Right Man, Right Time

A door clicks shut in the distance, stirring me partially awake. I open my blurry eyes and catch Ollie walking out of her bathroom.

Her hair is drawn up into a bun on the top of her head, and she’s now wearing a baggy pair of sweats and a crop top with no bra. She looks incredibly comfortable and sexy at the same time.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she says as she stops midway into her room.

“Barely,” I mumble. “What time is it?”

“Ten,” she says.

“Shit.” I rub my forehead. “I’m sorry.” I swing my legs over the end of the bed, and I stand, feeling so fucking sore that I groan.

“You okay?” she asks as she entwines her hands together.

“Fucking sore.” I hobble over to her bathroom, where I shut the door and take a piss. When I’m washing my hands, I glance up at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror and the frown on my face. The frown that appeared the moment I saw Sarah.

I thought I was prepared to see her. But I was so fucking wrong.

The moment my eyes found her, this dreadful feeling sucked all the air from my lungs, and I froze.

I can barely remember anything that she said other than that whatever she was saying was fake.

It was all fake.

She didn’t mean to come work at the Agitators? Bull-fucking-shit.

And the fact that she dyed her hair blonde, how I loved it, and wore the bodysuit I fucking loved on her? It was all premeditated to fuck with my head.

That’s exactly what happened too. She fucked with my head to the point that I kept looking back at her to see if she was really that fucking evil. And she was.

Evil . . . but also fucking pretty.

And I hate that I even thought that.

I hate that I felt a little something when she hugged me.

I hate that her smile thawed a part of my heart.

I hated everything about the goddamn interaction.

But most importantly, when Pacey pulled me to the side and told me to get my shit together, I hated that he pointed out that I was ignoring Ollie.

And he was right. I was. Because I didn’t know how to act around her. I’m not good at making an ex jealous and flaunting a new girlfriend—even though she’s fake. I felt like Sarah was watching my every move.

I push my hand through my hair, knowing I need to talk with Ollie. She deserved to be treated better.

My mouth feels dry, so I wet my finger with toothpaste. I quickly wipe down my teeth, then swish around her mouthwash for thirty seconds before spitting it out. That feels fucking better.

I exit her bathroom and head back into the main space, where I find her sitting cross-legged on her bed.

When she glances up at me, I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m fucking sorry, Ollie.”

She looks away and says, “It’s fine. No need to apologize.”

Yeah, she’s upset. From her downcast eyes to the slump of her shoulders, it’s plain as day. I fucked up . . . again.

I close the distance between us and hop up on her bed. I hook my finger under her chin and lift so her eyes meet mine. “It’s not fine. I was an ass, and I’m sorry.”

She tries to look away, but I don’t let her. That’s when I notice her eyes welling up with tears.

Shit.

“Fuck,” she mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m getting emotional. This is stupid.”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid.”

“That’s the thing, Silas. I shouldn’t have feelings about this. It’s just . . . ughh,” she groans. “I felt embarrassed, okay?” She swipes at her eyes. “And I’ve been wrestling with this emotion ever since you saw Sarah. I realize that this is all just a job to us, going to these events, but it felt embarrassing when you completely forgot about me. It’s more of a vanity thing on my end, but it mattered, and it just felt like . . .” She pauses, gathering her words. “It felt like being with Yonny all over again. Like everyone else in the room is more important than I am, and I’m just an accessory to his agenda. And I know that’s how this is supposed to be, but I guess it just hit me differently.” She swipes at her eyes again. “Fuck, I hate crying.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“As I said, it’s fine.” She sets her phone on the charger on her nightstand, then scoots to the far end of the bed, where she slips under her covers. “I’m tired, so I’m just going to go to bed. You can let yourself out.”

She turns her back toward me, and I realize I have two options here. I can either let her be and probably end up fucking this friendship up more than I want, or I can stay and let her know that she isn’t just an accessory.

I choose the latter.

I switch her light off, and I pull her covers back and slip under them as well.

