Right Man, Right Time
: Chapter 17

I dig my fingers into the couch for the tenth time in five minutes as I watch Ollie grind against Ross. All I can think about is how I wish it was me. How I wish I had my hand pressing into her stomach, keeping her close to me, letting her do all of the work.

But my head is screaming at me no.

I’m not in a position to start anything with her.

Not when I’m still struggling with how Sarah broke me.

Not with the new season.

And especially not with the way I want to physically claim her until she can’t fucking walk.

“Are you really in here alone?” Posey asks as he steps into the VIP section with Holmes and Rivers.

“Yeah,” I answer, though I keep my eyes ahead, watching Ollie.

“Why? Your girl is out on the dance floor. Don’t you want to dance with her?” Posey asks, taking a seat.

“She’s having fun. I’m not going to wreck that.” I glance at Holmes and say, “Surprised to see you here.”

“He’s attempting to get a certain someone out of his head,” Posey says.

“Dude, come on,” Holmes bemoans. “You said you weren’t going to say anything about her.”

“I just mentioned it, nothing more.” Posey lifts a bottle of beer to his lips that he must have grabbed on his way in here.

“I told him to go for it,” Rivers says. “Holmes is a catch. You’re telling me she wouldn’t choose you over some other guy?”

“She won’t,” Holmes says as he sinks into his chair and lifts his beer as well. The server appears at that moment and brings the boys more bottles.

When she stands tall, she says, “There are some girls who want to come join you boys. Would you like me to let them in?”

“In a second,” Posey says.

When the server leaves, I raise my brow at him. “Getting into trouble tonight?”

“Celebrating our first victory,” he replies. “And attempting to replace a girl for Holmes. Rivers, you’re on your own, bud.”

“Actually, Ollie’s good friend Ross is interested,” I say just as I look out toward the dance floor and catch a guy grinding into Ollie.

Red-hot anger flashes through my body in seconds, and I replace myself standing just as Ross filters in. “Hey,” he says. “Uh, who all is here?”

I don’t even bother with introductions. I blow right by him and head toward the dance floor. He’s outgoing enough to fend for himself.

I have one thing on my mind, and it’s to get that fucker off Ollie immediately.

Not that it really matters, but Sarah’s betrayal was private, unseen—thank fuck. But if Ollie is photographed with another guy so soon into our “relationship”, it will be very, very public.

Let’s be real, Silas. This has nothing to do with paparazzi.

Okay, Ollie might not be mine, but she isn’t going to be someone else’s, that’s for damn sure.

Mine.

My fists clutch at my sides, my jaw is so tight I think I might crack a molar, and with every step I take forward, I feel myself growing angrier and angrier until I reach them and tug on the guy’s arm, pulling him away.

“Silas,” Ollie says in shock.

“Dude, what the—hey, you’re Silas Taters.”

“I am, and you’re dancing with my girl. So unless you want to know what it’s like to have your face beaten in by a professional hockey player, then I suggest you leave her the fuck alone.”

The guy holds up his hands and takes a step back. “Dude, I had no idea.”

“Beat it,” I growl.

The man gets the hint, and without another word, he takes off.

“Was that necessary?” Ollie asks, arms folded, looking just as angry as me.

“Don’t fucking test me tonight, Ollie. I’m not in the mood.”

“Excuse me, but I’m pretty sure it’s my birthday. Therefore, I can dance with whoever the hell I want.”

“It might be your birthday, but my boys are also here, which means you shouldn’t be dancing with anyone but me.”

“Is that really the reason you just scared the piss out of that poor guy? Or is it because you can’t stand the thought of another man touching me?”

My jaw works to the side as I look away. She’s got me pegged. I could give two shits about my boys being here. What I care about is her being close to another man. Touching another man. Even looking at another goddamn man.

“Answer the question, Silas.”

“Both,” I say. And when a satisfied smile crosses her face, I know I’m fucked.

How could I not be fucked?

Ollie is easily the sexiest woman in this club. Hell, the sexiest I’ve ever seen. She has me by the balls, even if I want to believe that’s not the truth.

“Then dance with me,” she says as she slides her hand up my chest and around my neck, pulling me onto the dance floor. “I want to feel you against my body.”

“Ollie,” I groan as she spins and presses her backside to my front. She starts moving to the music, and I just stand there, letting her rub against me, enjoying every goddamn second of it.

She moves my hand around her waist and presses it against her bare stomach, just like I envisioned. As she moves against me, her ass grinding into my pelvis, I replace myself growing more and more frustrated with holding back rather than just taking what I want.

Maybe for a moment, just a moment, I can give in.

I can take.

So I allow myself to loosen up, and I pull her in even closer as I move my hips with her. Her hand grips the back of my neck, anchoring herself in place, and I explore her body with my hands as we dance together, in unison, like this is what we were meant to do our entire lives.

