Chapter 16 Oliver
OLIVER
Fucking hell.
I woke up with Sloane’s body completely surrounding me.
Her hair was in my face, the sweet scent of her shampoo and perfume an intoxicating combination.
Her thigh was over my legs, like she’d tried climbing on me in the middle of the night.
She was warm, so damn warm and soft, and I took note of all my limbs. My feet were good, but my hands…
One hand was on my side, the other, up her shirt, almost cupping her breast. Shit.
I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink. My fingers were splayed under her ribcage, one knuckle grazing the soft curve of her breast. I hadn’t meant to do it. I didn’t even remember shifting in the night. But here she was—wrapped around me like she belonged there.
Her breath was hot on my throat. Her palm rested on my chest, like it had been there the whole time. Her tank had ridden up enough to make me ache.
I could’ve died happy right there. Truly.
But then she shifted. A small sigh left her mouth, and she burrowed closer, her knee nudging between my thighs like she was chasing heat.
Her body moved against mine, and I swore under my breath.
My dick was already hard—had probably been for the last hour—but now it pulsed like it had a mind of its own.
Her body moved again—slow, soft, innocent in the way dreams were before they turned dangerous.
She didn’t know what she was doing. Couldn’t.
Not when she was still half-asleep, breath warm and even against my collarbone.
My skin was on fire with how much I wanted this woman.
The fact I slept next to her like this and didn’t combust was a feat I was proud of.
She was so damn sexy and smart, and god, I was into her.
She doesn’t want you like that. My brain yelled at me, but I told him to shut the fuck up. I was enjoying this moment with her body all over mine, of her seeking my comfort. She moaned in her sleep, snuggling even closer, and her thigh rubbed against my very hard cock.
I clenched my jaw and tried to breathe through the attraction. I could move. I should move off the bed and take a very cold shower. But she was pressed so tight against me—her thigh slipping higher, her hand twitching enough that her fingers grazed the edge of my waistband.
And then she sighed again. This low, needy sound in the back of her throat that destroyed my self-restraint.
I swallowed hard and shifted slightly—just my hips, enough to ease the pressure—and that’s when her body stilled. Her breath changed. Not deep and even now but sharper. Lighter. Awake.
Shit.
Her fingers tightened where they rested on my stomach. And then, so slowly I thought I imagined it, she arched her back slightly. Pressed into me. Her chest brushed my hand. Her breath hitched.
My hand didn’t move.
“Sloane,” I said, voice raw.
She tilted her chin up, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine.
It was a look I’d never forget. Sleep-soft and full of something so goddamn vulnerable it made my throat burn. Her lips were parted, pink and swollen from the pillow. It was a look forever burned in my memory. She stared at me like she wasn’t sure this was real.
I didn’t move.
Her tongue wet her bottom lip as she placed her hand over mine—the one on her chest—and brought it around her breast. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop a pathetic whine because holy shit.
“Fuck, Sloane,” I whispered, teasing her pebbled nipple with my fingers, feeling the heavy weight of her breast. She was perfect. More than perfect. Divine.
She rocked her hips against me as she swallowed hard, her pulse racing at the base of her neck. I was pretty sure my entire body was on literal fire. Every time she shifted her position, my cock throbbed.
She rocked against me again, and my breath stalled in my chest. Her body fit so perfectly over mine it didn’t feel real. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to remember every sound she made, every shift of her hips, every beat of her heart.
“Sloane,” I said again, in warning. I was gonna lose control if she didn’t stop.
She dragged her hand up my chest, fingers pressing into the muscle as her eyes locked on mine, wide and dark and full of something I’d never seen before. Heat. Trust. Lust.
I moved slowly, cupping her face with my hand and brushing my thumb across her flushed cheek. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull back. She leaned in.
That was all I needed.
I kissed her—slow, full, deliberate. She kissed me like she meant it. Like it wasn’t a mistake. Like she’d been waiting for this as long as I had. Her mouth was soft, hot, and open, and I swore my whole body broke apart under her.
Her moan sent heat straight down my spine. My hand stayed on her breast, gentle now, and her fingers curled in my shirt, holding me there. Her lips moved against mine with a desperation I felt in my gut.