Startled, she turns to face me and says through teary eyes, “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going to leave you sad like this. You say it’s fine, but it’s not.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Silas. It’s stupid, okay? I’m probably due for my period, so I’m more emotional than I care to admit.”

“Doesn’t lessen how you’re feeling,” I say softly. “I treated you like shit, and you don’t deserve that, even if you’re my fake girlfriend. I can understand where your embarrassment came from, and even though you asked me not to leave you, I still went off with Pacey.”

“That was fine. I talked with Winnie, and we had a good conversation. I’m not mad about that.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still went back on my word.” I take a chance and reach out to her, placing my hand on her bare waist. I allow my thumb to caress her skin. “I’m really sorry, Ollie. You deserve better than the way I treated you today.”

More tears spring from her eyes as she nods. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m being so emotional about this.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to apologize. I really fucked up, Ollie. I’m having a harder time dealing with the idea of Sarah being around than I thought I would.”

“I could tell you still have feelings for her,” Ollie says quietly.

“That’s it, though. I don’t,” I say. “I was mad. Irritated. Frustrated with her mindfuckery. That’s all this is to her, a way to fuck with my head, and it worked. And I’m so fucking mad at myself for letting her have that kind of control that I shut down. I shut down on myself and on you.”

“Are you sure you don’t still have feelings for her?”

“Positive,” I say, gripping her waist. “Did I think she looked good? Of course. That’s not something I can turn off, but when it came to how I felt, I was more irritated with her than anything.”

She slowly nods. “I can understand that feeling. I was irritated with Yonny the other night. He was kind, nice, and told me I deserved better than when we were together. What was the point of that?”

I rub my thumb along her skin again. “To fuck with you. That’s what they do. They try to mentally fuck with you. They try to keep us holding on to what we used to have.”

“Did it work for you?” she asks.

“It did. What about you?”

“A little,” she admits and then sighs, rolling to her back. I keep my hand on her stomach, and I feel her breath force her stomach to rise and fall. “I hate him. I think that’s the first time I truly admitted that. I really hate him. Sure, was I captured for a moment at the fundraiser? Yeah, but afterward, I felt empty and irritated, and I hate that he did that to me.” She turns toward me and reaches out to play with my sweater. “Is that how she made you feel?”

“Yes,” I answer, feeling like I have a kindred spirit in her. “Really fucking irritated. To the point that I ignored the one person who could force me to smile, even when talking about donkey perversion.”

That makes her laugh as she curls into my chest and wraps her arm around my back. I return the embrace, letting my hand float up the back of her short shirt.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Ollie.”

“I know. Thank you.” She pulls away and sighs. “Now I’m the one who’s exhausted.”

“I think we both deserve some rest.”

“We do.” She yawns. “Okay. I’m going to shut my eyes.”

“Okay . . .” I swallow and ask, “Do you mind if I stay?”

“Not at all,” she says. “As long as you don’t snore.”

I chuckle. “No need to worry about that.” I lift and pull my sweater over my head before I lie back down and snuggle into one of her pillows.

I feel the need to wrap my arm around her and pull her into my chest, but I know that’s not the kind of friendship we have, so instead, I tuck my hands under the pillow and get comfortable. I would love nothing more than to take off my jeans, but that would also push my luck.

“Ollie?” I ask, hoping she hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

“Yeah?”

“Is your name short for anything?”

She turns toward me again and smiles. “How long have you been wanting to ask that?”

“Day one,” I answer.

“Day one, huh?” She smirks, and fuck, it’s so cute, especially with her resting on her pillow, free of makeup, a sleepy look in her eyes. “What took you so long?”

“Thought it was appropriate now. I like Ollie, but I was curious if it was a nickname for something else.”

“It is, but no one, not even my parents, calls me by my real name.”

“What is it?”

“Not sure I should tell you. I don’t want you thinking you can use it.”

“When would I use it?”

