Signal Fire
Chapter 3
He’d almost lost her. Oliver couldn’t rid himself of the image of the gunman pointing and shoving the barrel of his pistol against the back of Chloe’s head. He’d wanted to kill the bastard for touching her, and had to force himself to aim for the man’s shoulder instead of his heart. The look of fear in her eyes, as the suit tried to shove her toward the sedan flashed in his mind. And Phil. Something was going on there, he wasn’t certain exactly what it was, but the guy was a bit too touchy-feely with Chloe. Oliver didn’t like it one bit, and he continued to kiss her possessively, gloved hands roving over her back, clutching her hips pulling her against him, as though staking claim, and thanking God that he’d been there to thwart what might have happened next. He’d find out who those men were and what they wanted with her. But for now; now she was here, safe in his arms, and the combination of nearly losing her along with the twinge of jealousy he felt over her coworker, mingled together; swirling inside him to create an imperative need for her.
Oliver almost didn’t allow her to come up for air. His mouth took hers, insistent, impatient, hungry; his tongue exploring the roof of her mouth, and delving deeper as though he would use it to count her teeth. Chloe was nearly stunned at his passionate assault, her head spinning. These were definitely not the kisses of a man who’d recently snuck off to be with another woman, but it still didn’t explain what she’d seen at the restaurant, and she needed to talk to him. Unless he’s feeling guilty about it, a tiny voice in her head chimed in.
“Ollie,” she struggled for air, attempting to pull away. His lips followed hers, but she wasn’t going to let him kiss her senseless and make her forget everything. “Wait… hold on…” she panted in between kisses.
He reluctantly lifted his head inches from hers. “Good idea. Hold on,” he breathed, reaching behind him with one arm to grasp his crossbow, and grip her firmly against him with the other. She watched him aim and shoot an arrow into the darkening sky, heard the metallic whine of the zip line, and before she could speak again, they were lurching upward, Chloe clinging to his neck. She was used to this by now, but it still never failed to make her heart stop and her stomach drop. Chloe pressed her cheek against the leather that covered his chest; this man whom she loved and admired; he was her own hero. Her heart began aching all over again at the vision of the dark haired woman rubbing herself seductively against him. The vision seemed to grow worse each time she replayed it, taking on an exaggerated life of its own.
They landed on the rooftop of a nearby building. Oliver gazing down at her, took her face in his gloved hands. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, searching her eyes, still somewhat out of breath from all that kissing.
“No. I’m not all right.”
“What happened? Did they hurt you?” He took a step away now, holding her at arm’s length, cupping her shoulders and giving her a once over, as though he’d examine her further for any sign of injury.
“No. Oliver…” Chloe swallowed, feeling as though her heart was in her throat. “I saw you earlier… at Del Monaco’s.” She left the accusation hanging in the air between them.
He didn’t get it. At first. “You were there? Why didn’t you meet me then?”
Ugh. Men. You had to paint pictures for them. She folded her arms over her chest. “You were busy. You had your hands full. A dark-haired supermodel was rubbing her double-D’s all over you? Or don’t you remember that part?”
Oliver lowered his hood, and removed his dark glasses. He turned off his voice distorter. “Adriana.” Shit.
“Just… tell me the truth, Ollie. Whatever you do… please don’t lie…” she felt herself on the verge of tears, but held them back. She wanted to know, but didn’t at the same time. “Please,” she added softly.
So she’d seen the worst part of it, but must have left right before he did. “You saw me there, and then left? If you’d stuck around, you’d have seen that nothing happened.”
That’s not quite what she wanted to hear. Not exactly. She lowered her arms, clenching her fists at her sides. “Why should I stand around and watch my boyfriend being groped, and looking as though he’s enjoying it!”
“Because maybe then you’d have seen me push her away, and leave!”
“Who is she, Oliver?” While she waited for his response, her heart raced with anxiety.
Oliver released a long breath. “She’s someone I knew a long time ago. Before I ever went to Metropolis, before Lois. I honestly didn’t want to go to Del Monaco’s, because I thought she might be there… it’s where she worked. I only agreed to meet you there, because we haven’t spent much time together… hell, you spend more time with your buddy Phil.”
“Phil has nothing to do with this.”
“No? He certainly seems very attached to you.”
“Don’t turn this around on me. I know what I saw.”
“I saw a few things tonight too. I didn’t appreciate his wandering hands all over my girlfriend.”
“What? He was trying to keep me away from those men!”