I tilted my head and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss until her entire body pressed into mine. She didn’t hesitate. Her lips parted, and the second my tongue touched hers, she made a sound that nearly undid me. Her hands fisted the front of my shirt, pulling me in like she needed more.
She kissed like she didn’t care about pace or control. Like she didn’t care what this meant. Just that it was me and it was now.
My palm slid up her ribcage again, over the curve of her breast. She pushed into my touch this time, her breath catching against my mouth. Her thigh shifted higher over mine, dragging heat through every inch of me. I groaned—louder than I meant to—but she didn’t stop. She kissed me harder.
Her mouth was hot and demanding, messy in the best fucking way. Her nails scraped against my shoulder, her lips slick and open, chasing me every time I tried to slow down. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t pull away. I didn’t want to.
When I dragged my hand down her side again, she gasped, and I kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the edge of her throat.
She tipped her head back like she needed more space, more contact, and I took all of it.
My mouth opened over the place where her pulse raced.
I sucked her skin, needing to taste more of her, needing all of it. “Fuck, your skin…”
“Oliver,” she begged, rocking her hips up as I stared down at her. Her brown eyes were filled with heat and want, and she had never been sexier.
“What do you want, honey ?” I licked my lips—tasting her on them—and bent down to kiss her softly this time. I nipped her bottom lip, careful not to put all my weight on her. “What do you need? Let me give you what you want.”
“I don’t… know.” She swallowed hard, her breath coming out in pants as I licked her neck and to her collarbone.
“Does my tongue feel good on you?”
Please say yes. Please. I’ll die if you don’t.
“So good.” She mewed and dug her fingers into my hair. “I’m so hot right now. I need… more.”
“Mm, I like hearing you like this, voice all husky and sexy for me.” I lifted my neck up to grin at her, and her eyes were almost black with need. A bolt of lust hit me so hard I couldn’t think. “You tell me when you stop, okay?”
She nodded as I moved down her body, kissing over the fabric of her shirt as I sucked the fabric and her nipple in one movement. She arched her back off the bed, gasping my name as I grazed her nipple with my teeth. “Oliver, oh my god. It’s been so long…”
“Yeah?” I grinned, loving the fact I got to see her like this.
I gripped her hips, my large hands almost covering her entire waist as I slid the thin fabric up higher and higher.
“God, look at you,” I whispered, kissing her stomach and dragging my tongue up and up until I closed my mouth around her dark pink nipple.
I cupped her breasts, pushing them together as I nipped and kissed and sucked her until she was thrashing on her bed. “So fucking pretty like this.”
“I’m so turned on I can’t think straight.” She grabbed my face and slammed her mouth against mine, rolling us over so she was on top of me. It was so hot and unexpected I lost my breath for a second.
“Take control, Sloane, you’re in charge.” I gripped her hips so hard I was sure I hurt her, but she dug her nails into my chest as she sucked my tongue. “Mm, honey, you’re killing me right now.”
She still wore all her clothes, which was a problem I wanted to rectify, but as I reached for the hem of her shirt, her phone went off.
She stilled, her chest heaving and her pupils blown out with lust, but that lust faded fast as she stared at her device right next to us on the table. “It’s Mac.”
Her hand trembled as she grabbed the phone. One look at the screen, and everything about her changed.
She froze—completely. Her body stilled over mine. Her pupils shrank. Her jaw tightened.
“Sloane,” I said gently, sitting up, brushing my fingers down her arm. “It’s okay. Answer it.”
She didn’t meet my eyes when she nodded. She slid off me carefully, tugging the hem of her shirt down and pulling the sheet around her like armor. The phone lit up again. She answered it with a clipped, “Hello?”
I sat up against the headboard, chest still rising too fast from everything we’d shared—everything I thought we were finally crossing into.
My pulse pounded in my ears, but hers, I could hear in the silence.
Rapid. Tense. She hadn’t moved from where she stood, clutching her phone like it was holding her together.
One arm wrapped across her chest. The other pressed the phone to her ear. Her eyes stared ahead, unfocused.
“Yes, sir. I understand.” Her voice was abrupt. Controlled. Her jaw flexed as she paused. “When was he found?” She winced at whatever answer she got. “Okay. No, I’ll come in.”
