Chapter 22 Oliver
OLIVER
“Five more minutes.” A sleepy, feminine voice had me stirring.
I was so warm and comfortable and relaxed.
That last one was big. I never woke up feeling like this—ready and loose.
My mind was usually a mess of spaghetti on game day.
Yet, this was so fucking different. My face pressed against Sloane’s neck, her lingering citrus perfume blending with sweat and soap in an intoxicating scent.
I inhaled, tightening my grip on her waist and yanking her against me.
“Good morning,” I whispered, my voice all raspy.
She sighed and rolled onto her side, and I spooned her, running my hand up and down her naked and cozy body. She relaxed against me despite the fact my cock was already hard. I mean, how could I not be? I woke up next to her, and she was a bombshell.
God, last night was incredible.
“You sleep okay?” I kissed her neck, smoothing her messy hair out of the way.
“Mm hmm.” She brought the blankets up and snuggled deeper. “Don’t want to get up.”
“Are you always this sleepy in the morning?” I grinned. I loved learning this shit about her.
She mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow, then turned her head enough that her lips brushed my bicep. “When I’m all warm and comfortable like this, then yes.”
God. That hit something in my chest I wasn’t ready for. I held her a little tighter and slid my hand down the curve of her back and over her hip, just once. Not to start anything, but to feel her. Because I could. Because she was here, and she wasn’t pulling away.
“I’ll wake you up gently,” I murmured. “Ten out of ten bedside manner. You’ll barely notice.”
Her sleepy laugh was the kind of sound I’d replay in my head during every hotel night for the rest of the season. She turned her face to mine, eyes still closed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re perfect.” I kissed her temple. “We’ve got an hour until check-ins. Think you can be vertical by then?”
“Barely,” she groaned, but she sat up anyway. The blanket fell around her waist, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. Her body was perfection, and one night would never be enough. I ran a hand over my jaw, heat prickling my skin as I studied her.
The curve of her spine, the dimples above her ass, her perky tits with pebbled nipples. The muscles of her thighs and the few freckles over her body. “Let me see you tonight, after we get back.”
She turned, holding a towel against her chest with an arched brow. “What was that now?”
“I want to see you again.” I stood from the bed, loving how agile, loose, and relaxed I felt.
I knew my body, every fucking sign from it, and I was practically humming.
“I need to see you again, like this. Open, perfect, beautiful, reactive.” I took her hand and interlaced our fingers. “Please come to my place tonight.”
She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening as she stared at our hands. “Oliver—”
“Think about it,” I blurted out, kissing the inside of her wrist. “Don’t think of all the reasons you should say no. Think of all the reasons you should say yes, because there are quite a few of them.” I held her gaze, watching her brown eyes swirl with uncertainty.
It wasn’t regret, that was clear. Thank god, because I wasn’t sure I’d recover if she regretted me. But worry was there, and I had to reassure her. “If you need time, then I can be patient, but I really don’t wanna fucking wait.”
Her lips quirked. “Yeah, you and patience don’t go well.”
“Is that a performance joke, Sloane?” I removed the towel from her hands, pressing our naked chests together and running a finger down her neck. “How dare you? This sassy mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”
She laughed, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed me right on the lips. It was quick and soft, but she made the move, and I felt like I could fly. “Go get ready for the game, Oliver. You need to be at the top of your game. Their defense is better than the last two opponents.”
“I’ve never felt better, honey.” I kissed her again and stared at the curve of her lips, her red cheeks, her long lashes and smooth skin. “Have you to thank for that.”
“Leave,” she said, teasing me as she pushed me. “I need to shower, and I don’t have time for distractions.”
“Beg to differ, but I’ll respect your choice.”
I slid on my boxers, shorts, and the shirt I wore last night as she watched me with a curious, soft expression.
I wanted to ask what was going on in her brain but knew better.
She was joking with me, she kissed me, and those actions were huge.
“I’ll see you in a bit, honey. Try not to stare at my ass. ”
“You are… the worst.” Yet, she smiled as I snuck out the door, and that felt like a touchdown all on its own.
The elevator ride down from the team floor was quiet.
Most of the guys wore headphones, faces blank, laser-focused in that pregame way.
My body still buzzed from how the morning started—warm skin, tangled legs, her voice against my throat.
But my brain knew better. I needed to reset.
Lock in. I showered and got ready within minutes and used the extra time to do yoga, breathe, and stretch.
