Chapter 15

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Blakely

I’m light on my feet as I make my way to his front door. It’s Saturday morning, and I have Christmas shopping to do. I cheated and asked Oliver if he wanted to hang out today. I didn’t tell him what I had planned, just that we’d make a day of it. He agreed, and the devil on my shoulder laughed that I was tricking him.

I knock on the door, barely containing my excitement. Oliver answers with a welcoming smile, inviting me in. “Have you had breakfast? I just made a bagel.”

“I had some fruit and yogurt, but thank you.” I take off my coat and toss it over the back of the couch. We won’t be here long. “Are you ready for today?”

He quirks a brow. “What are we doing?” he asks cautiously. “I thought we were just spending the day together.”

I spill the beans. “Oh, we are, but we’re going shopping.”

“Shopping?” He scrunches up his nose. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, we have to. I have some more gifts to buy, and I don’t like waiting until the last minute.”

“How many people do you buy for?”

“Well, we do things a little differently since there are so many of us. We started it several years ago. Once all of us kids learned that Santa wasn’t real. The kids, meaning my generation, all draw names, and then my parents and my aunts and uncles draw names. Everyone buys for my grandparents because, let’s face it, nine boys and Ramsey later in life, they’ve earned it.” I chuckle.

“So, whose name did you get?”

“Ivy. She’s sixteen. She’s Uncle Sterling and Aunt Alyssa’s oldest.”

“Okay, so we’re shopping for Ivy. Who else is on your list?” he asks as he takes a bite of his bagel.

“I need to get my parents a little something to finish off their gifts, and I still buy for my siblings because I can and I want to. I also need to get something for Isla and my gift exchange at the office.”

“That’s… a lot of shopping.”

“Oh, come on, old man,” I tease. “It’ll be fun.”

“Shopping is not my idea of fun, Blake. Fun would be staying in and being wrapped up with you on the couch, kissing you until we’re both gasping for breath.”

Heat pools between my thighs. “We can do that after.” After shopping and after we wrap presents while we listen to Christmas music—something else he doesn’t know about yet.

“Fine.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine. “You’re hard to say no to.”

“Perfect.” I smile up at him.

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes! I love buying stuff for people. Picking out something you know they’re going to love.”

“Do you get this giddy over receiving gifts too?”

“Close, but not quite.” I grin at him.

He shoves the last bit of his bagel into his mouth. “All right, let’s get this over with. I see lots of kisses in your future, Ms. Kincaid.”

“Something to look forward to.” I wink, making him laugh.

“I’ll drive.”

“We can take my car.”

“Mine has more storage in the back. I have a feeling we might need it for all your purchases.”

My mouth falls open, and I point my index finger at him. “I like the way you think, Ollie. I need to grab my purse.”

“I’ll open the garage, and you can pull your car into the other bay. It’s supposed to snow today. That will keep it from freezing over.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to cleaning my car off.”

“Well, today you won’t have to.”

“You’re not all grump.” I smile at him before rushing outside to pull my car into his garage. We have shopping to do.

“I expected you to drag me into every store in this mall,” Oliver says as we sit in the food court having lunch.

“Oh, I’ve done that,” I assure him. “I don’t want to torture you. I want you to enjoy the day, not loathe it.”

“I’m with you.”

“What?”

“I’m with you. I’m enjoying the day… no matter what we’re doing.”

“See, there you go, hiding your grump for your sweet.”

He laughs, and the sound washes around me like a warm blanket. “Call it the Blakely effect.”

“Oh, you named your sweetness after me. I like it.” I nod.

“What’s left on your list, crazy girl?”

“The only person left on my list is Isla. We’ve made good use of our time.”

He glances down at the bags at our feet. “Yeah, I’d say we have.”

“What about you? Do you have anyone left on your list?”

“Just one, but I don’t know what I’m getting yet. I still need to think about it.”

“Okay, well, I’m down for another shopping trip. You let me know when you’re ready.”

“You’ll be my first call.”

I start piling our trash on our tray and glance over at where Santa and his elves are set up. “You want another picture with Santa?”

“Do you?”

“Wait. Are you willing?”