The call ended. She set the phone down like it weighed more than she could carry. Her fingers lingered at the edge of the dresser for a beat and then her shoulders fell.
“Sloane,” I said, slowly. “What happened?”
She didn’t answer. Not right away. She turned her back to me. Bent down, grabbed the hoodie from last night off the chair. She pulled it over her head in a quick motion. Her posture stiffened with every movement, like each layer of clothing added back a piece of the wall she’d let fall.
She finally spoke, voice flat but tight. “Hayes was found in a hotel on the outskirts of town. Police were called in for a disturbance. When they got there, he’d trashed the place. There was alcohol, broken furniture. They found a bat.” She paused, then added, “Splintered.”
A cold spike hit the center of my chest. “Jesus. Did he hurt anyone?”
“They say he didn’t use it, only that he was spiraling. But they’re not sure what state he was really in. Mac wants me to come in—review everything for legal. HR’s prepping league protocol.”
I stood slowly, unsure what to do with my hands. She hadn’t looked at me once. Not since the call. Not since she pulled the hoodie on. Her face was blank again. Every trace of what we’d shared, erased.
“Sloane—”
She grabbed her hair tie from the table and twisted it quickly, knotting her hair into a clean, tight bun. The same kind she wore to every meeting. No sign of the woman who’d curled into me last night. No sign of the heat in her eyes. Just control. Polished. Untouchable.
I hated this version of her, the clinical one. I understood why she had to be that way, but she didn’t need to be that way with me.
“Thank you,” she said, and that hurt more than anything else. “For staying. For being here.”
I stepped toward her, heart thudding in my chest like I’d taken a hit. Her "thank you" wasn’t just polite—it sounded like a closing chapter. Like distance. Like a goodbye. “Don’t do that,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not,” she said quickly, already tugging her sleeve down and reaching for the bag by the door.
“You are,” I snapped, stepping closer, heat flooding my chest. “Why? Why the hell would you pull away after what we—after everything we shared last night?”
She turned, finally, her shoulders stiff but her eyes locked on mine.
Her expression was unreadable. Cool. Professional.
Her tone clipped and controlled. “Because I don’t get to be that person, Oliver.
I don’t get to wake up in bed with someone I’m not supposed to be with.
I don’t get to lose control. I can’t lose—”
I stared at her, my throat tight. “That’s not what happened. You didn’t lose control. You let me in. There’s a difference. That’s allowed.”
She shook her head once, sharp and rehearsed, like she was trying to scrub the truth of what we were from her own mind.
“I need to be the version of me they trust. The one who’s always composed.
Always objective. I can’t walk into a legal debrief looking like someone who—” Her voice faltered for a second.
“—fooled around with a player. I could get fired for this.”
Her voice was even, yet I could still taste her moan in my mouth. My hand still ached from holding her. The whiplash was brutal.
“Is that what this was?” I asked, stepping in until no space remained between us. “Fooling around? No, don’t do that to us. That’s unfair and a lie, and you damn well know it. You let me in and let me be there for you. Don’t minimize that.”
Her eyes flickered. Just the smallest shift, like she heard me—but the armor was already back in place. She gripped her keys tighter.
“I have to go,” she said softly. “I need to finalize the report.”
“That’s it?” My jaw clenched. I wasn’t trying to make this harder, but god, this complication already was. “Is that the move? Pretend none of this happened?”
“No.” She looked at me again, voice quieter now, more fragile beneath the steel. “I’m going to remember it. Every second. And then I’m going to do what I’ve always done—get up, be the professional, and make sure no one questions why I have this job.”
“You think I don’t understand pressure?” I asked. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to live under expectations?”
“I think if anyone finds out what happened last night, I lose everything,” she said, and that finally broke something in her voice. A crack. “I’m not risking that. Not even for you.”
That gutted me. She didn’t mean it like that, I knew she didn’t. But her words landed anyway. She grabbed her clothes and escaped into the bathroom without looking back. “I’m sorry, Oliver. Please lock up when you leave.”
I stood there, damn well knowing that she was trying to say goodbye to me. I knew I had to be at the stadium soon and I’d see her, but fuck, I refused to let her pretend last night didn’t happen.