Right Man, Right Time
: Chapter 13

I haven’t slept well for the past three days.

All thanks to fucking Ollie.

I’m still pissed.

I’m pissed that she didn’t tell her boss to fuck off, and I’m even more pissed that she brought up Sarah. She has no fucking idea about the bullshit I went through with Sarah, so she shouldn’t be speaking a word about her.

Water bottle in hand, I walk into the weight room, knowing I’m not going to be alone, and head right to the wind bikes, where I set my drink down and hop on to warm up.

This is fucking ridiculous. I’m not even dating the fucking girl, and she’s driving me nuts. I should just tell her the deal is off. I thought this was going to be a good idea, but I was wrong. This is more than I think my mind can handle. I’ve stayed up until the early morning hours going over our conversation in my head. She claims she wasn’t going to write an exposé, but it almost seemed like she was seeing if I could be okay with it.

Never.

I would never be okay with it.

“Dude, you okay?” Posey asks. “You’re riding that bike pretty damn hard for a warm-up.”

I didn’t even realize. I slow down and say, “Looking for a good burn before I get started.”

“Brave,” Posey says. “I never look for a burn.”

He’s such a liar. Being one of our defenders, Posey is always in the weight room, trying to keep a leg up on the competition.

“Is Ollie excited about going to the sponsorship party tonight?” Posey asks.

“I don’t think she’s going to attend.”

“Oh . . .” He slows down his pace. “Is there something going on? Is that why you’ve been in a shit mood the last few days?”

Yes.

“No,” I answer. “I think she has other plans.”

“I see.” He pauses. “Dude, are you not bringing her because Sarah will be there? I hate to admit it, but Pacey said he saw how you looked at Sarah at the ice-skating event. He thought it was concerning, like . . . like you were still in love.”

I stop my bike. Sarah will be there tonight? Fuck. Why did I think she wouldn’t be a part of the event tonight? Of course she is. And then I register what Posey said after that.

I hop off the bike. “I’m not in love with her.”

Posey follows me over to the weight rack, trailing closely. “Are you sure? Ollie seems pretty cool, and I don’t want you hurting her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” I say as I stack weights for warm-up squats.

“Okay . . . because she seems really young.”

“She is,” I reply. Younger than I care to admit.

“And you can do damage to a girl that young if your head isn’t on straight.”

“What are you? Her fucking father? Jesus, Posey.”

“No, but I also know when your head is elsewhere, and that’s what’s been going on lately. I’m worried you’re thinking about Sarah.”

“I’m not fucking thinking about her,” I shout. “Now get off my back.”

Posey holds up his hands and takes a step back. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“No, you’re driving me nuts. I want nothing to do with Sarah.”

“You sure?” Posey asks and then glances around the nearly empty weight room. “Because . . .” He pauses and takes a step forward. “Because I overheard her at the ice-skating event after you left. She was excited to have the job so she could be close to you again.”

I lift my head. “She said that?”

“Yes, and the last thing I want to see is you getting back together with her. Hell, man, she hurt you so bad you still haven’t told us the truth about your breakup and everything that went down. I’m not sure you told anyone.”

I haven’t told a soul.

“It’s none of anyone’s business.”

“And then this summer, when you started talking to her again—”

“That was brief and won’t be happening again. Seriously, we’re done. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, well, just watch your back because I don’t want you to get into a bunch of trouble because of Sarah.” He pats me on the back and returns to the bike, where he continues to warm up. See . . . he likes the burn.

As I rest the bar on my shoulders and take a step back from the rack to start my squats, all I can think about is how Sarah will be at that event tonight and that I don’t want to be alone with her. I know how Sarah can be. Hell, I experienced it this summer. She can be incredibly convincing, and for some stupid-as-shit reason, I’m easily convinced. But one thing I do know for sure? I am not in love with her anymore. I will never love her again.

I KNOW THIS IS STUPID.

I don’t need anyone judging me for what I’m about to do, but I thought about it all fucking day, and I don’t have any other options. So as I head off the elevator, I go straight to Ollie’s dorm room, ready to force her to go with me tonight.

