20. Jeremiah

Chapter 20

Jeremiah

T he late afternoon sun beats down on the practice field, making the air thick and heavy. Sweat pours down my face as I run another play, muscles straining against the weight of the offensive line crashing into me. My focus should be blocking out everything except the ball sailing through the air into my waiting hands, but that's not what's happening.

We're scrimmaging but my gaze keeps veering off-field. I'm supposed to be focused on the next play, but hell, for a split second, I let myself look over at the bleachers where Oakley sits, legs crossed, and bottom lip caught between her teeth as she watches me intently. The cotton of her navy dress with cute little yellow flowers clings to her body, the soft swell of her tits visible through the delicate fabric. My cock twitches in my compression shorts at the thought of peeling that flimsy material off her, baring her perfect tits to my hungry gaze. After last night, I know that I will never see anything more deserving of the title of perfection than her.

Fuck, she's so goddamn beautiful. God, she looks like she stepped out of some old movie—soft waves of golden hair cascading around her face and bright blue eyes. Delicate and damn near angelic. Except I know better. And she's all mine, whether she fights me about that or not. There's a lot of baggage to unpack, and I'm just going to keep shoving that shit in the closet.

The shrill sound of Coach's whistle snaps me back to reality as the defense breaks formation. I shake my head, clearing the hazy lust, and get back into position for the next play. Can't let my mind wander, not when so much is on the line. I fucking hate losing, and my brothers feel the same way.

"JB! Eyes on the game!" Coach bellows, and I snap back, grunting an acknowledgment but it's fucking hard to play right now with my dick like steel.

Still, I can't resist stealing another glance at Oakley. She's fanning herself with one delicate hand, chest flushed a pretty shade of pink from the sun shining down on her. Christ, she's going to be the death of me. I adjust the hard bulge in my shorts, trying to ignore the throbbing need building between my legs.

"Fucking focus. Christ, I expect this shit from your brother, but not you!" Coach barks, and I snap my head back toward the field, jaw clenched. Fucking prick. I know he's talking about Penn, because Penn is always doing something to irritate him.

"I'd let myself be distracted by Betty Crocker over there also," quips one of the linebackers, smirking as he jogs past. My teeth grind and I step forward to go after him when Graham steps in front of me, shaking his head. I grumble to myself but choose my fucking battles right now.

The rest of practice is a blur of sweat and exertion as I force myself to focus. Every time I look Oakley's way, she's watching me with those big eyes, lips slightly parted. She knows exactly what she's doing to me, the little tease.

By the time the final whistle blows, I'm a wound-up ball of tension, every nerve ending thrumming with arousal and adrenaline. I rip off my helmet and make a beeline for the locker room, needing a cold shower before I do something stupid.

Like grab Oakley and fuck her senseless right there on the bleachers for the whole team to see.

I look over at her and mouth ‘stay put' before heading into the locker room. I already scared the equipment boy to keep her in his fucking eyesight until I'm done.

Stripping off my soaked jersey and pads, I turn on the shower and let the icy spray pound against my overheated skin. I need to get rid of this fucking hard-on, but I'm not about to do it in this full ass shower and no one has the balls to comment on my hard dick, anyway.

Except for my fucking brothers, which is why I'd like to be out of the fucking shower before they're done shooting the shit and stroll their asses in here.

Doesn't matter how many times I jerk off, it's never enough. I need Oakley like I need air to breathe. She's become my obsession, my reason for existing. Without her, I'm just an empty fucking shell.

I wash myself quickly, so I don't fucking smell like a pigpen, but I don't have time to let the water soothe me. I need to go snatch up my bunny.

After toweling off, I tug on a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt before heading out to the parking lot. Oakley is leaning against one of the pillars with the water boy not far behind, scrolling through her phone with a little furrow between her brows that makes me want to smooth it away with my thumb. She looks up as I approach, lips curving into a soft smile that has me melting from the inside out.

