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“Oliver, I’m breaking up with you.” And she was, she so was.
She totally was calling quits on their relationship, because she had just met the love of her life.
The church bells were ringing, angels were singing, and Felicity was half certain that she just had a mini orgasm.
“No you’re not.” Did nothing phase her boyfriend?
Yes, boyfriend. That’s right.
Let’s say it as a collective group now, with feeling, boyfriend.
She had accepted his offer to reach things on the high shelves on a permanent bias two weeks ago and, surprisingly, the word didn’t give her the panic attack that she thought it would. Not that he really gave her much choice. He went a tad on the caveman ‘you my woman now’ after the whole kidnapping incident during their first date. Silly man had his mind made up on her, even after she stole his wallet three time (she gave back – years later).
The detective and the hacker, a love story for the ages.
Not anymore however. No, now the tagline would be ‘the lasagna and the hacker, a love story for the ages.’
“Yes. Yes I am. It’s the only way I can marry this meal with a clean conscious.” She was going to marry it so hard and Felicity made the point to put that thought it the exaggeration of her words, which had no effect on Oliver as he just went right along with his meal as if they were discussing the weather and not the fact that she was leaving him for lasagna.
“You only just met.”
This was true, he had a point there. But the heart knows what it. Plus he fell for her from the get go, he had stars in his eyes and dreams of a Western themed wedding, which she had squashed very quickly.
Okay, so she might have proposed the Western themed wedding, but it was in jest. And at any rate, her mind was straying, she needed less Oliver thoughts and more lasagna thoughts.
“It’s true love and I’m about to let it get all up in me.” By eating it and then licking the plate clean. She wanted to make certain that every bit of perfection was in her body.
“Because you are planning on eating your true love.” He was doing the cocky-one-eyebrow-raise thing that he liked to do. It wasn’t fair that he was just so attractive, because she was half tempted to jump across the table when he looked at her like that.
‘That’ being like he found her endlessly entertaining and desirable. It didn’t matter if she were drying her pants in a public restroom or being saved from a tree or in a police interrogation room, the man always looked at her like she was the only thing he wanted to see. It had taken her a hot second to realize what that look meant and now, when it was laser focused on her, it made fire erupt across her skin.
He didn’t even need to touch her.
No, she was ready for him with just that look.
The ass.
“There is another way I’m supposed to show my affection? Pretty sure it’s how you show yours.”
The words tumbled out of her lips before she could stop them and therefore she decided to own them. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up or the way they darkened or his intake of breath. The imagine was now firmly placed in his mind.
She no longer had to suffer alone.
“I’m still not allowing the break up.”
Oh, his voice was rough and throaty. Felicity crossed her legs and quickly scooped a large forkful of lasagna in her mouth and let out a small moan of pleasure. It really was the best meal she had had in some time. Her skills in the kitchen were lacking at best, just the other day when Oliver had slept over, she’d managed to both burn and undercook pancakes before deciding that cereal was clearly the best breakfast of all time.
He’d been super impressed with her milk pouring skills.
“You can’t just stubborn your way into us not breaking up.” Well, he could. Mainly because they both knew she was joking.
Sort of.
“I made the lasagna.” Oliver’s response came quick as he lifted his final fork load to his lip and Felicity tracked the movement and tried to keep her thoughts on the discussion at hand. He made the meal that she wanted to break up with for so that she could marry. That was what they were talking about.
The man did have a point.
She’d sat, with her ass firmly planted on the counter, and made wise cracks while he did all of the work. It should be noted that she had offered to help only to have him quickly shut her down.
Clearly the pancake incident was still fresh in his mind.
It had been nice though; cooking and not just ordering in. Oliver had been working a case which had kept him busy, so he would pick up food for them, and then some nights head back into work. Not tonight though. No tonight was just the two of them and the orgasm on a plate that he called a meal.
“I guess I do need you around to actually make my one true love.”
“And the garlic bread.” Olive just had to bring attention to the other piece of art on her plate. Ada Lovelace help her, the way his eyes lit up and that smile should be illegal. She wondered if it would ever lose its impact on her. Felicity figured the answer would be no. And on top of his good looks and kinda charming personality, he could cook.
“Yes, the garlic bread to end all garlic bread. I could write sonnets about it. Only that’s a lie, my creative writing skills are atrocious at best, but I can write the best code all day long. Which is not on topic.” Felicity waved her hands in front of her as if she could make the off-topicness disappear, before collecting herself, “Fine, I’ll keep you around.”
“Thank you, I know it’s a hardship on your part.”
“True. I should be sainted for dealing with all your hardness.” Her mind was in the gutter. She officially gave up reigns because her boyfriend was hot and could cook and like her for her, and she was different.; polite company would call her ‘interesting’ but everyone knew what that meant. Felicity was the criminal’s daughter, who led a life on the constant move and who talked too much. She wasn’t someone who people would expect detective Oliver Queen, of the Starling City Queen’s, to fall for.
It didn’t matter though. They were perfect together.
Two weeks together and she was saying they were perfect. Oh dear.
She was lost.
She had swooned so damn hard for the man.
She’d swooned the first time she met him, it had been the reason she had stayed far away, because no. However, the universe had other plans in mind, and now she was eating a meal he had cooked for them in his loft and her toothbrush was in his bathroom.
They sat on a ninety degree angle from one another, seat at the corner edge of the table, and Oliver closed the distance to swipe his thumb at some sauce on her lip. Felicity was done with the lasagna for the time being. Screw a food induced orgasm when she could have an Oliver induced one instead.
“Mr. Queen, you look positively predatory.” Her voice came out on a signal breath as she watched his eyes narrow with extreme focus on her. Ada Lovelace, the man could undo her with just his eyes and a single touch alone. Her thighs trembled with anticipation, while the heat that had stirred low in her abdomen exploded into a blaze of desire and dampness to gather, causing her to cross her legs in hopes of relieving some of the pressure that was building.
She was going to die if he didn’t do something.
No joke.
Oliver gave a bright smile before capturing her lips in his in a playful kiss which cause Felicity to smile into it. Every time they kissed, her sense exploded, and soon the playful kiss turned more heated. He nipped at her lower lip and his fingers threaded through her hair. His rough overgrown scruff, scratched against her delicate skin as they fought for more.
Felicity wanted to be closer, to feel him pressed against her, but the blast table was in the way, and she had never hated a table so much in her entire life. Then Oliver moved from his seat, breaking the contact to which she responded with a groan of protest and then a squeal of delight as he lifter her up and out of the chair.
Oh, she knew where this was going. Well, she hoped she did.
He moved them down to the unused portion of the table and lowered her on top.
This was so going where she hoped it was going and she was internally praising herself for just wearing one of his shirts this evening.
Easy access.
Plus he got that male look of possessiveness whenever she did so. It was hot, almost as hot as the sly grin that was pulling at his lips as he surveyed her sitting in front of him.
“Where is your brain at Oliver?”
She knew where his brain was, could see the hunger in his eyes. Opening her legs a bit farther, he pressed closer into her, his fingers digging into the flesh at her hips as he pulled her flush against him. She rocked her hips with a slow ease that betrayed her thundering heart as he made to slip her glasses from her and place them out of harm’s way, before returning to push the hem of the shirt up and slip his finger in the band of her underwear.
“I think it’s time to show my affection.”
Forget lasagna, Felicity was going to marry this man one day.