And knowing her, she’ll put up a goddamn fight.

Have we spoken since our fight at my place?

Nope.

Not even a text message.

So she’s not going to be expecting me or my request.

Or my lack of apology . . .

Standing in front of her door, I give it two loud knocks, then stick my hands in my suit pockets. I went with a forest-green suit tonight with a white button-up shirt and brown shoes with a matching belt. I paired the outfit with my favorite brown leather-wrapped watch and my signature Tom Ford cologne.

It takes a few seconds, but when she answers the door, I’m subjected to another one of those goddamn crop tops . . . and an angry scowl.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“We have an event to go to, sweet cheeks,” I say, but my voice sounds more menacing than anything.

“You can fuck right off,” she says, attempting to shut the door, but I stop her and push my way into her dorm room.

She stumbles backward, shocked by my brazenness. Hands on her hips, she says, “Oh no, you did not just charge your way in here.”

I shut the door behind me and adjust the cuffs of my sleeves as I say, “A deal is a deal, Oliana, which means you need to get yourself dressed and come with me.”

“You said you didn’t want me to come with you tonight.”

“My plans changed. Now get dressed.”

“Do you really think you can come in here and boss me around?” Her nipples are hard now, and it’s next to impossible not to at least glance at them.

“I’m not bossing you around. I’m telling you that you signed a contract, and now I’m expecting you to live up to that.”

“It was a napkin. I could have wiped my nose with it if I wanted to.” She folds her arms together and poses in the most defiant stance I think I’ve ever witnessed.

“A deal is a deal. Now get fucking dressed before I do it for you.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks.

I prepared for this question, knowing damn well she would put up a fight. And I hate to do this to her, but she needs to come with me tonight. I need the defense.

“If you don’t, then I’m going to go to the owner of the Agitators and tell him about the article.”

Her face falls, and her arms drop to her sides. “You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t want to test me.”

She stares me down for a few seconds before she huffs and turns toward her closet. “You realize I’m going to hate you until the end of time, right?”

“Whatever gets you dressed up, babe,” I say as I make my way into her dorm and sit on her bed. I watch as she digs around in her closet. She tosses a pair of black strappy heels toward the center of the room and then retrieves a long black outfit.

When I think she’s going to head into the bathroom to get changed, she doesn’t. With her back turned toward me, she pulls her crop top over her head before pushing her sweatpants down, revealing her thin black thong.

My mouth waters at the sight of that rear end again and her bare, muscular back with the rarest of glimpses of side boob as she fits her outfit on. She pulls it up, revealing a black one-piece of sorts with pant legs and a tight-fitted top.

“I need you to zip me up,” she says, her back still toward me.

Pushing off the bed, I walk up behind her. I drape her long hair over one shoulder, then rest my hand on her waist. Her back stiffens, and as I grip the small black zipper, I move my hand up her rib cage until I pause right below her breast. Holding tightly, I slowly pull the zipper up, the entire time feeling her breath inflate and deflate her lungs until she’s all the way zipped up, and I pull away.

Without a word, she storms off into the bathroom and closes the door.

She wants to play with fire by stripping in front of me? She’s going to get it in return.

I sit on her bed again and pull out my phone. I scroll through emails for the next ten minutes, and when she’s finally ready and opens the bathroom door, she emerges with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, a heavy smoky eye, and what looks like fake eyelashes. She topped the look off with bright red lipstick.

Yup . . . she’s fucking hot.

Not to mention, the neckline of her outfit cuts down to the spot just below her breasts, once again offering an abundance of cleavage for all to see. It must be her signature move, to show off her breasts whenever she gets a chance. And I’m going to tell you right now, it fucking works.

As she slips her shoes on, I realize one thing. I hate that even though I’m mad at her, I still think she’s hot. I don’t want to be attracted to her, but it’s inevitable. I can’t stop it. And I can’t stop the way my eyes scan her, resting for a moment too long on her breasts, on her lips, on those eyes.

She stands tall, flips her ponytail over her shoulder, and snatches a clutch from her closet before stuffing her phone, wallet, lipstick, and key in it. She tucks the clutch under her arm and says, “Let’s go, master.”