She moves an inch closer till our knees touch and says, “If you were mad at me. Or obsessed maybe. Or in some passionate—yet fake—moment when you call me by my birth name, thinking it will make me weak in the knees. It won’t happen.”

“Good, because I have zero intention of using it.”

“Well, as long as you have no intention of using it . . .” Her teeth run over the corner of her mouth before she says, “My real name is Oliana. Oliana Owens.”

Ollie-ahn-uh.

My lips rub together and test her name on my tongue. “Oliana.” I tip her chin up and say, “That’s really fucking pretty.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” she says, pointing her finger at me.

“Oliana,” I repeat to myself.

“Stop.” She playfully pushes at my chest, but I capture her hand.

“It’s really . . . really fucking pretty.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a quiet pause between us when she wets her lips and her fingers slightly claw against my chest.

“What?” I say, breaking the silence.

“Nothing.” She smiles.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You want the truth?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Well, I’m feeling like I have a touch of whiplash with you. One second, you’re incredibly sweet and helping me through this odd arrangement we have, then the next, you ignore me completely, and now you’re back to the first guy.”

“The real man is the one you’re seeing now and the one you saw before the event. The in-between is a part of me that I hate.”

“Well, maybe you can lean on me a bit more next time.”

“Yeah.” I grip her hand that’s against my chest. “I think I will.”

“Good.” She covers her mouth while she yawns. “Now, let me get some sleep.”

“Okay. Night . . . Oliana.”

“Urghhh,” she grumbles. “I knew you would use it.”

I CHECK my phone and see that breakfast has been delivered, so I sneak out of bed and pad across the floor. Thankfully, I had them deliver it right to her door. So I crack the door open and pick up the bag of pastries and sandwiches, as well as the four coffees I’ve purchased because I was unsure of her preference.

I quietly shut the door and bring breakfast back to the main room, where I see her sit up in bed and rub her eye.

“Is that coffee I smell?” she asks.

I pause, right there in the middle of the floor, and stare at her. The light from her window shines in, illuminating her from behind. Pieces of her hair have tumbled out of her bun, framing her face, and her shirt that barely covers her breasts sits extremely tight against her hard nipples. I truly think every crop top she owns is my new favorite shirt because fuck it’s hot.

Her eye pops open, and she says, “Uh . . . you okay?” That’s when her eyes land on my bare chest, and I watch with satisfaction as they scan me. From the way my jeans ride very low on my hips, up my stacked stomach, and then to my large pecs, at this moment, even though I’m sore, I’ve never been happier about my workout routine.

“I’m fine, you?” I ask her.

“Good,” she replies quickly. “Is that, uh . . . is that breakfast?”

“It is.” I walk up to the bed, set the bag on her nightstand, and then check out the coffees. “I have a vanilla latte, caramel latte, black coffee, and a chai. I didn’t know what you would want.”

“Caramel please,” she says as she reaches out her hand. I find the latte and hand it to her while I pick up the black coffee for myself, grateful she didn’t choose that one since I really need it. “What’s in the bag?”

I pull out the contents and lay them on the nightstand. “Egg and sausage sandwiches, pastries, and a muffin. Once again, didn’t know what you wanted.”

“Egg sandwich all day, every day,” she says while snagging one. I do the same and then sit next to her. Together we unwrap the sandwiches and take a bite. “I could get used to this,” she says.

“Get used to what?”

“Hand-delivered breakfast in bed by a shirtless guy. Sign me up.”

“What do you like more? The shirtless guy or the breakfast?”

“Clearly the breakfast.” She smirks.

I playfully bump her shoulder with mine.

“You spill the coffee, you clean the sheets. Possibly purchase a new mattress.”

“Not a fan of the smell of coffee?” I ask.

“Not in my bed.”

I take another bite of my sandwich, then lean my head against her wall. “My dorm was nothing like this when I was in college.”

“Oh yeah, Granddad?” she says, causing me to smile. “Tell me, how was it back in the day?”

“You’re such a punk, you know that?”