“After they’d gone? Come on, Chloe. Do you really not know when men are attracted to you? You didn’t realize it when Davis Bloom was sniffing around, and you don’t see it now with Phil?”
“Ugh! This is not about me! I have no interest in Phil, and I’ve done nothing to encourage him.”
“And I didn’t encourage Adriana. You didn’t see the whole thing. I pushed her away, left, and called you on my way out.”
“But you lied! You didn’t even say you were there!”
“What was I supposed to say over the phone, Chloe? And on your voicemail no less? That I ran into a former booty call, and had to leave? I just needed to get out of there. I couldn’t stay and wait for you any longer with her around. Would you rather I stayed at the bar with her?” He paced the rooftop in agitation. “Men hold you at gunpoint, and you’re more worried about this?” Women. Would he ever understand them?
“Yes! Men with guns I can deal with, women throwing themselves at you, is a little more difficult for me.” It didn’t happen often, but she knew it was one of those times when old insecurities rose to the fore once again. She was good at masking them under a veil of confidence, set apart somewhere in the recesses of her psyche. She thought she’d outgrown them. But now after seeing a beautiful woman hanging all over him, she couldn’t stop them, and the realization that she was still crippled by those old memories of her days in Smallville came as a disappointing shock.
“It was a long time ago, Chloe. We had an affair. It didn’t last long, and didn’t mean anything. She’d lied to me about being married. I ended it. For a while she kept after me, but I was done. A few months afterward I went to Metropolis, and well, you know the rest.”
All the fight left her, and she deflated before his eyes. She glanced away from him, blinking away the tears that threatened. “It just… it hurt. I never realized just how much seeing something like that would hurt, Ollie.” Hurt because she couldn’t help but be reminded of how it felt to see someone she cared for in the arms of another. Because she was always the one that was overlooked, because she was never enough, always just the friend and nothing more, because she wasn’t supposed to be the kind of woman a man like Oliver Queen loved. She wasn’t a starlet or a debutante or a supermodel. He was handsome and intelligent, witty, charming, worldly. And she was always just… overlooked. How could she tell him that there were times she simply felt unworthy of him? She’d even once told Lois, that Oliver was out of her league.
Oliver hated seeing the pain and accusation in her eyes. Herein lay one of their major differences. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, but what it boiled down to in his mind were elements of the typical good girl meets bad boy story. She’d only ever been with one other man; Jimmy. And for years had crushed on Clark. Chloe wasn’t the kind of woman to give herself away freely, but when she did, she gave all her loyalty. In contrast, Oliver had been more experienced, and worldly, hell if he was truly honest with himself, he’d been the male equivalent of a slut. It was one of the few things that at times made him feel unworthy of her. He wasn’t as honorable and noble as Clark, or as sweet and innocent as Jimmy, and knowing this beautiful woman gave herself to him completely, never asking any questions about his past, was utterly humbling to him. Not even when Tess had taunted her, did she ask him to reveal anything, and although she’d known about the playboy reputation, and was hesitant at first, ultimately she’d accepted him, and loved him in spite of what he felt were his shortcomings. He’d never tell her this, he refused to let her glimpse his vulnerability, but at this moment, it made him wonder if he truly deserved a woman like Chloe. “I’m sorry you saw that,” he said, his voice becoming gentle and compassionate. “But nothing happened, Chloe. I swear it.”
At the earnest sincerity in his voice, she lifted her eyes to his. “You didn’t kiss her?” she asked, but there was no accusation in her voice, only hope in his forthcoming answer.
“I didn’t. I left. Went home, then geared up for patrolling. That’s why I’m here now.”
“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, you wouldn’t have told me,” she responded quietly.
“No.” He came to stand before her, gloved fingers lifting her chin. “I wouldn’t have,” he admitted softly. “What would be the point of it? To hurt you, the way you’re hurting now? Nothing happened. It means nothing to us. I love you, Chloe. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I’ve never had this with anyone before, and wouldn’t jeopardize what I have with you. Why don’t you give me any credit, that I just might be smart enough to know and appreciate what I already have at home?” He cupped her cheek in his palm, and lowered his head slowly, pressing his lips to her forehead, as though testing whether or not she’d accept his touch. Thankfully, he felt her body relax against his. His lips moved over her temple and down her cheek. “Why fool around with hamburger, when I have steak at home?” he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear.
“Paul Newman,” she sighed, sniffling as a tear slipped down her cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Huh?”
“Paul Newman said that once about Joanne Woodward. And they were married for fifty years.”