Better than fart face. Guess I’ll take it.

We’re silent the entire trip out of the dorm. I honestly expected nothing less than her glacial attitude.

When we reach my car, I open the door for her and watch her get in, then, taking her seat belt, I loop it over her and click it in. When I pull back, I hear her sharp inhale, only for her eyes to connect with mine in confusion.

“Just want to make sure you don’t bolt.”

Her face falls. “Aren’t you a funny guy?” No. Just a bit desperate it seems.

She doesn’t bother talking to me, and I don’t bother talking to her until we’re five minutes from the event.

“You’re going to have to act like you like me in there.”

“This is not my first rodeo, Potato.”

Ah, so we’ve sunk to that level of pettiness. Guess it’s fair, given what I had to say to get her in this car.

“There will be major sponsors here, people who pay me a lot of fucking money, so no donkey pervert story. Just say we ran into each other at the zoo.”

“And shield them from the true story of who you are? That’s doing them a disservice.”

“The real story would be you assaulting me in a bar, but I have enough class to hold back on telling that tale.”

She whips her head toward me. “Are you saying I don’t have class?”

“Take it as you want,” I say as I pull up to valet.

“Well, if that’s the way you want to play the game,” she says.

“Don’t, Oliana,” I say in a stern voice. “I swear to fuck, if you embarrass me in there, you won’t like the repercussions.”

“Oh Potato, I have zero plans of embarrassing you.”

Why do I replace that incredibly hard to believe? But I don’t have time to hash it out with her because the valet is opening our doors.

I hand them the key and then make my way around the car where I meet up with Ollie. She takes my hand and snuggles in close to my side just in time for a few cameras to flash in our direction.

Fuck, I completely forgot about the press.

I turn to Ollie and say, “Don’t talk to anyone. Just smile, and I’ll guide you inside.”

Surprisingly, she does as she’s told, and we make it past the press box and into the venue, where we’re immediately greeted by Hector Fuentes, the CEO of Skin Leisure, the clothing brand that I recently signed a seven-figure deal with.

“Silas Taters, glad you could make it,” Hector says while patting me on the back. “And who did you bring with you tonight?”

“Hector, it’s great to see you,” I say, turning on the charm. “This is my girlfriend, Ollie Owens.”

“Ollie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Ollie says.

“Well, help yourself to drinks and food. There are gift bags for everyone as well. Enjoy the night. We’re looking forward to cheering you on this season, Silas.”

“Thank you. We’re looking good. I feel like we have another shot at the cup this year.” I give him a handshake, and then I press my hand to Ollie’s back and guide her into the main ballroom. “Need a drink?” I ask her.

“As if you care,” she says, smiling up at me, and then grips my hand in hers. “But yes, I’m thirsty.”

I don’t give in to her need to press my buttons, so hand in hand, we walk over to the bar, where I replace a very familiar face.

“Silas Taters, holy shit.” JP Cane walks up to me and holds his hand out.

We shake, and I say, “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“I’m not alone. Brought Ryot Bisley with me. You know us. If there’s a place where sponsors are gathering with athletes, we want to be there.”

“That’s why you own the leading sports app in the world.” I bring Ollie forward and say, “JP, this is my girlfriend, Ollie Owens. Ollie, this is JP Cane. He and his brothers, Huxley and Breaker, invested in The Jock Report, something started by Ryot Bisley, his brother Banner, and Penn Cutler. Penn and Ryot both played for the Chicago Bobbies.”

“Oh, yes,” Ollie says. “I heard about The Jock Report.” That’s surprising, given she hasn’t heard about me. “Wasn’t it started because of poor reporting in the media?” Aah, that’s why she’s heard of it.

JP nods. “It was. Now the athletes have their own voice and can interact with fans without having to worry about an algorithm or having their words turned around on them. Trying to get your boyfriend to join.”

“Just haven’t had time yet. I promise I will. I’m sure I’ll need something to scroll through on our away trips.”

JP chuckles, then turns his attention back to Ollie. “What do you do, Ollie?”

