18. Jeremiah

Chapter 18

Jeremiah

I burst through the locker room doors, my heart pounding like a goddamn sledgehammer against my ribs. The air is heavy with the sweat and musk of post-practice exertion, but it's Oakley's safety that's got my blood boiling, not the workout. A goddamn stalker. Some sick fuck getting his kicks out of terrorizing her—is all I can think about as I storm across campus.

Fuck that. I'm gonna find the sick bastard and make them pay.

How much bad luck follows my girl? She needs a fucking break.

I push through the throng of students, the usual campus chatter becoming background noise. My boots pound against the cobblestones. I need to see her, need to know she's okay.

I shove open the heavy wooden doors to the library, the scent of old books and lemon oil polish slamming into me. It's too fucking quiet in here, just the shuffling of papers and clacking of keyboards.

I spot a flash of golden hair between the stacks. I move quickly toward the front desk, my soles thudding against the worn carpet. I round the corner and there she is, looking small and frightened as she clutches her bag.

"Oakley," I call out, my voice battling between relief and urgency.

She jumps, startled, her bright blue eyes blinking up at me. Her lips part, ready with a greeting.

"You came." She whispers.

"You called."

Her eyes get teary, and I take two large strides until I'm right in front of her and sweep her up into a hug. I can feel the tremors in her body as relief, confusion, fear, and adrenaline all battle for space.

"Grab your shit. You're done here for the day," I interrupt, my tone brooking no argument. Oakley's eyebrows knit together, a silent question forming on her face. I don't give her the chance to voice it. "Someone else can cover this desk."

She frowns, a mixture of confusion and defiance flashing in her eyes. "But I have to?—"

"Like hell you do," I cut her off, grabbing her hand. It's small and warm in mine, and I grip it tighter than I probably should. "I already said someone else can cover your shift."

I turn her head toward me. "You okay, bunny?"

She shakes her head, blonde waves tumbling over her shoulders. "N-no. But it was just some pictures and a note. Jeremiah, how did they—. Everything is okay."

"Does it look like everything's okay?" I snap back, sarcasm dripping from every syllable as I glance around the too-quiet library. It's not her fault, but my nerves are frayed, and there's no room for pleasantries. She's trying to act like she's okay, and I think that's more for my benefit than hers, but she's not thinking clearly.

"Jeremiah…can't you just go all Blackwood and take care of it?" Her voice trails off, a mixture of hurt and confusion painting her features.

"Look, Oak, I'm not trying to scare you, but until I can handle this, then you should be scared. Scared means you'll be alert. There's a bastard out there who's messing with what's mine." The words come out harder than I intend, possessive and raw. Her eyes widen at my statement.

"Yours?" she breathes out, the single word laced with layers of meaning we both feel but never say.

"Damn right." I reach out, grabbing her bag and sliding it over her shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

Oakley opens her mouth like she wants to protest, but I shoot her a look. I'm not budging on this. Her safety is the only thing that fucking matters. After a beat, she nods, clutching her bag tighter.

We walk out of the library and all I can focus on is Oakley's small hand in mine and the need to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere secure. Somewhere that I control.

Oakley stumbles slightly, drawing my attention. "Rem, slow down. Your legs are longer than mine," she protests, a little breathless.

"Sorry, baby. I just need to get you out of here." I try to temper my pace for her sake, but the sense of urgency is screaming at me. I should just fucking pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. It's so fucking tempting.

"Do you think this has to do with Lincoln?" Oakley's question cuts through the tense air, sharp and loaded with worry.

"Maybe. Just…let's get inside first." I don't want to think about Lincoln's shitstorm right now, but how fucking coincidental is it that someone's destroying his whatever the hell he 's calling Iris' room and now I got some sick fuck toying with sweet Oakley.

The Blackwood house looms ahead, its silhouette dark and foreboding just like daddy dearest likes it. I practically drag Oakley up the steps, her small hand clutched tightly in mind, the door swinging open before us like the gaping maw of some beast.

"Jeremiah, Jesus—" Oakley stumbles over the threshold.

"Meeting. Now," I bark out the command the moment we're inside, where the rest of the brothers are already a brooding presence in the living room and the sound of their voices assaults us.

"What the fuck is going on?" Lincoln's baritone rings out, all traces of his usual cockiness replaced by an undercurrent of tension.

I shoot him a look, my jaw clenched. "Ask your girl. Seems someone's got a hard-on for fucking with her and it's bleeding over into my life."

Iris' eyes go wide at my words, but Lincoln just scowls, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and pulling her against his side. "What did you do this time, angel?"

She scoffs and shoves him off, but I can see the fear flickering behind her eyes. "I didn't do shit, asshole."

"Both of you, shut up if you aren't going to fuck and give me a show," Penn cuts in, his deep voice slicing through their bickering. He turns to me, eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

I take a breath, reining in my anger enough to explain. "Some sick fuck has been sending Oakley pictures and notes at work. Stalker shit."

