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TWENTY-NINE
OCTAVIA
Isigh in relief as soon as the door shuts behind our guests.
"I've never been so happy to have some peace and quiet." The clock’s hands above the T.V point to midnight, meaning that I successfully kept Oakley away from Adam for a whopping six hours. It was a more difficult task than I thought it would be.
"I think I'm in a food coma." I shift my eyes from the glimmering lights on the Christmas tree and to Oakley. He runs his fingers through my loose curls, and I let my heavy eyes fall shut.
"You wanna go to bed?” he asks gently.
"I almost forgot about your other present!" I mentally scold myself and jump up from the couch, almost tripping on the coffee table. I hurry into my room, Oakley trailing closely behind. "Where did I put it?"
Of course I would forget where I hid it.
"Are you looking for this?" Oakley asks, holding the box wrapped in Santa Claus wrapping paper. He sits on the edge of my bed and waves me over. "It was on your desk."
His hands tear through the paper eagerly when I nod. The tissue paper crinkles as he pulls it away, revealing the Vancouver Warrior's jersey under it.
"Flip it over," I mumble, my voice quiet and unsteady. He carefully pulls out the jersey and turns it around. A solid two minutes pass in silence. I bite my lip and bounce my leg on the hardwood floor. "If you hate it, I can return it," I blurt out nervously.
"Hate it? I'm trying not to cry." Oakley's voice cracks. "This is the best gift I've ever gotten." He stares at the back of the jersey, his mouth agape. He runs his finger over the embroidery that reads, Jamie #11.
My heart flutters in my chest, and I blow out a massive sigh of relief. "You do? I didn't want to upset you."
I really didn't. I just wanted him to have something to remind him of his dad that also reflects what he loves. My goal was to help him see that he can think of his dad's passing in a way that isn't all heartbreak. He can look at this jersey as a way to remember all of the good memories.
"I don't think I could be any more in love with you even if I tried," he says with so much conviction my heart swells, making me question whether or not it's actually possible for one's heart to literally burst through their chest.
"Wanna try?" I inch closer to him and wrap my leg up around his waist. I run my arms up his arms, paying extra attention to his overly large biceps.
His eyes darken and he leans in to whisper, "You're playing a dangerous game here, Ava," in my ear. His eyes travel up and down my torso until they come to a stop at my cleavage—then he bites his lip.
I brush my lips across his, making the pulled lip slip from his teeth. "Who doesn't like a little danger every once in a while?"
He groans, holding me tighter. "I can't promise I'll be able to stop this time."
"So don't," I breathe and tug his hair slightly.
He grabs my hips and puts his mouth on mine at last. I gasp, surprised by the ferocity of the kiss. His fingers dig into my hips as he nips at my bottom lip.
"Morgan's not coming back home tonight, right?"
"No. Now stop talking," I command.
He flips us around and lays me down on my bed. Oakley positions himself over me, using his elbows to hold himself up. He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. My body aches for him to touch me where I need him most, but he continues to tease me.
He kisses my neck and murmurs filthy things in my ear, only irritating me more as I can feel the hardness in his jeans when he grinds against my thin panties. Growing far too annoyed by the lack of skin-on-skin contact, I grab the buckle of his belt and undo it with trembling fingers.
"You first," he growls, swiftly pinning my wrists above my head.
He pulls my skirt down my legs and throws it somewhere on the floor. His breaths are ragged as he stares at my near-naked body, and I watch in awe as his eyes darken with clear desire.
He ducks his head to suck at the pulse point in my throat, no doubt leaving marks for me to deal with tomorrow. Amid the assault on my neck, I buck my hips as he rips my bra off. A moan escapes my lips when I feel a sudden hot, wet heat on my nipple.
He uses his other hand to finally give me what I need. I arch my back and moan again, unable to stop myself. He uses his thumb to rub small circles against my clit, and I bite my lip to stifle the moans. He slowly drags my underwear down my legs and drops them onto the floor.
With my body bared in front of him, nerves come over me in a fury. I haven't been with anyone in a year and I can't even imagine how many girls Oakley has been in that time.