“Makes this friendship more fun, don’t you think?”

“Makes me feel like a goddamn geriatric.”

She laughs out loud and turns toward me, legs crossed, sandwich in one hand, coffee in the other. “I’m sorry, please, regale me with your tales from ye old college years.”

“A punk,” I repeat, but she just bites into her sandwich. I take a sip of my coffee then say, “I had to share this space you have with another guy in college. And we didn’t have a bathroom. It was a communal bathroom.”

“Ooo, how many dicks did you see daily?”

“Really? That’s what you’re going to ask?”

“Naturally, would you expect anything else from me?” she asks.

I take a bite of my sandwich and then say, “Not really.”

“Okay then, so tell me about the penises.”

“Yeah, there were a lot of penises, but I was used to it because of playing hockey growing up. We were always showering naked in front of other guys.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, what’s the biggest penis you’ve ever seen?”

“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.”

“I guess not.” I scratch my chest and nod at her. “What are you up to today?”

“Need to get a workout in. Think I can stop by?”

“You can just come home with me.”

“And how do you expect me to get back to my dorm?”

“I have to run some errands, so when you’re done, I can drop you off.”

Her one brow hooks in the air. “When did you become my chauffeur?”

“If you want to drive yourself, that’s fine. I’m just offering.” I smooth my hand over my chest and stand from her bed. “But I’m leaving in a few, so you need to decide.”

“Well, that was a quick breakfast. You’re just going to swallow your sandwich whole and leave?”

“Did you want me to stay?” I ask.

“I don’t care what you do with your life.”

“Clearly, you do if you’re making a comment.”

“Only because I’m still trying to finish my breakfast, and you’re stating you’re leaving in like five seconds.”

“So you do want a ride . . .”

“Of course I do,” she says. “Honestly, do you think I enjoy driving?”

“Then why make a big deal about it?” I ask.

“Because, Silas, that’s what I do.”

THERE IS no way in hell I planned on lifting today, not after the way my muscles have been screaming at me, but I also need to loosen my legs, so I opted for walking on my treadmill.

What I didn’t think about was getting a front-row seat to watching Ollie perform three kinds of squats in leggings that were fit for her ass and her ass alone. They leave nothing to the imagination. They even ride up her crack so I get the perfect defined ass squatting up and down right in front of me. Not to mention, she paired the pants with a sports bra, which only lifts her tits rather than flattens them.

With her hair pulled back in a long ponytail, she’s walking around my gym like a goddamn wet dream. I’m over here trying to avoid looking at her so I don’t get hard while walking on a treadmill.

But hell . . . look at that ass.

Round.

High.

Tight.

It’s obvious the girl spends time on her squats.

And she’s doing some heavy weights too. I’m fucking impressed.

I glance down at the treadmill screen and see that I’ve hit thirty minutes, so I turn it off and thank God that I can step away from the first-class view of Ollie’s backside.

I fling my towel over my shoulder, grab my water, and head to my mat, where I pick up a foam roller. Time to experience pain.

I lie down on my side on the roller and roll out my IT band, cringing and trying not to groan the entire time. But motherfucker, does it hurt. It’s not like I don’t work out during the off-season because I do. It’s important to stay in good shape, but it’s never as intense as when we’re in preseason, and I never skate either. So waking those muscles up again is painful.

“You okay over there?” Ollie asks as she sets her weight on the rack.

“Did I groan out loud?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s terrifying.”

“Sorry. Just really fucking sore.” I roll my leg out more and then switch sides.

“Is it always this bad?” she asks as she puts the weights away and wipes down the bar.

“Yeah. During preseason, there’s always a point when our coach decides to ride us hard—and not in a sexual way.”

“I would hope not. That’s a lot of men for your coach to handle.”

I chuckle and continue to roll while wincing. “And it’s always around this time when I get incredibly sore.”

“The other guys seemed fine.”

“They’re braver than me.”