“Majoring in journalism, actually,” she says with a smile and then leans forward. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of reporting on sports or twisting anyone’s words. I prefer how-to lifestyle stuff.”

And for some reason, I feel like that’s a dig at me.

“Lifestyle?” JP asks. “Do you ever cover charitable organizations? Because I have one that could really use some more people backing it.”

“Not really, but I know some people who do.”

JP reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a business card. “Email me. I’d love to get in touch. The more of a reach, the better.”

“Of course.” Ollie sticks the card in her clutch, and we say our goodbyes before ordering our drinks at the bar.

I rest my hand on the nape of her neck as we wait. Talking closely to her, I say, “Were you making a dig at me back there?”

She turns toward me and rests her hand on my chest while she tilts her head back to look me in the eyes. We probably look like the picture-perfect couple. But at the moment, nothing but annoyance, frustration, and a pinch of hate flows between us.

“Did you know that the world doesn’t revolve around you, Silas? Crazy thought, I know. But something you might have to come to terms with.”

She slides her hand up my chest, to my neck, and then stands on her toes and kisses the bottom of my chin. When she pulls away, she whispers, “If we weren’t in a room of people right now, I would knee you so hard in the dick for making me strip out of my sweatpants and put on this uncomfortable outfit.”

My jaw clenches, and I’m about to respond when our drinks are placed in front of us. Wanting to get out of earshot, I take her free hand and guide her to a sitting area. I expect her to sit in the chair next to me, but she sits on my lap and loops her arm over my shoulders. Her hand goes straight to my hair, where she lightly plays with it.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, my back stiff.

“Playing the doting girlfriend of course. I mean, you’re Silas Taters, after all, and I’m just a lonely college girl who is so lucky to have you in her life, so I’m going to show you that with my body.”

“Ollie,” I say through clenched teeth as she brings her mouth to my ear and runs her nose very softly along my cheek, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps.

“Mmm, I wonder where Sarah is. I hope she can see the way you stare at my chest. Don’t act like I don’t see you.”

I keep my breath steady as I lift my Sprite with lime to my lips. I should have ordered alcohol.

“I don’t see what the hold up is with her anyway. Sure, she’s gorgeous,” Ollie says as her lips press against my cheek. “And okay, you guys were high school sweethearts.” She kisses me again, this time closer to my mouth. “But did she ever enjoy sucking your cock?”

“Oliana,” I say through clenched teeth.

“You know, hearing you say my real name, it’s starting to make me feel . . . hot.” She squirms on my lap. “Say it again.”

I turn to look her in the eyes, and while keeping a neutral face, I ask through thinned lips, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Being the girlfriend. Isn’t this what you want? To make Sarah jealous? Well, she’s here somewhere, and I’m just trying to show her who you belong to.” She leans in even closer and whispers in my ear. “Even if you don’t get to fuck my tight, wet pussy.”

My breathing picks up, and I can feel my dick harden from the thought of what her pussy would be like, squeezing my cock until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“You don’t want to play this game, Ollie.”

“Who says I’m playing?” she asks as she stands from my lap and sets her drink down. She leans forward, giving me the perfect view of her chest, and she grips my chin and says, “I’m going to freshen up.” Then she presses her lips right to mine.

Soft.

Supple.

Addicting.

I’m so fucking tempted to slip my hand behind her head and keep her close to me, but I keep my hand still, resting on my thigh as she pulls away.

She rubs her lips together and whispers, “Delicious.” And then she walks away, keeping my attention the whole fucking time.

Goddammit. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s working. She’s not going to get back at me with wild, false stories about ridiculous ways we met, but she’ll spend the evening trying to turn me on. Well, it’s fucking working.

I bring my glass up to my lips just as I see a flash of blonde from the corner of my eye. I turn just in time for Sarah to lock eyes with me. Decked out in a navy blue, off-the-shoulder dress with her hair curled around her shoulders, she looks classically stunning as she approaches me with a large smile.

“Silas,” she says as she leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. I don’t return the gesture. “It’s so good to see you.” She takes a seat next to me and rests her hand on my knee. “This suit looks amazing on you.”

