Chapter 11 Ollie
OLLIE
Fuck me. Literally. Like that’s what I want Phoebe to do to me when I walk into the bedroom to see her bent at the waist. Those panties over her plump ass cheeks can’t quite hold in all her lusciousness.
When she straightened up, startled, all I saw was my last name and my college number on her back.
She’s wearing my name, and that’s how it should be.
The primal urge to claim her is overwhelming.
Bigfoot don’t bite our mate to claim them—we carry them off deep into the forest and make them want to be ours.
We have tens of thousands of acres of the Pine Barrens right down the street.
It’s the perfect opportunity to get away.
But I won’t do that. Phoebe is going to be mine because she wants to be, and she’s going to declare that in front of our friends and family.
No hiding away. The whole world is going to know that Phoebe Albright is choosing to be Phoebe King. Now to figure out how to do it.
I hate it, but I turn around so I’m not staring at her and making this awkward.
“Sorry,” I say over my shoulder. “I didn’t realize you weren’t finished dressing.”
She’s moving around, and I’m picturing her pulling on pants.
“No worries,” she says. “I didn’t think to close the door all the way. I’m sorry.”
She has nothing in the world to apologize for.
“You can turn around, Ollie,” she says after a moment.
When I do, it’s to face her wearing my gray T-shirt, her black yoga pants, and a mischievous grin.
“I know it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she says, “when we’ve gone swimming. But I’m sorry if I embarrassed you or made things awkward.”
Awkward. That word is being overused. I need to google a thesaurus and look up some other words. Uncomfortable? Inappropriate? Problematic? All of the above?
“I’m fine.” But my voice cracks like I’m twelve years old. Clearing my throat, I try again. “It’s fine. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
Yes! I used a different word than awkward. Two points for Gryffindor.
She shrugs. “All good, I’m not shy. Do you have another sweatshirt or flannel I can borrow?”
Keep your eyes on her face, Ollie. Oh, nod! That way I can sneak a peek while nodding.
Nodding, I say, “Sure, whatever you need.”
Yep, hard nipples. Her naked breasts are touching my T-shirt. That’s almost like I’m touching her. But not nearly as good. I pull out a green plaid flannel, my favorite shirt.
“Will this work? I have a sweatshirt if you’re cold.”
“It’s perfect, thank you.” She takes it from my grasp. “Ooh, it’s so soft.” She rubs it against her cheek and closes her eyes.
“Do you want me to wrap your wrist before you put on the flannel?”
That’s when she looks at my shirt she’s clutching and blinks up at me like she’s wondering what I’m talking about. “Yeah, wrap first and then shirt. Good plan.”
She sits in the rocker, and I kneel before her. I’ve watched the video, so I know how I need to wrap her back up. On one knee, I gently take her hand.
“If you’re proposing, Ollie, it’s the other hand,” she whispers.
My hands start to tremble. I look into her hot-cocoa-brown eyes and feel the warmth flow through me like I took a sip.
“Would you say yes if I was?” I whisper in response.
The cheeky grin she gives me goes straight to my cock.
“Maybe,” she says. “You won’t know until you do.”
I gently rub my thumb across her knuckles. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see, then.”
Her gulp is audible.
Wrapping her wrist goes quickly, and I rise to my full height when I’m done.
“Do you need help with the shirt?” I ask her.
That’s when she looks at my shirt in her lap—she’s still clutching it—and blinks up at me like she’s wondering what I’m talking about. I reach out and gently extract my shirt from her grasp and hold it so she can slip her arms through the holes when she stands.
“Do you want it buttoned?” At her nod, I start at her waist and work my way up. I try not to be a creep and brush her breasts, but I have big hands, and my knuckles accidentally graze her hard nipples. We both gasp.
“Sorry,” I whisper. I quickly finish the final button and step back.
She lets out a slow exhale. “It’s okay,” she says. She ties the bottom part I left unbuttoned, and it’s so cute and girly. At this rate, she’s going to own my whole wardrobe because I love to see her in it.
I take a shower and relieve the pressure in my cock, doing my best to stifle my groan of pleasure as my release washes down the drain.
It takes the edge off, but I’m sure the relief will be short-lived.
I can’t be near Phoebe and not want her.
When I move into her place, I’m going to have to cover the water bill because there will be lots of cold showers in my future.
Walking back into the living area after my shower, I find Phoebe wiping down the table and counters.
I go to the bookcase and squat down to open the lower cabinet to see what games they have.
Phoebe comes up behind me and rests her hand on my shoulder.
All the good work done by that cold shower—gone.
I changed into gray joggers that aren’t doing me any favors in keeping my hard-on situation under control.
I grab Aggravation, set up at the game board, and choose our colors.
Phoebe is blue and I’m green. I explain the fairly straightforward rules.
Roll a one or six to get out of base, move your four marbles around the board to get home, if you land on your opponent’s marble, you send them back to their base.
“Who knew you trash-talk while playing board games?” Phoebe says with a laugh. “You’re such a goof. When you started doing the dun dun, dun dun music from Jaws and sent my blue guy back with a giant chomp, I thought I’d pee myself.”
I shrug. “There’s lots you don’t know about me yet, Phoebe.” Then I wink.
And she blushes.
Yes! I made Phoebe blush. That’s good, right?
We end up playing four rounds of Aggravation, and she wins one. I didn’t let her win. But I didn’t make her lose either.
“What do you want to do next?” I ask.
“How cold was it outside?”
“I thought it was pleasant, but I run warm. It wasn’t windy. Check the weather app.”
She grabs her phone. “Wow, it’s almost fifty out. How does it go from blizzard to pleasant in twelve hours?” She gives a chuckle while shaking her head. “New Jersey weather is so funky.”
“Do you want to go for a walk? I’ve shoveled the porch and walkway. If it’s that warm, the snow should be melting and be okay to walk in. Do you have boots?”
“Yeah, let me get them on, then I’ll be ready to go. I don’t need to look good. No one’s going to see me.”
“I think you look good, Phoebe.”
She presses an unexpected kiss to my cheek as she walks by. If I’d known it was coming, I’d have turned my head to get it on the lips. I hate wasted opportunities.
“You’re so sweet, Ollie.”
That’s awesome. But for once, I want to hear, You’re so sexy, Ollie. I want you, Ollie. I love you, Ollie.
I want to hear her say those things so badly, it’s a real physical ache in my gut.
But how hard am I willing to work for it?
I’m here to play hockey so well the Devil Birds keep me and the Sasquatch kick themselves for letting me go.
I didn’t come here with any romantic expectations.
But I’d also never flirted with her like I have today.
Flirted successfully. If there’s a chance she wants to keep me too, I’m willing to work as hard off the ice as I do on it.