Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
O akley had no intention of spilling his guts. One question led to another and he was telling her about his family. Outside of Kristof, he never talked about his time in rehab. He was ashamed of giving into the grief in such a deep way, ashamed that it had almost ruined his life. But with Clementine, he wanted her to know everything about him. There was still so much to talk about and unwrap, but given that they were slowly building trust and getting to know each other, he was taking it easy.
The best part? Instead of pity, he saw understanding and sympathy. Despite her scowling, he already knew that she was an empath. She held so much compassion in her eyes and he’d been lucky enough to witness it in the few hours they’d spent together.
If the universe didn’t want him to fall in love with her, it needed to try a little harder to make her uninteresting.
When she slid off her stool and stepped between his spread thighs, her fingers moving through his hair, Oakley relaxed. He let his hands settle on the crinkled waistband of her shorts, because her damn T-shirt was so tiny. Really, this woman was hell bent on destroying him.
He’d never been this hungry for someone before.
Clearing his throat, he shook all thoughts of naked Clementine out of his mind. “What about your family?”
“Still in Iowa. My parents are first generation Indian-American and I’ve got two brothers,” she told him, her wide hips still between his spread legs. “Met my best friend Mack when I was about four? He lived across the street with his parents and I stole his football, because I wanted to play and he wouldn’t let me. Been best friends since.”
“Is Mack here too?”
She nodded, her fingers still weaving through his hair. He could fall asleep like that. “Moved here a few years ago, with his kid. Surprised you haven’t run into each other considering they come by the bakery quite often.”
“Maybe next time I’ll spend more time there, just to meet them.”
She snorted and attempted to move away, but he spread his hands around her hips to hold her steady. She narrowed her eyes and dropped her fingers to wrap around his wrists. “We need to finish eating and clean up.”
“We will. Stay with me for a minute.”
Sighing heavily, like it was an imposition, she released her grip and crossed her arms over her chest instead. He smiled at how hard she was working to not look at him. He could watch her forever, so if she wanted to pretend like he wasn’t there, that was fine by him too.
“Why do you kiss me like that?” she asked, voice quiet and almost shy. It was so unlike the Clementine he’d been interacting with so far.
“Like what?”
“Like you might regret it if you don’t.”
Oakley smiled, because that was how he kissed her. Then again, if she knew how desperately he’d waited for the chance to kiss her, she wouldn’t be surprised. When he shook his head, his glasses slid down his nose. Before he could push them up, she was adjusting them. They stared at each other for a long moment and he felt a shudder run through her.
“That is how I feel,” he finally said, voice gruffer than expected. “Is it too much?”
“No. I’ve never been kissed like that before.”
“I like kissing you and your mouth is so inviting that sometimes I get carried away. Sometimes it feels like I need to take my shot when I can. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I like it.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded, the tips of her fingers tap-dancing across his mouth, her own lips parting at the action. He watched her in fascination, the perfect shape of her pink lips and her beautiful, bottomless brown eyes. How did he, a random dude from California, get a chance with this woman?
“Do it again?”
“Do what, Clem?”
Her eyes lifted to his as she said, “Kiss me, please.”
He hesitated for a brief moment and he could see the panic in her eyes. Before she could move away, he cupped her jaw and brought her back to him. Her gaze softened and dropped to his mouth as a hand stroked the side of his face. Oakley closed the space between them and pressed his lips to hers, sighing at how soft she was against him. As her other hand also wound through his hair, he nudged her lips apart and sank into her. She let out a moan and he took that as a sign to keep going. The kiss deepened as their tongues brushed and danced. Her grip on his hair tightened and he pulled Clementine closer, arm sliding around her waist.
“Fuck,” she muttered, pulling away from the kiss. Her forehead pressed against his as she said, “You’re addictive.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying about you.”
She laughed softly, the sound hitting him in the chest. He knew that every smile and laugh he pulled out of her was a win, so he was going to keep trying to do that. Tilting his head slightly, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth as he dragged one finger along the skin exposed between her clothes. She wriggled against him and when he moved his finger again, she squealed softly.
“Are you ticklish, Clem?”
“No!”
“Aw, baby, you are,” he teased and then swallowed back a laugh at the glare she shot him. “Which part of that sentence offended you?”
“ Baby . So fucking juvenile.”
“I fucking love when you swear. What can I call you?”
“Clem.”