“Thanks,” I say before taking a sip of my drink.

“Isn’t this space gorgeous? I worked with the sponsors on securing the location. I love the vaulted ceilings.”

How can she talk to me like everything is okay between us, and we’re just old friends catching up? Like she didn’t annihilate me by her unfaithfulness.

“Oh, and the food selection is supreme. I might have gone to the tasting and had far too many bruschettas than I care to admit.”

I can’t believe I used to kiss those lips.

Worship those lips.

Wish those lips would slip over my dick and suck until I came. But they never did.

She glances around the room, then leans in even more, her hand now inching up my thigh. “I can’t wait for the season to start. It feels like Christmas is coming. I always loved watching you play.”

That’s the truth. She did.

Even though we had our ups and downs, when she was in the stands, I could always count on her to cheer me on. For the longest time, she was my number one fan, the one encouraging me, telling me to do one more rep.

“And I get to be closer to the ice because I’ll be assisting with the on-ice sponsored events. I can practically smell the arena now.”

She wets her lips, leaning in even closer, her hand inching up my thigh. Too far.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“Talking to you,” she says innocently.

“No, what are you doing touching me? I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I was just being friendly,” she says, pulling her hand away just as Ollie walks up to us. And from the look in her eyes, I can tell she’s not happy . . . again.

“Sarah, how nice to see you,” Ollie says as she bends down to give Sarah a hug. Awkwardly, Sarah returns it.

“Uh . . . Olivia, great to see you.”

“It’s Ollie,” I correct with a venomous tone.

“It’s okay,” Ollie says while slipping onto my lap. She grips my chin and says, “Sorry for keeping you waiting, baby.” She brings her lips a whisper away from mine, and I feel my breath catch right before she closes the distance, melting her mouth to mine. My arm slides around her waist, and I allow myself to get lost in her touch for a second before she pulls away.

She turns her attention back to Sarah. “Your dress is beautiful. Where did you get it?”

“Nordstrom,” Sarah says, looking pissed.

“I love shopping there. They always carry classic lines.”

“They do.” Sarah glances around. “Well, I should get back to the event, make sure everyone has everything they need.” She stands and places her hand on my shoulder. “Can’t wait to see you out there, Silas. Have a good night.” And then she takes off. I bring my glass of Sprite to my lips to wash the delicious taste of Ollie from them. If I don’t, I’m going to want more.

“Once again, flirting with the ex,” she whispers into my ear.

“I was not fucking flirting,” I say through clenched teeth as she runs her fingers over the back of my neck, fucking with my head because it feels so damn good.

“Her hand was on your thigh.”

“And I told her to take it off because I had a girlfriend.” I squeeze her waist tighter.

“You might not think it, but I can see it in your eyes that you still think about her.”

Getting really irritated with this line of questioning, I ask, “Why do I matter to you? Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Over you?” She laughs. “You and I both know I could do better.”

Now that just fucking pisses me off.

I dig my fingers into her side and say, “I’m more man than you could fucking handle.”

Her breath becomes erratic as her eyes connect with mine. She’s about to open her mouth when I hear Posey say, “There you are. Hey, Ollie, good to see you.”

Ollie plasters a smile on her face and waves politely at Posey. “Hey. I’m so sorry, but you’re going to have to remind me of your name. For the life of me, I can’t keep you all straight.”

My most easygoing friend laughs it off. “I’m Levi Posey. The most attractive out of the group. That’ll help you remember.”

“Oh, I could not agree more. Easily the most attractive.”

Posey laughs. “You’re dating a smart one, Tates.”

Yeah, I am, and she’s putting up one hell of a match.

FOR THE TENTH time in five minutes, I grind my teeth together and hold my breath as Ollie’s leg rubs against my crotch. I know she’s doing it on purpose. There’s no other explanation, and at this point, I simply deal with it because if I try to get up, I’ll give everyone a goddamn show.

I’ve also just sat here while Posey and Ollie have hit it off completely, making me even more irritated. Apparently, they both had some magical time in a place called Canoodle in Southern California. They vacationed there separately when they were younger, but when they found out they both had been, they haven’t stopped talking about it.

