Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(61)

Yet this feels different.

Why does it feel different?

Maybe because the last time I was with him, something changed inside me. The way he spoke to me the night of the family skate night. How he apologized without blinking an eye. How he took full responsibility. And how he didn’t want to leave me that night.

And then he followed it up with breakfast in bed . . .

I don’t know. I’ve never been treated like that before and found myself loosening up around him. Like in the sauna, where I didn’t mind that he saw my ass. That I was thrilled to show it to him, and even more thrilled to think about the possibility of him getting hard over it. And then his genuine kindness toward me on the anniversary of Grandma’s passing. The almost kiss.

It’s all flipped a switch inside me. I want him. The man so far out of my league . . . my business partner. Of sorts.

What is wrong with me?

Now I’m just teasing him and myself.

Because I know I’m not going to let anything happen between us. Like I told Ross, Silas has some demons to deal with, and I don’t want to be caught in the middle of them. So instead, I’m apparently just going to flaunt myself, driving us both crazy because I’m so fucking horny it hurts.

Hence the nerves.

I’m nervous that I’ll say or do something stupid, like I don’t know, accidentally trip and fall head first into his lap. Or say something like . . . can I suck your cock as an appetizer?

Urgh, I bet he has the most delicious penis ever. Thick, but not too thick, veiny . . . pierced. If he’s not pierced, I would be so freaking shocked.

The elevator dings, and I step off and head to his door. I’m glad his apartment isn’t one of those places where the elevator opens up into the actual apartment. I like knowing there’s a barrier.

I walk up to his door, and even though I have a key, I knock. As I wait, I glance down at my outfit. I chose a pair of black leggings, thick poofy socks to wear over them, and his sweatshirt because it’s chilly out today, and it’s really comfortable.

The door unlocks and opens, and when his eyes meet mine, I feel a sense of belonging. It’s odd. Like this man completely understands me despite him not knowing everything.

His dreamy eyes scan my outfit before locking gazes with me.

“Nice sweatshirt.”

“Thanks.” I smirk. “Someone left it in my dorm, and as I like to say, finders keepers.”

“It’s quite big on you.”

“The way I like it.” Gripping the straps of my little backpack, I say, “Are you going to let me in?”

“Sure,” he says as he takes a step away from the door, and that’s when I notice he’s wearing black joggers with no socks and a heather slate-gray shirt that clings to every contour of his body. It’s a simple outfit, yet for some reason, he still looks incredibly hot, especially with his hair still wet from a recent shower, showing off his eyes.

“What is that heavenly smell?” I ask as I take my shoes off.

“Got some lasagna and garlic bread from one of my favorite places.” He shuts the door, and as he walks by, he leans in and says, “And I got some for you, too.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” I ask in a joking manner, but he just shrugs and leads me to the kitchen.

“Help yourself,” he says as he pulls the food out of the oven where he’s kept it warm.

We each serve ourselves a plate and then we sit at the dining room table—which is nice because I’m usually eating on my bed or at my desk. I like my place, but sometimes a table is a nice change.

I dig my fork into the lasagna, but before I take a big bite, I say, “Thank you for this. I’m starving. All I had was a protein bar today and an iced latte.”

He glances up from his plate with a stern look on his face. “Why? That’s not enough, Ollie.”

“I was really busy. Classes and then I put in a few hours at my internship, then came here.”

“No excuse. You need to eat more than that.”

“You worried about me, Taters?”

“I am. Can’t have you fainting at events.”

“Do you have any events coming up?”

“I have a sponsorship party on Friday, but I don’t think it’s something you have to go to. I’m sure you’d rather go out.”

“But do you need me there?” I ask.

“I don’t need you there since Pacey and Holmes will be there. I can just hang with Holmes since he won’t be bringing anyone.”

I pause, slightly confused. “Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Insecurity laces up my spine as I think about our last interaction and how I taunted him with my vibrator. Did I . . . did I scare him off? We haven’t hung out since then. And he’s checked in a few times, but if I truly think about it, he’s pulled away a touch.

“What?” he asks and shakes his head. “No, you’re good.”

“Okay, well . . . I’d like to go to the event if you want to take me. I feel like you do a lot for me, and I need to be able to be there for you in return. If you’re worried I’ll embarrass you, I can—”

“I’m not worried about that.” He picks up a piece of garlic bread and takes a bite.

I pause for a moment to study him. “I feel like you’re acting weird. Like I did something, and you’re not telling me.”