Graham's head whips around, his expression thunderous. "What? Who? When?"

"Today at the library," Oakley pipes up, her voice small. " Just…pictures of me and some other things. And a note that said?—"

"Don't repeat that shit," I growl, pulling her closer against my side. I can feel her trembling slightly and it ratchets my rage up another notch. "It doesn't fucking matter what it said. All that matters is finding out who the hell is doing this."

"You think it's the same person messing with the incest twins over there?" Penn's gaze is sharp, assessing.

I shrug one shoulder, my grip on Oakley tightening. "Maybe. Could just be some sick coincidence, but you know how I feel about those."

Lincoln snorts, rolling his eyes. "Because our lives are just filled with those, right? It's gotta be connected somehow."

"Well, we're gonna find out. I'll play Lt. Benson," Penn holds up the envelope, the pictures still inside. "I'm taking these to Ramsey, see if he can pull any prints or trace where they came from while I bang Stabler."

"Good idea," I grunt, not even bothering to comment on his weird SVU kink. I turn to Oakley, my voice softening despite the fire still raging in my veins. "You okay heading upstairs for a bit, baby? I'll be up in a few."

She bites her lip, her blue eyes shimmering with a mixture of fear and gratitude. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

I lean down and press a hard kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger against her soft skin. "I've got you, bunny. You're safe with me."

She nods, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips before she turns and heads for the stairs. I watch her go, my chest constricting with a confusing swirl of emotions. Protectiveness, for sure—the need to keep her safe is practically burning me alive from the inside out. But there's something else, too. Something deeper, more primal, that makes me want to pull her back and never let her out of my sight again.

I slam the photos down on the coffee table, a mosaic of obsession sprawling out under the lamplight. My brothers lean in, their faces etched with concern as darkness plays over their features.

"Look at this shit," I say, my voice a low growl.

Graham's fist clenches, the knuckles bone-white. Lincoln looks like he's ready to tear something apart, and hell, so am I. But it's Penn who moves first, snatching the pictures and rifling through them with eyes sharp as razors.

"This one," he mutters, his finger jabbing at a shot of Oakley in the library, oblivious and alone. "Taken from outside, through the window. That's brazen."

"Too close for comfort," I spit out, watching his analytical gaze devour each image.

"Angles are consistent," Penn continues, flipping to the next. "Our guy likes to keep his distance but not lose sight. He's methodical."

"Methodical and fucked up," I add, feeling the coiled spring of tension winding tighter in my chest. I glance at Oakley in one of the photos. Her face pale, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Got a preference for close-ups," Penn notes, a picture of Oakley laughing caught mid-motion, a moment of joy turned sinister. "Likes her expressions, the details. Intimate."

I shake my head, forcing the thought away, and turn back to my brothers. "Okay, we need a plan to handle this shit."

"Well, no shit," Lincoln scoffs. "I'm ready to take this into our own hands. Fucking tired of sitting around playing grab ass while someone fucks with Iris. Only person fucking with her is gonna be me. "

His words are laced with the same bitterness he's been harboring for days now.

"We're not doing shit until we know what we're dealing with," Penn says, ever the voice of reason. "Once Ramsey takes a look at those pictures and does his geek squad mass spectrometer type shit, we'll have a better idea of who might be behind this."

I nod, forcing myself to breathe through the rage still simmering inside me. "He's right. For now, we play it cool. But if this is the same fucker who's been messing with Iris…"

My hands curl into fists at my sides and I have to stop myself from putting one through the nearest wall. The thought of some sick pervert going after my girl, my Oakley, makes me see red.

Lincoln must sense my shift because suddenly he's in my face, his expression hard. "Easy there. If it is, then I'll be handling it since he fucked with my property first. "

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but Graham beats me to it.

"Don't be a dick, Linc," he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. "We all know how you are, but if it's the same guy, then you two can handle it together. Team effort, yay."

Lincoln's jaw tics, but he doesn't argue. He knows Graham's right—if the situations were reversed, he'd be ten times as volatile as I am right now.

"Okay, well," Penn says, his tone indicating he's about to say something to piss me off. "We're all on the same team here just like a gang bang. Let's just take a beat, get our dicks hard and let Rams do his thing, and start round two when we've got more intel. For now…" He looks at me, something utterly chaotic flickering in his eyes. "Go be with yo ur girl upstairs and make sure she's good. I'll go do what I do best and that's frolic in the dark, obviously."

I give him a curt nod, grateful for his understanding despite the situation. My brother is crazy, damn near certifiable if Dad would have gotten him tested, but there's nothing he won't do for me or the others. He'd carve out his own heart for one of us, damn near has and there's no one I trust more to have my back than him.

I turn and head for the stairs, taking them two at a time. My heart is pounding in my ears, drumming so loudly with fear and fury that it's quickly becoming overwhelming. I need my calm.