“Did you see the renovated pictures of the Canoodle Cove Cabins?” Ollie asks as her hand sifts through the hair at the base of my neck, making me that much harder. Her nails are just long enough to drive me fucking crazy.

“I haven’t. They redid them?”

“Yes, I read a whole article about it. I was writing a piece about must-see small towns, and Canoodle was on there, with the cabins being the number one place to stay. They’re beautiful.”

“I need to check it out,” Posey says just as her leg rubs against my erection once again.

Unable to take it, I lean into her ear and whisper, “Knock it the fuck off.”

She just smiles.

“What was your top place to visit?” Posey asks.

“Port Snow, Maine. Followed up by Bright Harbor. They’re neighboring towns. Especially during the holidays, it feels like you’re walking through a Lovemark movie. I love it there. You need to put it on your bucket list and stop by The Lobster Landing for some fudge.”

“Fuck, I love fudge,” Posey says. He then slaps me on the leg. “Dude, we should go there this summer before we head up to Banff.”

“You realize they’re on completely opposite ends of North America.”

“Can’t afford the plane ticket? Jesus, man.”

Ollie chuckles and then presses her lips to my cheek and down my jaw. “He can be such a grouch, can’t he?”

“Should have seen him last summer. He was insufferable.”

“Fuck off,” I say just as Ryot Bisley, a co-founder of The Jock Report, comes up to us.

“Hey, boys, it’s been a while.” He shakes our hands and turns to Ollie. “I’m Ryot.”

“Hello, Ryot. I’m Ollie, Silas’s girlfriend.”

Ryot smirks. “Maybe I can convince you to convince your boyfriend to join The Jock Report.”

“JP was just reminding me,” I say. “I promise, I’ll join.”

“Good, because we have fans asking about you. And you don’t have to do much. Interact as much or as little as you want.”

“It’s pretty simple,” Posey says. “I actually like reading the different posts from athletes, and those are the only posts you see, which is fucking awesome. You don’t see random commentary from others. It’s just straight from the athlete’s mouth.”

Ollie pauses her seduction and says, “That’s such a cool concept. Do you feel like the athletes can connect with their fans on a different level than, let’s say . . . Instagram?”

Ryot nods. “The great thing about The Jock Report is that we’re not using it as an advertising platform. The Jock Report is for the voices of our athletes.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you turn a profit?”

“Every athlete and team who have a profile have a shop on the platform. We earn a percentage of those shops as well as from sponsors who sponsor our top ten plays of the week and things like that. And since the feed isn’t drowned out by every interest out there, we can charge a higher price because their product will be shown.”

“Fascinating,” Ollie says. “You could really take that business model and apply it to the top markets.”

“You could. It’s something the Cane brothers are actually looking into.”

“What don’t they do?” Posey asks.

“I don’t know how they’re not exhausted, but hey, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just need to talk to Posey real quick about his shop on The Jock Report. Mind if I steal him away?”

“Not at all,” I say, my body cooling down from the brief pause from Ollie’s interest in The Jock Report. It’s the perfect time to stand up.

“I need another drink,” Posey says. “Come with me.”

They take off, and I lift Ollie off my leg and stand.

“Aw, are we leaving so soon? I didn’t get to get you off.”

“Not fucking funny,” I say, extremely irritated.

“I’m surprised you can stand from how hard you were. And I wasn’t even stroking you. Has it really been that long for you?”

I grip her by the waist and pull her into my chest. Talking into her ear, I say, “Just you fucking wait.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes,” I say as I slip my hand into hers and pull her toward the exit.

We make our way through the crowd, trying to get away with an Irish goodbye, but unfortunately, several people stop me. And every time we stop, Ollie ends up pressing her breasts into my arm, or rubbing me in a way that she knows will turn me on, or even standing on her toes to kiss me. It’s become so obnoxious that by the time we get into my car and I start pulling away, I can feel my pulse in my ears.

“Fun night,” she says in a smarmy voice that makes me want to give her a taste of her own medicine.

She won’t want to mess with me again.