“Can’t say no to you, remember?”

“There’s no line. Let’s do it.”

“Really? We already have one.”

“I know, but this one will be different. This one you weren’t forced.”

“I wasn’t forced before.”

“Yeah, but this time you’re doing it for me.” I bat my eyelashes at him and jut out my bottom lip.

“I don’t like Christmas,” he reminds me.

“But you like me,” I counter.

“Yeah, I do.” He stands and grabs our tray. “Let’s go get our picture taken with Santa.”

“Yes!” I’m out of my seat, gathering our bags, and lugging them to the line. Oliver joins me, taking the majority of the load from my hands. There are now a few kids in front of us, but the line moves quickly.

When it’s our turn, we pile our bags off to the side, where someone can’t just walk by and snag them. I go to sit on Santa’s lap, but Oliver stops me, plopping his ass down on Santa’s knee and pulling me onto his.

“Sorry, Santa,” Oliver says. “I’m the only one who gets to hold my girl.”

Santa gives us a belly jiggling “Ho, Ho, Ho,” and when I smile for the camera, it has nothing to do with the fact that my grumpy man friend is getting his picture with Santa for me for the second time this season, but it’s his words that light my smile and keep it on my face.

After grabbing our bags, we head over to get our picture. “Two, please,” Oliver tells her. The elf prints us two copies and places them in cardboard Christmas-themed frames as Oliver hands over the cash. He passes me one of the copies and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Merry Christmas, Blake.”

My heart does this weird pitter-patter, almost as if it’s skipping inside my chest. I thought he was this grumpy man who was holding all his hurt inside and that it would take extreme effort to get him to even consider celebrating anything Christmas. Now, here he is, being all sweet and handing me Christmas gifts. I’m sure he thinks it’s just a picture, but I know better. It’s a picture of me with a man that I’m falling dangerously fast for. That wasn’t part of the plan, but he’s making it impossible not to fall for him. My heart will cherish this picture when he decides this is over.

“Thank you, Ollie.” I place the picture inside one of my bags for safekeeping.

“Where to?” he asks. He has no idea how he just flipped my world upside down.

“Um, I want to get Isla a new case for her Kindle. Hers is all gross—her words, not mine.”

“Where do we go for that?”

“Actually, I think I’ll order it online.”

“She reads a lot.”

“I do too. You just don’t see that side of me.” That’s probably because when we’re together outside of work, either other people are around or our lips are locked. Sure, my reading time has taken a little bit of a hit, but you’re not going to catch me complaining about that, not when the alternative is Oliver and his kisses.

“I’ve never seen you with an e-reader.”

“Yeah, mine died a few months ago, and I’ve just never replaced it. I have the app on my phone, so I’ve been using that. It’s just as convenient.”

“So, where else are we headed?” he asks.

“I’m going to order her case online, and I think I’ll get her a gift card, too, for books. I don’t usually like to give gift cards, but as a book lover, I know that’s going to be one of her favorite gifts.”

“So, we’re done shopping?” he asks hopefully.

“Almost. I have one more stop to make. Do you mind taking me to a Target or Walmart?”

“You know I will.” He grabs a few more of my bags out of my hands, even though I’m perfectly capable of carrying them myself, and we make our way to the car. The drive is short and filled with comfortable silence. Neither one of us feels the need to talk. We just enjoy being with each other. That’s a first for me. Usually, I can’t stop talking, but right now, I’m just glad I’m here with the man who I never in my life imagined I’d be falling for.

“Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun,” I tell Oliver as we pull into his garage.

“It wasn’t terrible.” He winks. “Do you want to load all this into your car now or later?”

“Now. I’ll need to get home and start wrapping.”

“What? No. Nope, that was not the deal, Blakely Kincaid.”

“Did we have a deal?” I ask.

“You know we did. Cuddling on the couch and kisses, that was the plan.”

“Well, maybe I can come back after I get all these wrapped? I don’t want to put it off so I can mark it off my to-do list.” It’s taking a lot of effort to keep a straight face. I kinda feel bad for manipulating him into wrapping presents with me, but he’s making it so damn easy.