“I knew I heard that somewhere before.” Oliver pulled her closer, enfolding her up completely in his arms, relieved that the tension between them was passed. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her. She snuggled against him, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of leather and Oliver. He buried his face in her hair. “Fifty years, huh? Maybe there’s hope for us yet.”
Chloe lifted her head to peer up at him, resting her chin against his chest. Her lips curved slightly in a teasing smile. She’d forgiven the misunderstanding, and that’s all he wanted. She sniffled once more. “Maybe.”
Oliver’s hand came up to brush away the tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He stared down at her, and Chloe could feel the heat sizzling in his brown eyes, stirring her own desires. Her gaze snared with his and her pulse flickered and leapt. He watched her lashes flutter closed as he tipped her head, cradling it in his palm. His mouth slanted, hovering over hers momentarily before he claimed her, hot and swift, exploiting her mouth for all it was worth. He might not deserve her, but he’d be damned if he was ever going to lose her.
Oliver wrapped an arm around her, his mouth never leaving hers, half carrying, half pulling her to a darkened corner of the roof, where a wall formed another floor of the building. He backed her up against it, towering over her, capturing her with his hard body. His hands were soon straying, skimming downward over the lush curves of her hips, and inching her skirt upward. The brush of gloved fingertips grazing her thighs made her shiver in anticipation as he shoved up her skirt, large hands moving to grasp her softness, clutching and kneading the rounded flesh of her bottom through her panties as he ground his hips against her.
Too many days of pent up need for each other were unleashed. Chloe’s fingertips skittered over the edge of his leather pants tugging on them desperately, seeking the part of him she wanted, slipping her fingers inside, finding the tip of him wet, he was rock hard against his belly and straining to be released. She undid the codpiece, finding and encircling him; his velvety shaft large, heavy and warm in her hand. She stroked him, his groan vibrating into her mouth. Somehow, her panties were gone. He’d frantically ripped them from her body, yanking them off of her, until they fell in a torn heap near their feet. Seconds later, Chloe felt herself being lifted in his powerful arms as though she were weightless.
She clung to his neck, sinking onto his body as he impaled her, sheathing himself inside the soft, hot clasp of her body with one swift thrust of his hips. Chloe cried out softly, and Oliver gasped aloud as she took him in; the sound turning into a growl in the back of his throat. He rocked his lower body against her, pushing her back against the brick wall, plunging hard. Harder. He nuzzled her ear and nipped at her neck, as he drove into her relentlessly, his breath whispering over her skin. He breathed words by turns both profoundly tender and sensuously risqué, telling her how good she felt, how much he loved and wanted her, how much he loved fucking her.
Chloe answered him, whispering his name in anxious abandon, her own breathless words urging him to take her ever deeper, wanting more of him, all of him. Her body milked him as small spasms ran through her, clenching around him. She writhed and rubbed her pubic bone against him, her climax building with every deep, possessive plunge he took, sensing his passion rising to its peak in unison with hers. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, sliding up and diving into his hair, she gripped the short blond strands between her fingers, tugging on them, bringing his head up until his forehead rested against hers. They panted, breathing each other’s breath, until they were both so far gone, bodies shaky with passion and desire, until it surged and swelled between them, groans and cries escaping them both as waves of ecstasy washed over them, carrying them to the brink and beyond. Oliver filled her with his warmth until he had no more to give her, and Chloe joyfully accepted, welcoming his release as her womb fluttered with spasms, contracting, her entire body shuddering.
Aftershocks made their bodies tremble. Oliver couldn’t move. Didn’t dare try. He was holding her up against the wall, her thighs draped over his arms, still buried inside her. He didn’t trust his muscles to obey his commands just yet. As they struggled for air, he closed his eyes, bushing his nose against hers, nuzzling her, and then dropping soft kisses on her face and throat, his blood still simmering. Chloe managed a lazy smile, her eyes glazed over, languid and spent, she rubbed her cheek against his before her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder.
Long moments passed before they shifted, and Oliver slipped from her body, lowering her gently to her feet. Chloe’s legs nearly buckled from under her, but he held her up, both of them chuckling lightly. They stood together wrapped in each other’s arms for a time.
Chloe sighed contentedly. “That was... amazing…” she whispered, her voice trailing off dreamily as soft fingertips stroked him, wandering appreciatively over his hard, well-muscled biceps and shoulders.
Oliver’s chuckle vibrated in his chest against her ear. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s enjoy it while we can, angel. Fifty years from now, I won’t be in any shape to do that.”
End Chapter 3
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