Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(52)

“That’s easy,” I say with a wink. “That would be mine.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” I say.

“Sure, okay, Silas, you have a huge dong. Now who is the second?”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because every guy thinks they have the biggest penis.”

“That’s not true. I don’t think I have the biggest penis. I just think it’s the biggest I’ve seen in person. Online, well that’s a different story. Those men are horses.”

She snorts and covers her nose with the back of her wrist. “Oh my God, I was not expecting you to say that.”

“It’s true.”

“I know we’ve talked about this before, but how much porn do you watch?”

“Probably not as much as the average guy. I don’t like the fakeness of it. I prefer to just jack off to images in my head.”

“Images of who?” She pauses and then asks, “Sarah?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “I can’t. She fucked me over, and there is no way I’m going back to that, even if she’s gorgeous.”

Ollie nods. “So then, like who?”

“I don’t know, like women I see or celebrities I think are hot. Sometimes I’ll just find an image that turns me on.”

“Ever think about me?” she asks in a joking tone.

“Keep wearing those goddamn shirts, and I will.”

She glances down at her shirt, then back up at me. “This is one of my longer ones.”

“Well fuck, I’d hate to see what the shorter one looks like.”

“Hate? Really?” she asks.

“Nah, I’d fucking love it. You have hot tits.”

“Aw.” She presses her hand to her chest. “That’s so sweet. I think you have hot tits too.”

“Can you not call them that?”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she says. “But your pecs are huge.” She pokes one with the hand holding her coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as ripped as you. Makes me want to just run my hands all over your body.”

“Have at it,” I say.

“Oh, nice try, sir. But I’m not going to be subject to one of your jacking-off memories.”

I chuckle. “If you run your hands over me, it wouldn’t be a memory. It would be a right here, right now kind of moment.”

“But that will never happen because we’re not a whorehouse, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” I finish my sandwich.

“So did you like your roommate back in college?”

“Full-circling this conversation?” I ask her.

“Well, you never got to really talk about your glory days.”

“Those weren’t my glory days,” I say. “Farthest thing from it, actually. I hated my coach. He was the biggest ass in the world and made college a living hell.”

“Why did you go there?” she asks. “I’m assuming you had multiple choices.”

“It was a great program with great facilities. The coach who recruited me was fired right before I arrived. So it was out of my hands. I suffered through college. And my roommate wasn’t any better because he wasn’t a student athlete, so he didn’t understand my rigorous schedule.”

“Really?” Ollie asks. “That’s weird that they’d stick you with a regular student. My university even has student athlete assigned dorms.”

“The other guys on my team roomed with student athletes. Not me.”

“So I’m going to assume you two didn’t get along?”

“Not so much,” I answer. “There were a few times when he was pretty chill, but for the most part, he was a dick. At one point, he was smoking pot in our room, and I had to pin him against the wall and threaten his life. I could have been kicked out of school.”

“Ooo, did you ever punch him?”

“I wanted to,” I say. “But never did.”

She sips her coffee and then says in wonderment, “I truly want to know if we would be friends if we were the same age. Like if you actually went to my university, would we run into each other and be friends?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Why not?” she asks, offended.

“I’d never be friends with you. I’d try to fuck you. But friends, not so much.”

“Oh.” She smirks. “If we’re off the record here, had you tried to fuck me when you were in college, I would have let it happen.”

“You would have been disappointed.” I chuckle. “Took me a second to figure everything out.”

“Probably wouldn’t be worse than anything I’ve experienced so far.” She sighs. “Why can’t men just understand the concept of the female orgasm?”

“When they’re young, they’re blind from their own spiraling need for release. The smart ones realize if they want more sex, they have to get good at it.”

“And that’s what you did?” she asks.

“I did.” I wink.

“Huh, well, I guess we’ll never know.”