“Can’t you do that here? You got everything you needed at our Target stop, right? Do it here. You said all day.” He glances at the clock on the dash of his SUV that’s still on because we have not opened the doors yet. “This is not all day.”

“It’s four in the afternoon. I think that classifies as all day.”

“Nope. You’re wrapping them here.” He gets out of the SUV, opens the back, and starts hauling bags into the house.

I sigh heavily when he returns to the garage for another trip. “If you can’t beat them, join them,” I muse.

“There’s my girl.” He drops a kiss to my temple and takes in another load. He has no idea he just made my heart stutter.

I’m grinning like a fool and humming “Santa Baby” with the last of our packages. “I got everything, but I didn’t shut the garage door. I wasn’t sure which button it was.”

“Mine is the top button. Your door is the bottom button. I’ll close it.”

My door.

I block that out. I don’t need to get more attached to this man than I already am. I clean off the kitchen island and start unpacking bags.

“I’m going to go change into something more comfortable.” Oliver again stops long enough to kiss the corner of my mouth before heading down the hallway to his bedroom to change.

That gives me time to unbox and plug in the small tabletop fiber-optic tree I bought. I told him it was for my mom, but really I bought it for him. Glancing down the hall, I don’t see him, so I rush to the living room and rearrange the end table in the corner, add the tree, and plug it in. I’m sweating like I’ve just run a damn marathon. Nervous sweats are the worst. I don’t know how he’s going to feel about the tree, and while I don’t want to piss him off, I need him to remember the joy of the holidays. He’s done well so far.

I dash back to the kitchen and start opening the wrapping paper and tape. When Oliver walks back into the kitchen, I pretend like nothing is wrong.

“You okay? Your face is all flushed.”

“I’m just excited.” Reaching for my phone in my purse, I wave it in the air. “Can I hook up to your speaker?”

“I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I’m going to say yes anyway.” He chuckles, running his hands through his hair.

I connect to his Bluetooth speaker, and Christmas music fills the room. “Don’t worry, we’ll wrap all the gifts you bought today too.”

He grumbles something about hating Christmas and women he can’t say no to.

I consider that a win, and he hasn’t noticed the tree yet. We spend the next two hours wrapping presents. I dance around his kitchen, singing all the Christmas songs, while he smiles and shakes his head.

It’s not until “Jingle Bells” comes on that I catch him mouthing the words. “What, sir, are you doing?” I stop and place my hands on my hips. I have to bite down on my cheek to keep from smiling.

“What?” He looks down at the gift he’s wrapping. It’s the last one of his, and I just finished mine. “Am I doing it wrong or something?”

“You were singing!”

“What?” he scoffs. “I wasn’t singing.”

“You were. I saw your lips moving.”

“I was talking to myself.” He sets the finished gift on top of his pile that’s on the stool next to him.

“You were singing. I can read lips, Ollie.”

“You’re seeing things, baby. Now, this is done. Let’s go snuggle.” He scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder.

“What about the mess?”

“Fuck the mess, Blake. All day…. I’ve been waiting all day for this. The mess can wait.”

When we reach the couch, he drops me with a bounce, and I laugh. “Fine, if you wanted to snuggle, all you had to do was say so,” I reply cheekily.

“Give me that sassy mouth.” He covers my lips with his, and I bury my hands in his hair. There’s a slight stubble on his cheeks. It's something he’s been doing more often, and I love it. I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like between my thighs. I moan at the thought, and he deepens the kiss.

He lowers himself between my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him close. I’m not sure how long we stay like this. It could be minutes; it could be hours. All I know is that this is where I want to be.

“Your kisses are addicting,” he murmurs against my lips. He moves back, forcing me to release my legs as he stands and adjusts his hard cock in his pants. “Snuggles. That’s next.”

“Snuggles. Right. Wait? Is the kissing part already over? I like that part. We can combine them. I’m a great multitasker,” I assure him.

He chuckles. “Baby, we’re about more than just kisses. Snuggles.”

I look down at the jeans and sweater I’m wearing. “I’m not in snuggle clothes.”

