Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(80)

My eyes ping-pong between the two of them, doing my best to decipher what the hell is being spoken silently in their stares. I think I catch a subtle shake of the head on Oakley’s part before he breaks eye contact with his father, looking at me instead.

“We should probably get going soon,” he murmurs before glancing out the bay window of the dining room. “It looks like it’s started snowing, so I’d like to get back to campus before the roads are shit.”

“Language, Oakley,” his mother chides, poking her head in from the other room.

He winces beside me at her glare. “Sorry, Mom.”

“You’d better be,” she says, popping back in the kitchen. She returns a few moments later with two Tupperware containers of leftovers, handing one to each of us. “These are for the two of you. Pop them in the microwave for a couple minutes and it’ll be ready to go.” She pauses and looks at me, a hint of a sparkle in her brown eyes that reminds me an awful lot of Oakley’s. “I personally think it tastes even better reheated.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Oakley says before pulling her into a hug.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders and squeezes. “Of course, sweetie. We’ll see you after the game this weekend.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

The sight of their embrace forms a knot in my throat, and suddenly, I feel like an interloper on a private moment between them. But the feeling doesn’t last long, because when Oakley’s mom is done with him, she turns and hauls me in for an embrace of my own.

One making me feel more at home than I’ve ever felt before.

After she releases me, I give Oakley’s father a handshake goodbye and wave to Logan, the normal Midwestern pleasantries exchanged before we leave. Meanwhile, Oakley pulls his dad in for a quick hug before going over to his brother and bopping him on the head like he’s Little Bunny Foo Foo.

The entire thing is so foreign—the whole night has been, actually. But it’s also something I could see myself getting used to very easily.

“That was…” I trail off, shaking my head in awe as we walk down the snow-covered sidewalk to where Oakley’s car is parked on the road.

I don’t have words to describe it. I just know I want more of it.

Of feeling like I belong somewhere.

“Was it okay?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for Dad putting you on the spot like that, but I promise he meant well and—”

I cut him off with a bruising kiss, because there’s nothing else to say here. Nothing else to think or do other than kiss him more. Pin him against the door of his car and kiss him harder. Deeper. With as much passion and gratitude as humanly possible.

Leave him breathless, the same way he does me.

Constantly, and at every turn.





Twenty-Eight

Oakley

Two firm hands grip my waist as I attempt to unlock the front door to the townhouse, causing all the nerves in my body to stand at attention. Including the ones in charge of my dick, because paired with the way I can feel Quinn’s pressed against my ass, I’m sporting a full-fledged erection.

I have been all night, seeing as this guy is the biggest cock-tease I’ve ever met.

Ever since practice ended, I’ve been anticipating getting him home, naked, and under me more than I’m dying to hold that Frozen Four trophy at the end of the season. But he threw a massive wrench in my plans by asking to grab a late dinner instead of letting me have him as the main course. But sustenance is a good thing, and when he mentioned a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place I’d heard has the absolute best el pastor in the Chicago metro area, I was sold.

Too bad I could barely enjoy my meal with him right there in front of me, close enough to smell his musky body wash, but too far away to touch him. All I could do was stare at him across the table. Which he felt necessary to mention. More than once.

Not being one to take his shit lying down, the second we paid and were in my car, I practically hauled him into my lap for a make-out and dry-humping session. It only lasted about twenty minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore and had to drive us home, otherwise I ran the risk of fucking him in the backseat of my car.

Which is why we’re at my place rather than his like normal. Cutting ten minutes off the drive means getting inside him ten minutes sooner.

He’s dismantled ninety-five percent of my self-control. And I’m ready to devour him because of it.

If only I could get the fucking door open.

“Jesus fuck,” I curse under my breath as I fumble some more with the lock and key. “You’re making this far harder than it should be.”

“Mmm,” he hums seductively as his tongue flicks out over the junction of my jaw and throat. “But isn’t that the entire point?”

To drive his reasonings home, he reaches around to cup my already aching cock through my jeans. I’ve been rock hard since we left dinner thanks to his teasing, and the pressure in my balls is becoming a matter of life and death.

Not kidding, if I don’t come in the next twenty minutes, I might actually die.

Thankfully, I’m finally able to slide the key into the lock and gently push the door open, finding a quiet darkness in the living room of the house. As it should be, seeing as it’s almost one in the morning on a weeknight. The only one of my roommates that would even think about being awake at this hour is Theo, but thankfully he’s two floors apart from my room.