Everything else around us fades, and it feels like just me and her out here on the dance floor. There isn’t a fake contract, there aren’t complications, and there’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the two of us.

She grinds into me. I bite my bottom lip, holding her right where I want her, and together, we move, her ass making me harder with every beat of the music. I grow so hard that my body starts to float from the euphoria of it all. All intelligent thoughts dissolve, and I’m left with pure animalistic behavior.

I want more.

I need more.

With one thing on my mind, I move her over to a wall where I spin her around and prop one of her hands against the wall as my other hand moves up her body just below her breast.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” I say as I lean close and move my mouth against her ear.

“I want you inside me,” she says, her leg snaking around mine, sending a beat of electricity up my spine.

My will bends, and I press even closer into her pelvis, showing her how much she turns me on. When she lets out a light moan, my body tenses, prepping for more. I grip her by the ass, lift her up so she circles her legs around my waist, and pin her against the wall, her center lined up with my hard-on.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” I ask as I thrust my cock into her pelvis.

“Didn’t think you would care.” Her hands thread through my hair.

I thrust again, and this time, she lets out the sexiest fucking moan I’ve ever heard. “When it comes to you, I care about everything.”

“If you cared, then you wouldn’t torture me,” she says as she moves her forehead against mine. “I want you, Silas. I want you so much that I think about you at night when I’m pleasuring myself. I think about you in the morning, wondering if you missed me from the night before. I think about you so much that it makes it hard for me to concentrate during the day. Please tell me you feel the same about me.”

I thrust against her again, and again . . . and again, my breath becoming labored as a trickle of sweat rolls down my back. Her grip on me becomes deathly as she whispers, “Tell me, Silas, tell me you want me.”

“Of course I fucking want you. Jesus Christ, Ollie.”

Keeping her right where I want her, I thrust again. Her head falls against the wall, her panting growing heavier. I lower my mouth to her neck where I nip, lick . . . trail kisses along the column, all the way up her jawline. I lift her chin so our mouths line up, and as I stare down at her, my need for her driving my every move, I wet my lips.

“Do it,” she says breathlessly. “Kiss me, Silas.”

My breath is heavy in my chest as I stare down at her luscious lips. Fuck do I want to kiss her so bad. I want to relive the moment from the hallway, sink back into her embrace, and get lost for hours. But even though my pulse is beating so fast I can hear it in my ears, I also know . . . I can’t.

“I want to deserve you.”

“You do,” she says, her hands gripping me tightly.

“I don’t,” I say as I pause my hips, realizing what I’m doing. Dry-humping Ollie in a public place is not the smartest idea where anyone could see us. So I lower her to the ground despite her protest.

“Don’t,” she says. “Please, Silas, don’t pull away.”

If only it were that easy.

I take her hand in mine, and I move her through the dance floor and back to the VIP booth. Ross is already chatting up Ian while Posey is talking to a girl, and Holmes is talking to two. I hope he knows what he’s doing.

“Hey, man,” Posey says, easily reading my expression. “You out?”

“Yes,” I say. I glance at Ross and catch his attention. “You good if we leave?”

“Perfect,” he says.

“Good.” I grip Ollie’s hand even tighter and say, “Let’s go.”

I’m halfway out of the VIP suite when she says, “I don’t want to go.”

But I don’t listen as I pull her through the club and out the front door where I hand my valet ticket to the valet.

“Silas, I said I wasn’t done.”

“I know what you said.”

“Then release me so I can go back in.”

“No,” I answer.

“You can’t control—”

I yank her into my side and speak closely to her ear. “Don’t argue with me. Not right now.” And then lightly, I press my lips to hers, enough to keep her quiet but not too much to get me any more worked up.

The drive back to her dorm room is quiet. I have nothing to say because I’m wavering between what I should do and what I shouldn’t do.

My conscience is causing my head to spin and my body to be at war with my mind.

The frustration climbing up my spine becomes so monumental that I feel like I can’t breathe. I blackout the entire way there. When I park, I don’t even remember how we got here. All I know is that I’m about to combust.

I like Ollie. When I first met her, sure, I thought she was hot, but I also knew she’d be someone who could help me. I never considered building feelings for her. But her patience, her tenderness, and her understanding have slowly peeled away at my resolve. And then seeing her with another guy tonight nearly wrecked me.

I’m buzzing with so much adrenaline from the win, from the club, that when we get up to her dorm room, and she opens the door, I push her in and slam the door. Her eyes widen as I approach her and with one arm, I scoop her up and deposit her on her bed.

“Silas,” she says, breathless.

I remove her shoes and socks, then grab her leggings and peel them off her body until she’s only in her top and red lace thong.

Her hands fall to her face and she says, “Please don’t be teasing me.”

I move over her and force her to look at me. “Do you remember when we made our contract?”

“If you stop this because of the whorehouse—”

“Do you remember the contract?” I ask, my patience wearing thin.