“We can fix that. Come with me.” He offers me his hand, helps me from the couch, and leads me down the hall to his bedroom. Keeping my hand locked in his, he takes me to his dresser. With one hand, he pulls open the drawer and grabs a T-shirt before opening another and grabbing a pair of plaid pajama pants. “These have a string, and you’ll be able to tighten it.”

“This is perfect. Thank you.”

He stands there, his hand still locked around mine. He lazily lets his eyes roam over my body, starting at my head and moving to my toes. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m a big girl. I’ve been dressing myself for a while now.” I smile up at him.

He drops my hands and grips my hips. His palms slide beneath my sweater and trace up my sides. “Yeah, but this looks complicated. What if you get stuck and I’m not here to help you?”

It’s a sweater and jeans, not the least bit complicated, but the desire in his eyes has me agreeing. “You know what? You’re right.” I lift my arms over my head and watch him intently. He swallows hard, reaching for the hem of my sweater and lifting it over my head.

He drops the fabric to his bedroom floor. His eyes are locked on my breasts, covered in my black, lacy bra. I give myself a mental high-five for choosing this bra and the matching panties that he hasn’t seen yet when I was getting dressed this morning.

He’s just staring, and I’m ready to ask him if he’s okay, but he bends his head and sucks my nipple through the lace fabric while tweaking the other between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh.”

“You’re the best present I’ve ever unwrapped,” he breathes, moving his mouth to the other breast, giving it equal amounts of attention.

My hands move on their own and slide into his hair, holding him to me. “Ollie.” My voice is full of need.

“I had to, baby. I had to taste you. They were begging for me.” He kneels and works the button on my jeans. The zipper is next before he helps shimmy them over my hips. “Fuck,” he rasps, leaning in and placing a tender kiss on my lower abdomen. “Grab the pants, baby.”

“Wh-What?”

“The pants. Hand them to me. If I don’t cover you right this minute, I’m going to devour you, and that’s not what you promised me tonight.” He peers up at me, and I can see the desperation in his gaze. “Pants, Blake.”

“Right.” I nod, turn to grab the pants from where he tossed them on the bed, and hand them to him. He lifts one foot, then the other, and starts to pull up his pajama pants. He kisses my thighs with an audible groan before tugging up the pants to my waist and pulling on the drawstring.

When he stands, he’s noticeably hard in his gray sweatpants. “That might possibly be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“Stop.” I chuckle, swatting at his shoulder.

He takes my hand and places it over his hard length. “I have proof.” He winks, and I laugh.

“Give me that shirt, you flirt.”

“Only with you, baby.” He reaches around me, grabs his T-shirt, and pulls it over my head. “You're covered, but I can still see you.” He taps his temple. “It’s locked here forever.” He bends and hauls me over his shoulder and turns to walk out of the room. “Hit the light, baby,” he says, stopping by the door.

Lifting my head, I hit the light switch as he carries me back to the living room. He manages to sit on the couch and pull me into his lap at the same time. Reaching behind us, he pulls a throw blanket off the back of the couch that was never there before. He wraps it around us and hands me the remote.

“Pick something.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t be watching it.”

“What?” I turn my head to look at him.

“I’ll be watching you.”

I melt at his words, knowing they’re not just words, they’re facts. Oliver Thompson doesn’t do or say anything he doesn’t mean to say or do.

“I might pick a Christmas movie.”

“I don’t care, baby. I got what I wanted.” His arms tighten around my waist a little.

I pick a random holiday movie from his streaming service and toss the remote to the end table.

“Blake?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is there a Christmas tree in my living room?”

“Oh, I bought it for you.”

“I thought that was for your mom?”

“Well, I decided you needed it more. Really livens the place up, don’t you think?” I hold my breath, waiting for his grumpiness to appear.

“You liven the place up, Blake. Stand for a minute.”

I do as he asks, my heart sinking. I’m certain he’s going to unplug the tree and tell me to take it with me. Instead, he lies down on the couch and pats the space in front of him.

“Come on, baby. You’re missing your movie, and my arms are empty.”

I open my mouth to ask him how he feels about the tree but decide against it. He’s not going to grump, and I’m not going to complain about a Christmas movie and snuggles from him.

I can’t remember a more perfect day.