.  I have no idea what I am supposed to do. 
It’s not as if this is the awkward morning after; no, this is the awkward
middle of the night after my clumsy ass tripped over my own feet and fell into
a glass table, which ended with him taking me to the emergency room kind of
awkward.

Before I can really panic, I feel him move to sit behind
me.  He wraps me in his arms, while his thighs rest on the outside of mine. 
His body is so warm and hard.  I hold myself still, but what I really want to
do is lean back into him. 

“Are you okay Baby Girl?”  His warm breath wafts over my
neck.

I forget about holding still and practically melt into him. 
I really, really like it when he calls me ‘Baby Girl’.  It makes me feel
special - as if I mean something to him.

“My arm hurts.  I’m going to get some ibuprofen.”

He tightens his arms around me briefly before releasing me
from his hold and climbing out of bed.  I watch him turn on the bedside lamp
and my mouth goes dry.  He is only wearing a pair of dark colored basketball
shorts.  I let my eyes scan his upper body – he is lean, but cut with muscle. 
I find myself wanting to run my hands down his six-pack.  I let my gaze wander
a little bit further south and I don’t think he is wearing underwear because I
swear I see his cock moving.  I snap out of my perusal of his body when he
calls my name.

“Olivia?”

“I’m sorry, what?”  I ask.  I should be ashamed of myself
for ogling him, but I’m not.

“The ER doc gave you some sample pain meds – do you want
those instead?”  I look down at my gauze-wrapped arm and it is still
throbbing.  At this point, I just want the throbbing to stop.

I nod my head.

Some ten minutes later, I have downed a half a bottle of
water, five saltine crackers (because Isaac thought I needed something on my
stomach before I took the medication) and one pain pill.  I am lying on my side
and I can feel Isaac behind me.  I so want to scoot back and be the little
spoon to his big spoon.  I am restless and every few seconds or so I twitch.  

“Olivia,” Isaac says softly. 

God I love the deepness of his voice.

“Hhhmmm,” is all I can manage.

“You okay?”

“Hhhmmm.”

I can feel him scoot closer, placing a tentative hand on my
hip.  I feel the front of his thighs molding to the back of my thighs.  I feel
his pelvis mold to my ass and finally his chest mold to my back.  

“Is this okay?”  His voice that close to my ear sends a jolt
straight to my pussy. 

Instead of answering him verbally, I take his hand that is
still on my hip and clasp it with mine.  I drag our joined hands upward and let
them rest against my chest.  My nerves are on high alert and it takes me a few
minutes to calm myself.  Eventually I realize, my breaths are matching Isaac’s
and I drift off into a blissful sleep with warm, strong arms holding me close.

Olivia - Four days later

It is a quarter till six on Friday night.  I am sitting on
the sofa in front of the TV, trying to distract myself, trying to calm my
nerves - because I have a date with Isaac Rossi.  In fifteen minutes, he will
be at my door to take me on a date – and I am seriously wondering if he is
sane.

After experiencing firsthand my clumsy nature and the
aftermath, after hearing me gush on and on about why I named my dog – Chewy and
don’t get me started on how I embarrassed myself telling him about my Marvel
comic book collection
and
my love of all things Avengers.  I’m pretty
sure I went full-fledged fangirl on him. 

After all that – he still wants to take me out on a date. 

He must be nuts.

Maybe I should back up some and explain what has happened in
the past few days.  The morning after my emergency room trip, I woke up to find
Isaac still at my house.  He stayed until the early evening hours.  Even when I
insisted that I was fine and he could leave if he wanted, he still stayed. 
That day we played our own version of twenty questions and learned many things
about each other.  This was the day when I told him I was a Star Wars fan (the
original trilogy) and that I named Chewy – Chewy in honor of the movie.  Then I
proceeded to chatter almost non-stop about my favorite bits in each movie.

On Wednesday, the dull throbbing in my arm was all but gone,
so I decided to go to the gym at my usual time.  I received a good morning text
from Isaac as I was pulling out of my garage.  Before backing into the street,
I texted him that I was on the way to the gym and I would see him shortly. 
That is when I learned that he had already been to the gym and was now heading
to work; turns out that he usually works out with his friends every morning at
7am.  Them working out on Monday later in the morning when I was there was a
fluke.  Apparently, they had all been up late the night before and not one of
them could drag their ass out of bed for their usual 7am workout. 

I was a little bit disappointed that I wouldn’t see him.  We
kept in touch throughout the day though – mostly via text, but on a few
occasions, he would call.  That night we talked on the phone until almost
midnight.  This was the night I told him about my Marvel comic book collection
when he asked if I had any hobbies, which morphed into a conversation about
movies based on comic books, which morphed into me going all fangirl about the
Avengers movies and the Avenger comics. 