"Hey," she murmurs as I pull her into my arms, nuzzling my face into the sweet-smelling curve of her neck. She giggles, the sound like music to my ears. "I see you're no longer grumpy."

"I see you're done being mad at me for making you come to practice today. Missed you, baby," I mumble against her skin, inhaling the strawberry smell of her hair.

"Watching you out there," Oakley's voice breaks through my stalker ass behavior of trying to inhale her into my lungs, "it's like stepping back in time." Her eyes catch the light, shimmering with memories. "Remember when Royce and I used to watch all your games? You were unstoppable, even then."

I smirk at the memory, but something twists inside me. "Yea," My grip tightens on her hand. "Guess I've always liked putting on a show."

My hands roam over the soft fabric covering her back, dipping down to graze the swell of her perfect ass. "You look so fucking good in this dress."

She pulls back with a teasing smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh yea? You like it?"

Instead of answering, I yank her flush against me so she can feel the hard ridge of my cock digging into her belly. Her pupils blow wide, lips parting on a soft exhale as she grinds against me instinctively. Christ, she's so responsive, so perfectly attuned to me.

"Does that answer your question?" I growl, nipping at the delicate shell of her ear. A shiver races through her, and I can't resist adding, "You have no idea how much I want to rip this thing off you and put your pussy in my mouth right here in the parking lot, baby."

Her breath hitches, and she bites that plump bottom lip in a way that makes my cock throb insistently. "Jeremiah…"

The sound of my name on her lips in that breathy, wanting tone is like an electric jolt straight to my dick. Grabbing the sides of her face, I angle her head back and crash my mouth against hers in a searing, possessive kiss. She mewls softly, melting into me as our tongues tangle.

When the need for air becomes too great, I tear my lips from hers with a ragged groan. Oakley's chest is heaving, lips swollen, and eyes glazed with naked desire. Fuck, she's perfect.

"You know you're only a quick tug away from being naked for me, right?" I rasp, smoothing my thumb over the slick, kiss-swollen curve of her bottom lip. "One little piece of fabric between me and that gorgeous body of yours."

A delicate shiver wracks her frame, and she gives me a look that could set me on fire from the inside out. "Is that a promise, Mr. Blackwood?"

Christ, the way she says my last name, all innocently and yet sin-laced, has me aching. I growl deep in my chest and haul her up, her legs automatically winding around my waist as I walk us to my bike. She gasps at the sudden movement, arms looping around my neck as I grind my rigid length against her core, her soft little delicate panties hardly a fucking barrier. I could fucking spear right through them with how hard I am for her.

"You want it to be a promise, baby?" I snarl against the creamy column of her throat. "You want me to strip you down and fuck you right here until you're screaming my name? "

She whimpers, hips undulating in desperate little circles as she chases friction. "Yes, please, Jeremiah, I need-"

The shrill ringing of her phone cuts her off, and she lets out a frustrated groan as I reluctantly set her back on her feet. Fumbling in the little woven bag hanging from her shoulder, she fishes out her cell with shaking hands and frowns at the screen.

"It's Ro…Royce," she stutters out his name, and just like that, the hazy lust clouding my brain clears like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

Royce. Her brother, my former best friend, the guy who tore us apart all those years ago with his jealous, possessive bullshit. The irony of that isn't lost on me, as I now am a walking billboard of possessiveness when it comes to his sister. The memory of that night two years ago slams into me with the force of a freight train, bitter resentment and regret burning like acid in my veins.

Seeing the name on her phone screen now is like a kick to the teeth, all the old anger and bitterness rushing back in a tidal wave of emotion. I curl my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms as I struggle to contain the storm of rage swirling inside me.

Oakley answers the call with a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping, but I don't miss the excitement shining in her eyes. "Hey, big brother. What's up?"

There's a brief pause as she listens. Her brow furrows, lips turning down at the corners in that way that makes me want to pull her into my arms and chase all her troubles away.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweats and rock back on my heels, jaw working furiously. I want nothing more than to snatch the phone from her hand and ream Royce a new one, to remind him what a piece of shit brother he is .

