Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(54)



My groin tightens from the sight, and I inwardly curse for saying something about the sauna. This will be anything but relaxing.

“This is amazing,” she says as her chest lifts and her back arches while her leg bends so her foot is flat against the bench.

Fuck.

Me.

“Uh, are you sure you don’t mind me being here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” She rolls her head to the side and glances at me. The corner of her lips turns up. “You know, Sarah is really dumb. I don’t know what happened between you two, but for her to not want that”—she motions her finger up and down my body—“she’s an idiot.” Given I found Sarah with a woman between her thighs, it’s not my physique that Sarah walked away from. And I gave Ollie a pretty fair indication of how well I unintentionally disregard people’s feelings.

I sit down on the bench. “She didn’t want a lot of things when it came to me.”

Ollie presses her hand to the towel to keep it close to her body as she rolls partially onto her stomach to look at me. From her turn and use of one towel, her ass comes into full view. And fuck is it so goddamn nice.

My mouth waters.

My body itches to get closer.

And even though I tell my eyes to focus on her face, they betray me and take in her perfect backside.

“I don’t understand that. How could she not want you? I’ve never been hornier in my life than this past week, thanks to being around you.”

I lift a brow in question, and she just shrugs.

“I’m not going to lie about it,” she continues. “I’m also not looking for you to relieve that by admitting this. I can handle that on my own. But seriously, I’m sure women all over Vancouver are lining up to jump into bed with you. What was her problem?”

“I guess she just wanted more,” I answer, remembering what I walked in on. “Something different.”

“Well, I’m sorry she treated you like shit.” She flips so she’s fully on her stomach now, and she kicks her legs up to the sky while her arms barely conceal her tits. If she were mine, I’d lift her pelvis and fuck her from behind. I’d spank her ass, loving how it would light up with my handprint. And I’d tug on her hair, showing her exactly who was in control.

Me.

Not that sassy mouth of hers.

Not her strong will.

But me.

“So why aren’t you dating, then?” Ollie asks. “Why do you think this fake dating partnership is better?”

“I’ve never dated someone during the season, someone new at least. When I was with Sarah, she knew exactly what to expect with the demands of my job. But I think it would be too hard with someone new, especially with the season starting in a few weeks. Maybe if I met someone right after the end of a season, I could prepare her, but right before?” I shake my head. “It’s too much for a new relationship.”

“Is it really that taxing?”

I nod. “Long hours, late nights, sometimes gone for over a week, depending on the schedule. It’s constant. And it can seem exciting maybe at first, but I know it takes a tough partner to be able to handle it all.”

“Did Sarah handle it okay?”

“She did,” I answer. “There were things I wish she would have done differently when I was on the road. She didn’t like to talk that much on the phone. I tried phone sex a few times, and she wasn’t into it. Wasn’t into anything when it came to the phone, and some nights, fuck was it lonely.”

“You never cheated on her?”

“Never,” I say, making eye contact with Ollie. “When I’m with a woman, I’m hers and only hers.”

“That’s hot,” Ollie says. “You always hear these stories about athletes cheating on their partners. I’ve never really been drawn to athletes for that specific reason. I never want to be cheated on. I can’t imagine that kind of pain.”

“It’s not fun,” I say before I can stop myself.

Fuck.

I glance at her, and her eyes widen. She sits a little taller, almost to the point that I can see her nipples. “Silas . . . did Sarah cheat on you?”

I glance away and rub my hand down my face. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. And I know she wants to ask a million questions. I can feel them orbiting her, needing to get them out. And then she says, “For what it’s worth, she’s an absolute fool.”

My eyes land on her again, and she lifts up an inch, but it’s just enough for her breasts to almost be exposed. Her teeth roll over her bottom lip as her hand travels down her neck, like a bead of sweat rolling over her skin.

“You’re sexy, Silas.” Hand clutching her towel, she lifts up to sit on the bench. The towel twists but covers her in all the right places. “You have the kind of body I could worship.” She wets her lips as she stands now, the towel a mere loin cloth for her breasts and pussy. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of the bedroom.” She comes closer. “I’d make it my mission to have my mouth on every last inch of your skin.”

I don’t know what she’s doing or her end goal, but it’s turning me on to the point that I rest my hands on my lap to hide my excitement.

Meghan Quinn's Books