When Thursday rolled around, I was ninety percent certain
that I had scared him off with my geeky-ness, but on my way to the gym, he sent
me a good morning text and asked me to call him if I could.  I instantly
activated my car’s blue tooth and called him.  He answered the phone with a
simple, “Morning Baby Girl” and my stomach did a little flip-flop.  We chatted
about benign things as I drove to the gym.

This was when he brought up the date we were supposed to
have Tuesday and asked me if I was available for a date the following night
(Friday).  I quickly said yes – instantly embarrassed that I was appearing too
eager, but he didn’t seem to notice.  We chatted a little bit more before he
had to get off the phone and once again, we texted and talked throughout the
day. 

When I asked him where we were going for our date, he said
it was a surprise, but he was certain that I would enjoy it.  He also informed
that I should wear something comfortable, that jeans were okay and to pull my
hair back. 

I ended up calling Jaqueline and Taylor to tell them about
my date and to get advice, but as usual, they were too busy to talk and
promised to call me back – they never did.

So here, I sit on my sofa, wearing a light pink, V-neck
cashmere sweater that I have paired with dark-washed jeans and my brown
distressed leather ankle boots that always make me feel sexy and badass.  I’ve
kept my jewelry simple with a pair of silver stud earrings and a silver
necklace with a floating heart charm.  My braids are pulled back into a low
ponytail.   

When the doorbell chimes a few minutes later, I am all a
flutter.  Chewy runs to the door and starts to bark.

“Chewy, hush!”  I admonish him softly.  He instantly pipes
down and sits his little furry behind down right by the door.  I look through
the peephole and sure enough, it’s Isaac.  I take a deep breath, hoping that
tonight goes well and open the door.

I come face to face with Mr. Dimples and he is looking all
kinds of irresistible.  He’s wearing dark-wash jeans too and they fit oh so
snug in all the right places.  I can see a white t-shirt peeking out at the
neck of his black crew-neck sweater.  The sweater showcases his broad shoulders
and lean torso – the perfect triangle. 

“Hi,” I say shyly.

“Hey,” he replies before leaning down.  His lips hover over
mine for a few seconds.  “Can I kiss you,” he asks.

I nod my head timidly before he brushes his lips against
mine – once - twice – and then he deepens the kiss.  The kiss is brief, but it
is enough to get me all hot and bothered. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since Monday,” he says as
he straightens back up and I usher him into the house and close the door.

Shit!  I think I need to change my panties.

He barks out a deep laugh.  That is when I know, my inner
thoughts are spilling out.  I slap my hands over my mouth – mortified. It is a
rare occurrence that I curse out loud or say un-ladylike things.  While I will
think all kinds of crass and crude things in my head, I rarely utter them
aloud. 

I remove my hands from my mouth. 

“I’m so sorry,” I say.  My face is hot with embarrassment. 
“I don’t know what is wrong with me.  I didn’t mean to say that.” 

He gives me that dimpled smile then leans down to me again. 

“Nothing is wrong with you.”  He is so close that his lips
are almost touching mine.  “And there is no need to apologize.  I like that I
have an effect on you.” 

Our lips are barely touching and I’m hoping that he kisses
me again. 

“Can I…”

I don’t even let him finish before I attack his mouth.  This
kiss is so different from the ones that we have previously shared.  This one is
not restrained, tender or sweet.  It’s aggressive, wild and has me wanting to
say the hell with our date.  We can just stay here and do this all night and
more.

 I moan into his mouth when he grips my ass with his big
hands and maneuvers me until I am pressed against the closed door.  He presses
his hips into me and I can feel something hard and big pressing against my
belly.  He stares down at me – his eyes full of intensity and something else I
can’t decipher. 

“Baby Girl,” he says gruffly.  “My control is hanging by a
thread – a very thin thread.” 

“Is that a bad thing?”  I ask softly.  I worry that I may
have been too aggressive with my kiss and have somehow turned him off.

“Not at all, but I want to take you on this date, so we need
to postpone this until later or we won’t be leaving this house anytime soon.”

I give what he just said a quick thought.  He wants to do
more of this this later – so apparently, I wasn’t too aggressive.  He leans in
and gives me a too brief kiss with a bit of tongue before backing away from
me.  His chest is heaving slightly as he looks at me.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I say with a blush.  “You look great too.”

I grab my black pea coat from the coat rack and I’m
surprised, yet pleased when Isaac assists me in putting it on.  After I tell
Chewy goodbye and lock up my house, Isaac ushers me to his big gray truck and
helps me into the passenger seat. 

As we drive to our date – which he still won’t tell me about
– we talk about the weather – it’s starting to feel like springtime – and how
my arm is feeling.

I am finally able to get my stitches wet.  I am not too fond
of looking at the evidence of my clumsiness; there is an angry red line with
black thread running from my wrist, up to the inside of my elbow, so I have
been keeping it covered with gauze.  The stitches are coming out next week and
I am glad of that because my arm itches like crazy.

