Slightly chuckling, I lean forward, my check brushing against hers, my lips grazing her ear. “One night Addison . . . one night I’m going to make you mine and you’ll never question your heart again, but it’s not going to be tonight.”
Her body deflates and her hands grip my biceps. “Will you at least drink with me?” she finally asks.
I stand and pull her with me. We climb over to my apartment. “I’ll do one better, I’ll drink with you and I’ll make you dinner.”
We are on my favorite dark blue lounge chair, she’s settled between my legs, her back resting on my chest. We’ve eaten, we’ve talked and we’ve drunk—a lot. I’d laid it on the line as best I knew how; I’m looking for a lot more than one night. She’d processed that information, and had been unreadable since.
She’s holding her wine glass in one hand and gripping my thigh with the other as she leans back and looks towards the dark, star filled sky. The wind has kicked up and is bringing the smell of ocean air around us.
“Would you rather go a year without coffee or a year without television?”
Addison sits up and stares at me. “Are we playing ‘Would You Rather?’”
I shrug. “Yeah, you game?”
She sits back down, her free hand tapping my thigh as she thinks. “Television. I can’t live without my coffee. Would you rather go a year without working out or a year without sex?”
“Sex.” I say without a second thought. She sits back up and stares at me horrified. “What?” I ask. “You can’t live without sex? Is this something new I should know about you, Green Eyes?”
Laughing she lays back down, “Oh, I can live without sex, Christ, I just got out of a five year dry spell, but I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone to deny themselves.”
Crap, Matt’s the only man she’s ever had sex with. No wonder she’s so hung up on the dude.
“Guess, you just learned something new about me,” I say, as I squeeze her tighter.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a little while longer, her hand still firmly placed on my thigh and my arms secure around her small frame.
“I’m in love with tonight.” Her voice is slow and husky, her body relaxed and resting comfortably on top of mine.
Entwining her fingers with my own, I gently run my thumb along her soft skin, feeling the delicate bones underneath. “Always love your life, Addison, It’s the only one you’ve got.”
“There hasn’t been much to love about it lately.” She finishes her wine and leans forward to pour herself another glass, her fingers leaving mine cold and empty. We’re on our third bottle and I know I’m feeling it, I’m sure she’s beyond buzzed at this point.
After refilling both our empty glasses, she’s snuggling back down, her head fitting right under my chin and my arms instantly wrapping around her. “You met me, Green Eyes, that should be reason enough to love your life.”
Her gentle laugh vibrates through my chest and I hold her tighter, my lips coming down on the top of her head.
“You’re not allowed to kiss me, Offside.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, and it’s a tease to kiss my head and not my lips.”
After kissing her head again, I lean forward and slide her hair away from her neck. My lips grace the area right below her hairline, bringing her soft skin between my teeth and gently biting. She shivers and her body scrunches up smaller in my arms. “I’m not a tease, Addison. Only a realist and I really wanted to taste you.” I gently bite her again.
“Damian.” It’s a whisper, the word escaping her lips in one solid exhale.
“I’m not going anywhere, Addison. When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. And then I’ll bite a lot more than the back of your neck.”
“I’ve been ready for weeks. What more do you need?” My heart hammers against my chest, my body hums with the need to touch her everywhere, to be consumed by her, but fuck . . . I need all of her, not only a tiny piece.
“No doubts, no regrets. I want all of you, every part. The good, the bad, and the perfect. When you’re ready to give me you, I’m all yours.”
I feel her stiffen in my arms, her breath catching on an inhale as she realizes what I’m asking for. She can’t give me what I need, at least not yet, and we both know it, but she feels too perfect lying here in my arms to make any of this stop. My fingers trail along her arms, and she shifts, turning so she’s facing me.
“What if I’m never ready for that?” Her words are beginning to slur, her eyes taking on a half-lidded gaze as she continues to sip on the wine.
Running a finger down her rosy cheek and over her curved red lips, I look her in the eyes. “You will be. I’ll make sure of it.”
Smiling, she lies back down and continues to drink.
“Show me photos of you when you were a kid?”
Is she serious with that question?
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I want to see what you looked like.”
I can’t believe I’m about to honor this request, but I do have an album my mom put together and brought up to me. It’s embarrassing that I keep it in my bedroom closet, but I’m not functioning full throttle so I walk her inside, both of us barely able to stand upright. Sitting her on my sofa, I bring her a bottle of water, down one myself, and go fetch the album.
She turns each page slowly, one by one as she examines the photos.
“Wait, you have seven brothers and sisters?” She looks up confused.
I can’t help but laugh at her unfocused eyes and the way her mouth is falling open in complete shock.
“Yep, and I’m the oldest. I thought I told you that?”
“No, you’re pretty secretive when it comes to all your personal biz.”
My life hasn’t been exactly perfect. Sure, I’m rich as fuck, but nobody knows that. And the accident? No need to dredge that shit up. So I guess she’s right, I haven’t told her much about me. Drunk is probably not the best time to start letting her in on all my dirty little secrets.
“Why do they look nothing like you?”
“I’m half Brazilian and my siblings aren’t.” Not sure if this is the time to tell Addison that I’m a bastard child of a world famous soccer player or just let it slide, I give her as little details as possible.
“My dad is not their dad. But he wasn’t interested in having a family, so he sent money, visited every so often and my mom married someone else.”
“Walker’s not a very South American last name.” It’s a statement but I can hear the questions behind it. She’s getting a lot out of me tonight and I don’t feel the usual panic that always comes when someone tries to dig deeper into my past. So, I move forward, giving her as little information as she needs to put the pieces together.
“I took my stepdad’s name when I turned sixteen. Didn’t want to slide through life on my dad’s back. Revilino is a pretty well-known name in the soccer world.” She looks at me when I say my given last name, and her eyes are curious, clearly a recognition there. But she’s not placing it. “Google it.” She nods and goes back to the photos.
“Do you like your stepdad?” She’s stopped looking at the book and has focused all of her attention on me.
“I love him. He’s never been anything but a dad to me.”
She continues to stare at me, a concern on her face that I’ve never seen before.
“What about your real dad?”
“What about him?”
“Do you love him, too?”
“What do you mean you’re quitting football?” His thick Brazilian accent is coming through full force letting me in on exactly how angry he is. His refusal to call it soccer when he knows it bugs me that he’s never once tried to take on any of my American upbringing.