The breakfast spread was already set when we got to the private dining room. Scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, oatmeal, bananas, protein bars, electrolytes—every option calculated. I grabbed a plate and moved through the line like I had a hundred times before, but nothing felt routine about it.
Jordan elbowed me as he passed with a protein shake. “Never came back last night, buddy. Got an extra spring to your step.”
“Shut up,” I said, super mature and eloquent of me.
He grinned and wiggled his brows. “Hey, you look sharp and rested. I’ll take that any day.”
“Yeah,” Quinn joined us, a protein bar hanging out of his mouth. “I need my running back to be light on his feet and not sore in the wrong places. You good, Romeo?”
“I’m feeling better than ever,” I said, shimmying a little because it was damn true. My pulse: normal. No headache, no pains. No nervous energy in my veins that told me I wasn’t healthy. Last night helped me settle down, and now I was addicted to that feeling, to her.
I scanned the room, spotting Sloane near the coffee station. Her hair was still damp from a shower, pulled into a low ponytail, and she wore a fitted quarter-zip with the Rampage logo and black joggers. Her badge was clipped to the waistband as usual, and her tablet rested against her chest.
She laughed at something Noah said. Probably something dumb and sweet. She always softened around him, and despite the fact he was one of the kindest dudes on the team, I hated how she never had to hide her joy around him.
I didn’t approach her, worried she’d overreact or say to hell with me.
She didn’t look my way at all, and I told myself that was fine.
I sat two tables over with Jordan and Ty and forced myself to eat.
Three eggs. Half a banana. Electrolyte water.
I chewed through everything with my eyes on the floor.
Mac walked through, nodding once at me before heading for the med check corner, where Ivy and William had set up. The two rolling cases and travel scanners were already plugged in. Ivy held a clipboard, waving players over one at a time for vitals.
“James,” she called. “You’re up.”
I wiped my mouth, tossed my napkin, and followed her to the corner. Ivy gave me a once-over. “Sleep okay?”
“Better than usual,” I said, and it was the truth.
She clipped the pulse ox on my finger. “Heart rate’s low. That’s good.”
She moved through the rest of the steps—blood pressure, hydration, O2 sat. Everything came back clean. “BP’s 124 over 78. No dizziness?”
“Nope.”
She hummed like she didn’t quite believe me, then flipped to the next chart. “Weight’s down a pound. Eat another banana.”
I stepped away as Sloane moved past me toward the back of the room. She didn’t stop. Didn’t even glance up. But when her shoulder brushed mine, I felt it in my ribs like a shock.
She sat beside William and started reviewing tablets with a straight face. Her voice stayed low. Calm. Focused. But she smiled when Quinn made a joke, and my chest clenched tighter than it should’ve.
We boarded the buses at 10:30. Everyone loaded by position group. I sat near the back again, headphones on, hoodie up. Sloane boarded last with Ivy and Mac. She moved down the aisle, counting heads.
She skipped right past me.
Didn’t touch me. Didn’t pause. Professional.
Which was what we agreed on. What I said I’d respect. But damn, her ignoring me stung anyway.
The engine started. The bus rolled forward. I exhaled and pulled my hood lower. We had three hours to kickoff. Then my phone pinged.
Sloane: hi, I’m sorry I didn’t look at you. I couldn’t look at you without blushing!
My mood changed in a second.
Oliver: why’s that? Thinking about my mouth on you?
Sloane: among other things. Do you know how much makeup I have on my neck right now?
Oliver: can’t say I do or care. Wish I could see those hickeys on you from here.
Sloane: I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you. I’m almost TOO aware of you now. I can smell you back here.
Damn. My stomach did a cute little swoop. Doc was horrible at flirty texts and that charmed me.
Oliver: Are you trying to flirt with me? You SMELL me???
Sloane: Oh god. I’m so sorry. I meant you smell good. Really good. I love your cologne. I didn’t mean you smell. Ugh.
I craned my neck over the seat and glanced at her, grinning as her blush covered her face. She met my eyes and widened hers as she shook her head.
Sloane: Don’t look at me laughing like that!
Oliver: You’re bad at flirting, and its cute.
Sloane: I really am. I don’t … do this.
Oliver: Well, I’m glad you’re doing this with me. I can smell you too ; )
Sloane: ha ha so funny.
Sloane: hey, even if I don’t look it, I’m really cheering for you today, okay?
Oliver: thanks, Doc.