Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(97)

I glance up at him and run my finger over the scruff on his jaw. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts. I was so sick to my stomach.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Okay?”

I nod and then lift on my toes, pressing a kiss to the bottom of his mouth. He cups the back of my head and angles my jaw for better access to my mouth. Before I know what’s going on, his lips are on mine, and his tongue swipes against mine. I grip his suit coat as I let him take me for a ride, his mouth doing all the work.

It’s delicious.

It’s meaningful.

Nothing about this kiss is dead.

It’s full of passion and everything I’d ever want when it comes to this man.

When he slowly pulls away, he cups my head and hugs me one more time. “Fuck, I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

“Me too.” I smooth my hands over his chest. “Will you call me when you land?”

“Yeah, babe . . . will you answer?” He lifts a brow at me, and I chuckle while nodding.

“Promise.”

“Good.” He kisses me one more time and sighs. “I have to go.”

“Okay, safe trip. Text, call, FaceTime, send me nudes . . . all of the above.”

“You do the same,” he says and offers me one more kiss before taking off. He steps away, glances over his shoulder, and smirks at me.

Be still my heart . . . he’s so freaking sexy. When he’s out of sight, the security guard comes up to me with an expectant look on his face.

I turn toward the exit and say, “See, I told you I wasn’t lying.”

“All right, move it along.”





Silas: Hey.

Ollie: Is that really going to be your opening line?

Silas: It was going to be “send me a picture.”

Ollie: Aren’t you on the plane?

Silas: Yes, but we can still text.

Ollie: Oh, I see, so what you’re trying to tell me in a not-so-subtle way is that you miss me and can’t wait until you land to communicate.

Silas: Basically.

Ollie: Well, I will have you know, I sobbed in my car when I left the airport.

Silas: Why?

Ollie: Because I’m happy and mad at myself for not talking to you yesterday. I could have spent the night with you. Instead, I spent the night in fear, my stomach twisting in knots.

Silas: If it helps, I felt the same way.

Ollie: Can I ask you something?

Silas: Ask me anything.

Ollie: In the sauna, were you mad at me?

Silas: Was I mad at you? Are you fucking kidding? Ollie, that was . . . fuck, I still think about your mouth on my cock.

Ollie: But afterward, you seemed angry. I was afraid I pushed you too hard.

Silas: I wasn’t angry, and if I was, I was probably angry with myself for giving in when I’ve been so determined to hold back.

Ollie: Are you sure?

Silas: Positive. I wanted you to stay.

Ollie: Why didn’t you stop me?

Silas: Something we can talk about later. Can I FaceTime you tonight? I really need to get some shit off my chest.

Ollie: Yes, call anytime.

Silas: Thanks.

Ollie: Can I tell you something?

Silas: Yes.

Ollie: You have the nicest cock I’ve ever seen, and I’ve watched a lot of porn.

Silas: LOL.

Ollie: Seriously, I dream about it. I want my mouth on it again.

Silas: Babe, you’re going to make me hard on the plane.

Ollie: I’m just telling you the truth. I loved every second of sucking your dick, and I want to do it again.

Silas: Christ.

Ollie: Miss you already.

Silas: Miss you.





Silas: Finally in our hotel.

Ollie: Call me whenever, just in my room.

I’ve thought about this conversation all night and what he might say, what we might talk about. I’ve even tried to figure out what I should wear, which seems so stupid because it’s a phone conversation, but I feel nervous.

I decided to opt for his sweatshirt and keep things the way he left me, but I’m cuddled into the weighted blanket he gave me, surrounded by the scent of his cologne.

My phone rings, and I quickly answer it, holding it in front of me.

His handsome face appears, and I feel everything in my body relax.

“Hey,” I say softly.

“Hey, babe,” he says as he lies on his hotel pillow.

“How was the flight?”

“Fine.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Las Vegas,” he answers.

“Ooo, are the boys headed out on the town?”

“Probably some of the guys. Most of us are tucked into our rooms.”

“Run across any women trying to claw their way into your bed?”

“There were some in the lobby, but security doesn’t let them up. You need a key card to get up to the rooms. And you realize you don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“I know,” I answer. “I just find the whole thing fascinating. Life of a professional athlete, it’s a different world.” I pause and say, “Hey, that might be a good article to write. Would you mind that? If I wrote about your general grind and commitment to play your sport?”

“No, that’s fine. We’ve had articles written about us along the same lines.”