13. Oprah & Oopsies #2
Throwing my shirt to Olivia, I hit the lock and whip the door open, gesturing at my body with the sweep of my arm. “I’m fully dressed, and my dick is in my pants, right where it belongs, thank you very much.”
Cara appears both unimpressed and shocked. Emmett, on the other hand, grins from ear to ear as he pokes his head into the room. He doubles over with laughter when he spies Olivia on the bed. He’s clearly wasted.
“Oh my God,” Olivia croons, on her knees in the center of my bed, holding my shirt to her body. “Care, look! He gave me his shirt to sleep in. It’s gonna be a dress on me!”
Cara’s jaw drops, gaze moving between us. She holds her hands up. “What in the fuck is going on here?”
“I’m just gonna sleep.” Olivia ditches the shirt and lifts the blankets, sliding beneath them.
Her head disappears between the pillows until all I can see are her arms, which she holds high in the air.
“I kicked Carter Beckett out of his own bed. Somebody take a picture! I don’t think this has ever happened before! ”
It hasn’t. I do a lot of shit with Olivia I’ve never had a desire to do with anyone else.
Olivia bounces with the weight of Emmett’s body when it hits the mattress. The two of them snuggle up as he holds his phone above their heads, snapping a picture while they snicker like a couple of fools. I kinda wanna crawl in there.
Scratch that. I really wanna crawl in there. And kick my best bud the hell out.
Cara points a finger in my face, the look she hits me with as terrifying as it always is. “I’m too drunk to yell at you. If you hurt her, be prepared to eat your own dick. I’ve heard it’s huge, so it’s a good thing you have a big appetite.” Her crazed eyes move between mine. “Got it, Carter?”
Holding up two fingers, I pledge, “I solemnly swear I will not hurt Olivia Parker.”
She pats my chest and turns back to the bed where her best friend and boyfriend are still bouncing around. “It’s like I have kids sometimes.” She stalks over, dragging Emmett off the bed and kissing Olivia’s cheek. “Have fun, be safe, and don’t make any stupid decisions.”
Olivia salutes her. “Yes, Mom.”
Cara rolls her eyes but laughs, strutting by me, and Emmett shuts the door with the pump of his brows. A minute later, the front door opens and closes, leaving the house eerily quiet.
I never thought I’d be here tonight, alone with Olivia, especially not in my bed.
Her curls are a wild mess, blankets pooling around her waist. She’s like the antichrist, sitting there in bed, everything about her dark—hair, gaze, dress—a stark contrast to all of the fluffy white bedding. Nothing but terrible, filthy, downright naughty thoughts run through my mind. Antichrist .
“You made me get you pajamas and you’re gonna sleep in your dress?”
Her grin is slow, all devil, as she slips out of the bed. “I was waiting for Cara to leave so I could peel it off.”
I swallow my tongue, watching her stroll toward me with all the confidence in the world. And I get the hell out of the way.
“’Kay. I’ll, uh…” I thumb toward the door. “Give you some privacy.”
I reach for the handle, and Olivia’s hand comes down hard on the wood, slamming it shut the moment it opens.
The hair on my nape rises as she flicks the lock, and I don’t have a single clue what to do.
I’m standing here like a jackass, gaze glued to the locked door, because I cannot fucking look at this woman right now if I’m going to keep it in my pants.
I’m about two seconds away from tackling her to the bed and ripping that dress right off her.
The energy in the room is about as electrically charged as the nine inches of titanium straining behind my zipper right now.
I puff out a heavy exhale, sagging with relief at the click of the bathroom door behind me. Sinking to the edge of the bed, I stare up at the ceiling, praying for some much-needed self-restraint.
Painfully adjusting the bulge in my pants, I try to kill the mood by talking about feelings. “Uh, hey, Ollie,” I call out weakly. Shaking my head, I drag my hands down my face. “I think we should talk about, um…” Sweet Christ, this is painful.
“I like you,” I blurt out for at least the second time.
I’m talking to a door. “I was thinking…maybe we could…I could maybe…maybe you can learn to trust me, you know, give me a chance, if I show you…you can trust me…” It’s barely a whisper by the time I reach the end because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.
Silence .
And then: “Tomorrow.”
I leap to my feet. “What?”
“We can talk tomorrow. After you make me a turkey dinner for breakfast.”
Fucking yes . I look down at my main man. He’s not deflating any time soon. He’s about as excited as I am. “Hear that, big buddy?” I whisper eagerly to him. “We’re fucking gettin’ somewhere!”
“Carter?” Olivia calls. “Can you help me?”
Dashing across the room, I pause with my hand on the knob. I’m about to ask if she’s decent, but then she opens the door, takes my hand, pulls me in, and I almost die when she speaks.
“I need you to unzip me.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuck.
“Carter.” Olivia’s fingers twine with mine. “I need you to look at me if you’re going to help me.”
Oh. Right. I’m looking at my feet. I chuckle. It comes out a fuckload anxious and high-pitched, and I run my hand down my chest before I finally raise my head and twirl a finger in the air. “Turn around, gorgeous.” Confidence comes and goes, apparently.
When our eyes meet in the mirror, she smiles at me. It’s cute and a little loopy from the drinks and the sleep she probably needs. When her teeth sink into her lower lip, my grin explodes. She’s a little tease and I’m pretty sure she knows it.
I sweep her silky, loose curls off her back, laying them over her shoulder, before I trail a finger down her neck to her dress, right where her—
“Uh, Ol. There’s…there’s no zipper back here. Your dress is…” I pull on the soft, deep forest fabric, watching it stretch from her back with ease, giving me a glimpse of the flawless, creamy skin lurking beneath. “Stretchy.”
“Oh, right.” Her expression is all sweet devil when our gazes lock in the reflection. She didn’t forget about her lack of zipper. Her ruby red lips part with a beam, goofy and beautiful. “Oops.”
Oops…
Oops ?
This is also the moment I catch sight of the satin blush bra on the corner of my bathroom countertop.
Oh fuck.
Oops is fucking right.
I’m about to make a big fucking oops .