“I already call you that.”
“Nothing but Clem.”
He shook his head. “Gimme another one, Clem.”
“I hate nicknames.”
“ Clem is a nickname.”
Rolling her eyes, she poked him in the chest. “I hate cutesy nicknames.”
“Okay, so I’ll find something better.”
“Oak.”
“Something just for me,” he added in a low whisper and felt her body twitch slightly.
“Fine.” She stepped out of his arms and started gathering their breakfast things, like they hadn’t had a moment. He would let her have it. He was starting to understand Clementine a little better. While she was happy to be vulnerable in front of him, make out and touch him like that, she also needed her space and time to process everything. He’d never been with someone who wasn’t a social animal or a people person, but he was starting to learn the way she functioned. It didn’t take away from how much he liked her though. If anything, it endeared him to her even more.
“Stop staring at my ass and help,” she chided. He looked at her ass, groaning softly at the way the thin material of her shorts barely hugged her bottom.
Picking up their cups and the coffee implements, he brought it over to the sink. While she rinsed everything, he loaded up the dishwasher. Working side-by-side with her was another thing he hadn’t expected, but he liked how domestic it felt. How normal it was. I could totally get used to this .
All of a sudden, he was hit in the face with foam. His eyes widened and he turned to find her staring at him with her lips pressed together, hiding a smile.
“Oops?”
“I bet,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he adjusted his glasses and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Before she could move, he wrapped an arm around her waist as he grabbed the adjustable faucet and angled it at her face. He turned the tap on and the water sprayed them both, making Clementine yelp. She tried to break free from his grasp, but he ducked behind her as the water continued to attack her face, making her yell. Once the water was turned off, she spun in his arms and glared, hands braced on her hips. He snorted at her drowned rat look through his droplet-covered glasses.
“You’re an asshole,” she grumbled, but Oakley could see the corner of her lips twitch.
“And you’re fucking sensational.”
She couldn’t hide the smile this time, even though she dipped her head. He saw the blush creep up her neck and instead of letting her go, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into him. It took her a few minutes, but she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Something tells me you don’t do shit like that enough.”
“Never had someone to do shit like that with,” she admitted softly.
“What about at the bakery?”
“That’s sacred ground. Besides, I’m not the only neurotic one in that kitchen.”
He chuckled softly. “Happy to be the one you do that with every time.”
She made a huffing sound, then pinched him in the side. He released her and watched as she untied her hair, letting it fall past her shoulders. But then his eyes drifted down to the front of her T-shirt that was now hugging her chest. He got his first glimpse at her nipples, because she wasn’t wearing a bra. His cock stiffened, but he didn’t look away. A few hours ago, he’d had one in the palm of his hand, her nipple between his fingers. Now, he had a pretty good look at them and he wanted it in his mouth.
“You’re such a man.”
He shrugged, still staring at her chest. “I think anybody with eyes would stare at your breasts if they were on display.”
“And for that, you’re on clean up duty.” She walked out of the kitchen and he pouted.
He smiled to himself as he opened cupboards until he found her mop and cleaned up his mess. He wiped the countertops down as well, making sure everything was put away before he headed to the bedroom. As much as he liked wearing Clementine’s clothes, he was also soaked and it wasn’t as attractive as she made it seem.
“Clem,” he said, knocking on the door and pushing it open, “do you have a spare sh—” the words died on his lips when he found her standing in the middle of the room in her underwear. “ Jesus .”
“I don’t have a spare Jesus, but there should be more shirts in the drawer,” she said, flicking a hand at the other side of the room.
He nodded dumbly, unable to take his eyes off her. There were curves, then there was Clementine’s body. The dress from the night before had flaunted everything, but seeing every dip and curve made his mouth water. With her back to him, he could see the soft folds above her hips and the ones under her bra. He could see the dimples in her lower back, where he so desperately wanted to put his hand and also kiss her. The back of her supple thighs were riddled with stretch marks, but they tapered into strong legs. When she turned slightly, he focused on the soft pouch of her stomach that hung over the waistband of her underwear. And then up to the pink lace holding up the breasts he wanted to taste. Moving his eyes further up, he found her watching him curiously.
“You…are…exceptional,” he told her.
In true Clementine fashion, she rolled her eyes, but a small smile teased at her lips. “T-shirt.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t wear one. I like this look.”