“At least you can admit that.” She picks up her water and walks toward me. “Need some help?”

“Uh, I think I’m okay,” I say. “Just going to finish up, then hit up my sauna.”

“Sauna?” she says. “You never told me you have a sauna.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Afraid not. I would have remembered that. Where is it?”

I point. “Door on the left.”

Her eyes widen with joy. “Can I use it?”

“You can use anything in here. Towels are in the bathroom. Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll take over.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can come in with me.” She taps my leg. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover up even though I love sitting in a sauna naked.”

“Yeah, so do I.”

“If this agreement was a whorehouse, I would tell you to drop the towel. Not to even bother.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah, well, good thing it’s not a whorehouse.”

“Yeah, good thing,” she replies with a smirk and takes off. “See you in the sauna.”

I finish rolling, giving her a few minutes to get comfy, and when I’m fully stretched and feeling slightly more relaxed, I go to my bathroom, where I strip out of my clothes and wrap a towel around my waist. I’ve never gone into my sauna with a towel, but there’s a first time for everything.

Hand clutching the terrycloth, I walk up to the frosted glass door of my sauna and open it only to find Ollie stretched out along one of the benches, a towel under her and a towel barely covering her lengthwise. Instead of it wrapped around her body, she just has it draped over the top of her breasts, leaving her side boob on full display, and then positioned thinly between her legs so I get a great view of her entire side.

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.

I want to be touched like that.

I want to be worshipped.

I want to feel fucking wanted.

“You’re easily the most attractive, nicest man I’ve ever met, despite your penchant to be grouchy a lot of the time.” She stands in front of me and hinges at the hip so we’re eye to eye. She lifts her hand to my cheek and slowly brings her thumb over my lips, dragging it down. I consider sucking her finger into my mouth or pulling her onto my lap . . . possibly laying her across me so I can spank her ass, just like I wanted to when she was working out. “You deserve better,” she whispers. “You deserve a woman who not only wants your cock . . . but craves it.” And with that, she lifts and turns so all I see is her perfect backside walking away. She glances over her shoulder where she catches my wandering eyes, fixated on exactly what she wants me to fixate on. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be in your living room, waiting whenever you want to take me home.”

How about never?

How about you come sit on my goddamn lap right now?

How about you let me fuck you so I can get this burning feeling out of my system that seems to develop whenever you’re around?

“Okay,” I answer in a strangled voice, my cock begging for her touch. “Shower for me, too.”

She winks. “Don’t think about me while you’re in there.” And then she retreats to the guest shower.

Don’t fucking think of her?

Next to impossible.

I make a beeline for my bedroom, and once I’m inside, I rip my towel off, go straight to the shower, and flip on the water. I step in, gather some soap in my hand, and then perch my arm against the tile as I grip my hard dick and stroke.

“Fuck,” I moan quietly.

Don’t think about me?

How could I fucking not?

For the past hour and a half, I’ve been suffering through blue balls as I watched her squat, experienced her stretched out in my sauna, beads of sweat dripping down her soft skin, then getting a show of her ass as she walked away, all tight and high, begging for my hands . . . for my cock.

“Fuck me,” I mutter and pump harder.

Ollie in her crop tops, no bra . . . nipples hard.

Ollie in that dress from her fundraiser and her phenomenal tits.

Ollie in her workout outfit . . .

I pump harder, my balls already beginning to tighten.

I bite down on my lip, my impending orgasm seconds away.

Don’t be fucking loud.

Don’t be . . .

“Oh . . . God.” I hear through the bathroom vent, causing my eyes to nearly pop open. Was that Ollie?

It had to be.

Is she, fuck, is she getting off too?

Just the thought of her touching herself in my apartment has me gripping my cock tighter and shooting right over the edge.

I bite down on my forearm as I come all over the shower tile.

My entire body shakes as I steady myself and push off the wall. I slip under the hot water and let it drip down my body as I think about how that was the first time I jacked off to Ollie. And how it won’t be the last.