After driving almost fifteen minutes, I am pleasantly
surprised when he pulls into the parking lot of a local cooking school. 
Apparently, our date will consist of a night of learning how to cook the
perfect springtime Tuscan meal.  During our time-period of playing our own
version of twenty questions, he knows that I love to cook and I know that he
does too.

After signing in and storing our belongings in lockers, we
are shown to the classroom – which is a big room with two industrial-sized
refrigerators situated against the back wall.  There are five ovens on the far
wall; five cooking stations arranged in the center of the room, each outfitted
with a sink and a stovetop.  At the front of the room, the menu of what we will
be cooking is written on a huge chalkboard that almost covers the entire wall.

Isaac leads me to a cooking station where he insists on
helping me put on my apron.

“Have you been here before,” I ask as he wraps the apron
strings around my waist before tying them in front. 

He shakes his head as he puts on his own apron.  “No, you
mentioned that you loved to cook and I thought this would be fun.”  He says
smiling down at me.  He has chosen to fold his apron in half and only wear it
on his lower half. 

As we discuss some of our favorite Italian dishes, I find my
nervousness from earlier completely gone.  I don’t know how he does it, but
Isaac has a way of putting me at ease.  As we continue to talk, the instructor
comes by with a large tray that has five plates with an assortment of appetizers
on them.  She begins to explain what each appetizer is, but I am only partially
paying attention, as I am more interested in watching other couples trickle
into the room.  She moves on to the next cooking station and Isaac holds up
what looks like a stuffed mushroom.  He moves it towards me, as if to feed me
and I slap a hand over my mouth.

Most stuffed mushrooms I have come across are stuffed
with some type of shellfish.

“There’s no shellfish in this or any of the food we will be
preparing tonight.”

In addition to being able to put me at ease, Isaac must
be a mind reader too.

“That’s why you don’t want to try it, right?” he asks as he
looks down at me.  “Before I registered us for this class, I called the school
to inquire about the menu and to let them know of your shellfish allergy.”

We have talked about so much stuff in the last few days that
I am surprised he remembered about my allergy.  I am touched at this
thoughtfulness. 

I uncover my mouth. 

“Thank you Isaac.” 

He gives me a boyish shrug as if it’s no big deal, before
offering me the stuffed mushroom again. 

“It’s stuffed with goat cheese, cream cheese and drizzled
with garlic butter.” 

I lean forward, taking what is offered from his fingers,
grazing his fingers with my teeth in the process.  The look he gives me makes
me want to ditch the class and go back to my house to continue what we started
earlier.

__________________________

 As we walk back to his truck, the air seems to crackle
around us.  The past three hours have gotten me all riled up because cooking
with Isaac is like foreplay.  And not just the regular foreplay either, I am
talking about the kind of foreplay that is teasing and borderline frustrating
and makes you want to beg for it.

He’s holding my hand as he leads me to his truck and I am
trying not to think how good those big hands would feel on my body.  I shake my
head slightly, knowing my thoughts are venturing into places where they
shouldn’t.  As much as I want to jump him and have my way with him, I know that
won’t be happening.  Even though I am somewhat sex-starved, I don’t want to
rush into anything and have him think I am too easy.

We reach his truck and once again, I’m reminded of how
male
he is as he crowds my personal space – which he has been doing most of the night. 
The faint smell of his cologne mixed with his own unique scent wafts over me. 
I find myself balling my hands into fists and digging my short nails into my
palms so I don’t rub up against him like a cat in heat.  When he helps me into
the passenger seat, I think his hands linger a bit longer than necessary around
my waist. 

I watch him as he climbs into the driver’s seat, starting
his truck and turning the heater on.  I shuck out of my coat because I am hot
all of a sudden and not because of the heater.

“Is it too warm already?” he asks as he turns slightly
towards me - reaching for the heat control. 

“No, it’s fine, I just don’t want this bulky coat on,” I
hedge.

He continues to look at me and I feel like I am about to go
up in flames from the way his eyes take me in. 

“That was really fun,” he finally says.  “We should
definitely do that again sometime.”

I nod absentmindedly as I start to have an outer body
experience.  I see myself move from my seat, climb over the middle console and
straddle Isaac’s lap.  Only it is not an outer body experience, I have actually
done it.  Without missing a beat, he reaches his right hand behind me to tilt
the steering wheel up so it doesn’t dig into my back before he turns the truck
off.  He then reaches down with his left hand and his seat starts to move
back. 

Since I am being bolder than I have ever been, I decide to
throw caution in the wind and kiss him.  The kiss is so much like the one we
shared back at my house.  It is unrestrained and brimming with hunger.  When I
feel him harden beneath me, I roll my hips trying to get some friction, which
causes him to growl into the kiss.  I absolutely
love
it when he wraps
his arms around me and holds me tight against him – as if he doesn’t ever want
to let me go.  It is then when he starts to dominate the kiss, slanting his
mouth this way and that way, thoroughly kissing me senseless.