This time, she snorted out a laugh and pulled on leggings. “Now that you’ve seen mine, do I get to see yours?”
“Yes, chef,” he mumbled and ripped off the wet T-shirt, dropping it to the floor.
She stared at him slack-jawed and he blushed. He used to work out back home, but since he got to Wildes, the most he did was running when the chaos in his head got loud. He’d also been eating more sugar than usual, so he wasn’t as defined. By the look on her face, Clementine still appreciated the view.
“Wow,” she mumbled, stepping towards him. “I think you should skip the shirt too.”
He pressed his lips together as her eyes did a full sweep of his torso and Oakley was glad she wasn’t looking lower; his dick had a life of its own. He didn’t take his eyes off her face, enjoying being admired for the first time in a long time.
“What’s this?”
She pointed at the tattoo on the right side of his chest. Growing up, one of the things he and his father bonded over was The Lord of the Rings . They even created their own language—because Elvish seemed so much harder to learn or master—to communicate so nobody else in the house knew what they were talking about. While he wasn’t a big reader anymore, Oakley sometimes pulled up the audiobooks for the series and let it play in the background while he sketched. Despite the intensity of the books, it was a comfort for him.
Her finger traced the characters slowly as he said, “It says: There’s no point in living if you can’t feel alive . It’s written in Elvish, from the wonderful mind of Tolkien. Got it right after my last stint in rehab.”
He’d spent months researching and making sure that it was accurate. He’d even spoken to a Tolkien expert to make sure that it made sense. Oakley knew better than to get the wrong thing inked into his skin.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, palm pressed against his skin. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
His breath caught and he put his hand over hers. Their eyes connected briefly and she smiled before handing him a purple T-shirt.
“Want to bake with me?”
“Always.”
Something had happened between changing clothes and baking, and he wasn’t just talking about the half-naked moment in her bedroom. Clementine was strangely quiet. She didn’t meet his eyes, just moved around the kitchen gathering ingredients and dishes like he wasn’t there. He didn’t make a sound, listening intently as she took him through her donut making process. Oakley wanted them to go back to touching and kissing. With her hair gathered on top of her head, her neck was uncovered and he wanted to lick a line up her throat. Instead, he did what she asked him to do.
Once the pans were filled with donuts and put into the oven, he took his shot. He caged her in at the counter where he’d done the same thing the night before. This time, she didn’t look afraid. She stared at his chest, her hands resting at his waist.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, loving the way it sounded to call her that.
“Nothing,” she breathed out.
“Clem.”
“I’ve got donuts to make and a kitchen to clean.”
“Clementine,” he said, voice gruff and worried. “Look at me.”
When she lifted those gorgeous brown eyes to his, he saw something unidentifiable reflected back at him. His hand brushed back the few stray strands of hair hanging in her face and she leaned into his touch. Her eyes fluttered shut and he sighed softly, kissing her forehead.
“What did I say?”
She sighed, shuffling on her feet before speaking. “You’ve been through so much. Losing your family, rehab…I know it’s not about me, but it’s a lot to wrap my head around.”
Oakley closed his eyes, forehead pressed against hers. If she only knew that there was more to his trauma than that. Would she still want anything to do with him after all of that?
“I’m sorry for dumping all of that on you.”
Shaking her head, she squeezed his side. “I appreciate you telling me.”
“It’s in the past, okay?”
“But you’re okay, right?”
“I’m okay, baby. I promise. I’ve been sober for eight years.”
“If that changes, you’ll tell me. Right?”
If you’re still in my life. “Absolutely,” he said with a firm nod. Even though rehashing all of it was difficult, he was glad she knew that much about him.
With a gentle tap to his stomach, she narrowed her eyes and hissed, “No more baby .”
He snorted as the oven buzzed and stepped aside to let her go. She pulled the pans out one at a time and set them on the counter. Her face lit up with a brand new smile and he rubbed his chest with one hand. I’m going to make her and that smile mine forever.
Setting the mitts aside, she asked, “What flavor are we making?”
“Vanilla,” he said with zero hesitation.
“That’s boring. Pick another one.”
He shook his head, moving closer to her. “Nope. That’s what I want.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what you taste like.”
Her breath hitched and he watched her swallow hard, the long line of her throat bobbing with the action. A look he couldn’t describe flashed over her face as she said, “You haven’t tasted all of me .”
“ Yet ,” he added with a playful grin. “But I’m a patient man.”