Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(108)

I press a kiss to his chest. It’s not just the sex. I mean, the man can fuck like there’s no tomorrow. But not only that, he makes me feel cherished. As if there is nothing better to him than the enjoyment I experience. That makes me feel . . . treasured. I love it. “You’re what I deserve.”





Chapter Twenty-Two





SILAS





I was with Sarah for over a decade, and never once did I feel what I feel about Ollie.

I think I loved Sarah. I’m not going to take that away from our history, but I don’t think I loved her the way I thought I did. Our love grew apart over time.

With Ollie, there’s this obsession. An obsession to make her happy, to make her feel fulfilled. An obsession to be near her, to hold her, to possess her.

An obsession to never let go of her, and knowing I have another away trip coming up, I actually feel sick that I have to leave her.

She curls closer into my side, warm, naked, needy.

She hasn’t let go of me all night, and I haven’t let go of her. She makes me feel desired, and Sarah never made me feel that way. I always felt like I was chasing her. Chasing her to give me attention or any piece of her. But now that I think about it, she was always looking for something else, someone else. We never would have lasted. And now I’m so fucking glad I found that out when I did.

Ollie shifts, and her hand draws down my stomach.

Hell . . .

She finds my morning erection and lightly runs her fingers over it.

“Morning,” I say, my pelvis shifting upward unintentionally.

“Mmm . . . morning,” she says right before she travels her mouth down my body, right to my cock.

“Baby,” I groan as I make room for her body.

She swirls her tongue around the tip, and I place my hands behind my head and watch her delicious mouth drive me fucking nuts.

We spend the next half hour using our mouths, hands, and bodies to bring each other pleasure to the point that we’re both sweating, tangled between each other, and completely spent.

“Ollie,” I say, out of breath. “Baby, you have to stop telling me to fill you up with my cum.”

“Why?” she asks with a laugh. “That’s what I want.”

“I know, but it makes me wild.”

“That’s how I like you. Wild. Out of control.”

“You’re going to break me.”

She twists into me and asks, “Are you telling me I have to take it easy on my geriatric boyfriend?”

My brow rises as I turn toward her, causing her to laugh. “I’m not fucking geriatric.”

“Could have fooled me with all the cracking your bones do.”

“That’s just part of being an athlete.”

“A geriatric athlete.”

“Oliana!”

She laughs and straddles me. “Are your feelings getting hurt?” She traces her hands over my pecs.

“Yes.”

“Aw, my poor baby.” She kisses my lips and then hops off, leaving me cold and wanting more.

“Come back here.”

She slips my shirt over her body and buttons the middle button. “I need some breakfast. You’ve fucked me hungry.”

“And you’re calling me the geriatric one.” I slip my hands behind my head and say, “I could go all day, baby.”

“Says the man who was breathing heavily last night and had to take a break between rounds.”

I sit up on my elbows. “I’m the one doing the fucking pumping. Excuse me if I don’t want to cramp up.”

She laughs some more and then goes to her mini fridge, where she pulls out two yogurts.

She tosses one at me and then pulls out spoons. I scoot back to the headboard and sit up while she sits right on top of me, just the way I like it.

I pull off the lid of my yogurt and do the same for her. She hands me a spoon, and together, we eat breakfast.

“Did you turn in your article?” I ask.

“I did yesterday. I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“It was a good article, babe,” I say. “I don’t see how he won’t like it.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate your help on it. Before I turned it in, I made a few changes, but I feel like it’ll give me the credit I need, and then after that, I just have to breeze through the rest of the internship until the end of the year.”

“Your grade doesn’t depend on the rest of the year?” I ask.

“No, the extension of the internship is just experience. That’s why the extension was so good because it’s paid and great for the résumé.”

“What do you plan on doing after you graduate?” I ask.

“Hopefully find a job that suits what I’m working toward . . . not sports.”

I chuckle. “But now your boyfriend is a professional hockey player, giving you the inside look. You could be very valuable to someone looking for a sportswriter.”

“Oh yeah, very valuable. I couldn’t even tell you a single rule about hockey, let alone write about it.”

“So what happens if you get a job that’s not in Vancouver?” I ask, wanting to gauge where she’s at.

“Are you worried I might not be at your beck and call for your post-game adrenaline?”