A minute goes by.

Then another.

Until finally, she pulls the phone away from her ear and jabs at the screen with one manicured nail, effectively ending the call. For a long moment, she stares at the device clenched in her hand, chest heaving with harsh breaths. When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are over-bright with unshed tears.

"He…he uh, Rem," she whispers, voice cracking with emotion. "There was no one there. He didn't actually call me. Just a stupid fucking pocket dial. Two fucking years and then this. Why am I not worth it for the people I love to stick around?"

The anguish in her tone, the naked vulnerability shining from those beautiful blue eyes, has the anger draining out of me in an instant. I step forward and gather her trembling body into my arms, cradling her against my chest. She melts into my embrace with a soft, broken sound, burying her face in the hollow of my throat.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," I murmur, pressing a lingering kiss to her silky hair. "I know, I know."

We stand like that for long moments, her slim form shaking with quiet sobs as I rub soothing circles over her back. The urge to hunt down her asshole brother and bash his face in wars with the need to comfort Oakley, to shield her from any more pain and heartache.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbles again when her tears have subsided. Pulling back, she swipes at her damp cheeks with one hand, offering me a watery smile. "God, you must think I'm such a mess."

"Never," I growl fiercely, cupping her delicate jaw and brushing away the last lingering tear tracks with the pad of my thumb. "Don't ever think that, okay? You're the strongest, bravest person I know, Oakley. Look at what life has thrown you and you're still here, still standing, still giving me a fucking run for my money."

A muscle ticks in her jaw, and she gives a jerky little nod, pressing her face into my palm like she's drawing strength from my touch. "I just…I hate that I was ready to cave. To forgive him as if he didn't abandon me. He's my big brother and the one person above all else I should be able to count on. To have in my corner, to protect me from the monsters under the bed and in real life. But all he did just now was make me feel like a desperate, helpless little girl."

White-hot rage lances through me at her words. The thought of that idiot making Oakley feel anything less than cherished and adored makes me want to put my fist through a wall. She deserves so much better, so much more than his shitty, manipulative behavior. I gripe about my own brothers, but none of them would ever disappear and leave me when I needed them. She definitely deserves better than me and the sinister life breathing down my neck.

"Listen to me," I say roughly, tilting her chin up so she meets my stare. "You're not helpless anymore, you hear me? You're a grown woman, beautiful and strong and so fucking incredible."

She just nods but doesn't say anything and I swear to fuck when I see Royce Ashford again, I'm knocking his ass out.

Oakley's breath hitches, a sound so fragile it fractures the air between us. Suddenly, she steps back, her hand slipping from my grip as if it burns her.

"Take me home, Jeremiah," she says, voice laced with an edge I can't decipher. It's not the soft plea from moments ago; it's resolute, like she's severing a lifeline .

"Oakley?" The confusion claws at my gut, a dull ache spreading through my chest.

"Please, just get me out of here," she insists, and there's a tremor in that one word, a shiver down her spine that doesn't escape my notice. I read the conflict in her eyes, blue storms raging in depths I'm suddenly barred from entering.

"Alright, let's go," I agree, though every muscle in my body screams in protest. I slip on our helmets, but it's like she's oceans away.

The ride back to the house is silent, tense, and now I'm mad and annoyed at this entire situation. She doesn't even wait for me to get off first and help her off. She's already trying to undo the helmet herself, but her fingers are trembling too much. I unlatch it for her, and she gives me a small smile before heading toward the front door.

"Look, I can't help if you don't let me," I admit to her retreating back. "One minute you're all in, the next you're sprinting for the hills and putting behind a damn brick wall."

She winces. Good.

But just when I thought she'd turn around and fucking talk to me, she surprises us both by straightening her spine and walking away from me and right through the front door.

Oh no, baby bunny. You got me fucked up.