By the time I reach my room, I can barely breathe. I shove the door open, my eyes instantly finding Oakley perched on the edge of my bed. She looks so small, so fragile, huddled in on herself like she's trying to disappear.

The sight of her like that, her bright spirit dimmed by fear and uncertainty, is like a physical blow to my gut. Before I can stop myself, I'm crossing the room in three long strides and dropping to my knees in front of her.

"Hey," I murmur, reaching up to cup her face in my hands. Her skin is soft and warm against my calloused palms, and I drink in the sensation like a man dying of thirst. "Hey, look at me."

Slowly, she raises her eyes to meet mine, and my breath catches in my throat. Those baby blues are brimming with unshed tears, the anxiety and confusion swirling in their depths like a storm on the horizon.

"It's gonna be okay," I tell her, forcing as much conviction into my voice as I can muster. "I've got you, Oak. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me?"

She nods, her lower lip trembling, and I feel something inside me break. Seeing her like this, so scared and vulnerable…it's killing me. All I want is to wrap her up in my arms and shield her from the world, keep her safe and happy and smiling that radiant smile that never fails to make light shine in my fucked-up life.

Without thinking, I slide my hands into her hair, cradling the back of her head as I pull her toward me. Our foreheads meet with a soft thunk, and I close my eyes, breathing her in.

"Rem…" she whispers, her breath fanning across my face. I can hear the question in that single syllable, the fear and uncertainty she's trying so hard to mask.

"Shh." I press my lips to her forehead, letting them linger for a long moment. "I said I got you, baby. You're safe with me."

She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, something between a whimper and a sigh, and it resonates straight down to my soul. I pull back just enough to look into her eyes again, holding her gaze with everything I have.

"You know that, right?" I rasp, the words tearing themselves from my throat. "You know I'd never let anything happen to you. Not now, not ever."

Her eyes widen, shimmering with hope and disbelief. "Jeremiah…"

"I mean it, Oakley." I'm barely aware of the words tumbling from my lips, operating on pure instinct now. "You're everything to me. Fuck, I…" I trail off, swallowing hard against the lump rising in my throat. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you again. I fucked up once and I won't be fucking making that mistake again."

She's staring at me now, her eyes wide and luminous, and for a long moment the only sound is our ragged breathing. Then, slowly, she lifts a hand to my cheek, her touch soft and trembling.

"You mean that?" she whispers. "Jeremiah, I…I need to know you mean that."

The rawness in her voice, the naked vulnerability, is like a knife to the sternum. Without hesitation, I turn my head and press a searing kiss to her palm, holding her gaze the whole time.

"I've never meant anything more in my life," I growl against her skin. "You're mine, Oakley. Have been since the day we met, even if I was too fucking stupid to see it."

A soft gasp escapes her lips and her fingers flex against my cheek. I can see the longing in her eyes, the desperate need for reassurance after so long spent apart. Well, I'm about to give her that and then some.

I frame her face with both hands and crush my mouth to hers. She whimpers into the kiss, her hands fisting in the front of my shirt as I pour every ounce of pent-up emotion into the scorching slide of our lips.

These last few days have been a fantasy come to life for me. I've imagined her more times than I can count over the years, late at night with my hand wrapped around my aching cock. I've fantasized about the way her lips would taste, the little sounds she might make as I mapped every inch of that sweet mouth with my tongue. But reality is so much better than any dream, any forbidden fantasy. Reality is hot and slick and all-consuming, setting me on fire from the inside out.

Oakley kisses me back with a fierceness that steals my breath. Her nails scoring lines of delicious heat down my chest. I groan into her mouth; the sound vibrating between us and lift her up. She opens for me instantly, her thighs parting to cradle my hips as I wrap her legs around my waist .

The hard length of my cock is trapped between our bodies, the heavy ridge straining against the thin cotton of my sweats. I know she can feel me, hard and aching, because she gasps and arches up into me. Her damn dress offering no protection from me. The friction is pure sin, a burst of white-hot pleasure that has me seeing stars.

"Fuck, baby," I pant against her lips. "You feel so good."

"Rem…" She whimpers my name like a prayer, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair. "Please…"

The naked need in her voice resonates straight through me and I growl, low and feral. I've waited too damn long for this, longer than I even realized. But now that I've had a taste, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get enough.

I trail hot, openmouthed kisses along the line of her jaw, down the slender column of her throat, trying to rein myself in, but like a junkie I just need a hit. I need the feel of her, the taste, to be embedded in me. She tilts her head back, baring that sweet, sensitive skin to my questing lips, and I take full advantage. I lave my tongue over her thundering pulse, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that will show the whole damn world she's mine.

"You're mine," I rasp against the delicate shell of her ear. "My girl, my Oakley. You hear me?"

She nods frantically, her fingers tightening in my hair. "Yes…yes, Rem, I'm yours. Always yours."