Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(75)

“Do you plan on touching me?”

“I considered holding you,” he says softly.

“I think I can make an exception for that,” I say as I turn away from him and snuggle into my pillow. He doesn’t shift against me right away, he doesn’t move at all. So from over my shoulder, I say, “The offer expires.”

That gets him moving.

With his large, beefy arm, he drags me into his chest where he buries his head into my hair. I marvel at the way he feels wrapped around me. Warm, safe . . . I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this, like nothing could happen to me when he’s near me. And that’s terrifying because I know this is just the beginning. I can easily see myself falling for this man, fast and hard.





Chapter Fifteen





SILAS





The sun glitters in through Ollie’s white curtains, stirring me awake.

I’ve paid thousands of dollars to have a comfortable bed I can sleep in at night and for some stupid-ass reason, when I sleep in Ollie’s bed, it feels like the best sleep I’ve ever had. In the back of my mind, I know why, but the front of my mind doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

It’s too fucking scary.

My brain, my heart, they’re not ready for the truth.

“Good morning,” I hear Ollie say from over by her desk.

I peep open my eyes to find her sitting cross-legged in her desk chair with a to-go cup of coffee in hand . . . still wearing my button-up shirt. When I saw her in it last night, I had this overwhelming sense to walk up to her and say, “Mine.” To let everyone around us know that she belongs to no one but me. And even though it’s the only shirt I have here, I’ll walk out of this dorm without a shirt on before I remove it from her body. That shirt was meant for her.

“Morning,” I say as I sit up in bed and rub my eye with my palm. “What time is it?”

“Eight fifteen. Want some coffee? Ross dropped it off.”

“Sure,” I say.

She walks over to me and takes a seat on the edge of the bed and hands me her coffee.

“Isn’t this yours?” I ask.

“I don’t mind sharing, and it’s not like your lips haven’t touched mine before.”

“True.” I lean against her headboard, take a sip, and instantly regret it. Fuck, I forgot she likes the sweet stuff. “Jesus,” I say, pulling the cup away and handing it back to her.

She chuckles. “Don’t be a black coffee snob.”

“Ollie, that’s not coffee. That’s milk and sugar.”

“It is not. There’s coffee in here. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t feel so awake right now.”

“It’s all in your head.”

She pushes at my chest. “Look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“I actually slept great,” I say, glancing up at her fresh morning face. She is so fucking beautiful, it hurts. And seeing her like this—in my shirt, no makeup, fresh from bed—makes me want to pull her down on the mattress and claim her.

“So did I.” She smirks. “You kept me warm.”

“Do you get cold often?”

“There’s a draft from the windows. Especially now that the weather is getting colder, I tend to wear more clothes when I sleep, which I hate. I prefer to wear practically nothing.”

“How did you sleep in my shirt?”

“Perfect,” she answers. “If you weren’t here, I would have removed my thong, but I thought I should keep it on out of respect.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” I say, wishing she slept without it so she was fully naked under my shirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

She hops off the bed and says, “What are you up to today?”

“Meeting up with Holmes to go over plays and get ready for the season. Our first game is in a week and a half. I want to make sure we’re game ready. We also study our opponents and their weak spots. Although they could have worked on them over the off-season, it’s always good to be prepared.”

“I guess I had no idea you study film.”

“All fucking season,” I say as I move the covers off the bed. I reach for my pants and shuffle them over my legs.

“Is that why you don’t have a lot of time to do anything?” she asks.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

She glances down at my shirt, then back up at me. “Oh, do you need this?”

“Keep it,” I say. “It looks good on you.”

Her cheeks blush, and she smirks over her coffee cup. “You know, Silas, some people might consider that flirting.”

“Consider it a compliment,” I say as I reach behind her and grab my jacket. I shake it out, then slip it over my shoulders, only to button it up in the middle. My chest is easily visible, but it’s not a far walk to my car.

A playful smile on her lips, Ollie scans me up and down and says, “Very Timothée Chalamet of you, Silas. Although, nothing screams walk of shame more than what you’re wearing right now.”

“Too bad I didn’t get any action to make it a true walk of shame.”

“That was by your doing.”