“Yes,” she says.

“Do you remember the extra condition you gave me? You owe me a favor.”

“Yes, I remember,” she says, her breathing becoming heavy.

“I know what I want my favor to be,” I say as I pull her up and then rest my hands on her shirt. I slip my fingers underneath and pull it up and over her head, revealing her matching lace strapless bra.

“Wh-What is it?” she asks.

I reach around her back and replace the clasp of her bra. With one flick of my fingers, I undo it and watch as the fabric falls to her lap.

And fuck me . . .

Her tits are so fucking sexy. Round, tight, with dark nipples pebbled from the air, they’re aching for my touch, for my mouth.

I push her back down on the mattress, and as I thread my fingers into her thong and start to tug it down, I say, “I want you to allow me to fuck you with my tongue tonight.”

“Is that even a question you need to ask?” Her chest heaves as I lower her thong down her legs and all the way off.

I stare down at her, completely naked for me, and I realize there is no way I’ll have any self-control. She’s easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever been with. With round, high tits, a narrow waist, and a bare pussy, she’s making me sweat just looking at her.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I slide my hands up her thighs and run my thumbs over her pussy. “You’re so hot, Ollie.”

Her legs spread, and she opens for me while her hands fall to her breasts. “Please don’t play with me, Silas.” Her head twists to the side. “I’ve wanted you to make me come for so long. I need it tonight. Please.”

Seeing her desperation match the desperation I feel inside makes me feel even more connected to her. I like knowing I haven’t been the only one suffering.

I remove my jacket and toss it to the side and then untuck my shirt and unbutton it. The entire time, I watch her play with her nipples and move her pelvis, seeking attention. Just watching her has my cock straining in my pants. I leave my shirt open and bend down. Placing both my hands on her inner thighs, I spread her even wider, causing her to gasp.

I make eye contact with her as I lower my mouth, and right before I stick my tongue out, I take a deep breath.

Her eyes widen right before I press my mouth to her slick pussy.

“Oh fuck,” she groans as her pelvis pushes up, seeking more.

Hands still on her thighs, I take long, languid strokes with my tongue. She squirms beneath me as I lap away at her, never fully pushing all the way in against her clit, just staying around the outside, prepping her for what’s to come. If this is her response already, I can’t wait to see what else she does.

I lift only slightly and say, “Hold your thighs for me.”

She lets go of her breasts and grabs her thighs, keeping them spread for me. Instead of going back to her pussy, I trail kisses up her tight stomach to just below her breasts.

“Suck them, Silas. Please . . . please suck them.”

“That wasn’t part of the agreement,” I say as I drag my tongue between her breasts.

“Please,” she begs, the sound so desperate that I give in and press tiny kisses along her breasts, but once I reach her nipple and see how hard it is, I lose another level of self-control. I cup her breast in my hand, squeezing it hard as I suck her nipple between my lips.

Together, we moan.

I don’t know how long I’ve wanted to play with her tits, but Jesus Christ, they’re better than I imagined. Soft, velvety, and bigger than I expected. Fuck, I could spend hours playing with them.

I nibble across her tit, making sure to leave my mark before I work my way to the other one. Her pelvis lifts toward me, feeling out my hard cock, and I allow it because what little pressure she’s able to obtain keeps me satiated as I play with her breasts.

Sucking.

Nipping.

Licking.

Squeezing.

“I love your tits, Oliana,” I say, my voice ragged from how turned on I am. “But I think I might love your pussy more.” I kiss my way back down her stomach, past her pubic bone, and right above her pussy. With two fingers, I spread her wide, exposing her clit, and then lower my tongue to just above it.

And I hover, letting her feel my heavy breath and the scruff of my jaw against her inner thigh.

“Silas,” she moans. “Please.”

I love how vocal she is. I love that she doesn’t shy away from what she wants but simply asks. It’s so sexy.

With my hand that’s not spreading her, I move it back up her body, and just as I pinch her left nipple between my fingers, I press my tongue against her clit.

“Oh my . . . fuck,” she says, her eyes squeezing tight.

From her delicious response, I do it again.

And again.

And again.

“More,” she begs. “I need more.”

I press my tongue against her slit and lightly flick at it, creating a vibration against the nub that causes her to release her legs and grip my head, her fingers digging into my scalp.

“Fuck, Silas. Oh my God . . . keep . . . going.”

I keep my eyes on her, watch her reaction as I continue the relentless pace, and as I see her body grow tighter and tighter and her breathing pick up, I know she’s getting close, so I lift, releasing her.

“No,” she cries and sits up on her elbows. “Silas, don’t do this to me.”

I reach out and cup her face. “Baby, where’s your vibrator?”

“In . . . in my nightstand,” she says, her eyes wild with anticipation.

I reach into her nightstand and replace a purple vibrator. I switch it on to make sure it works, and then I say, “Hold your legs again.”

She does as she’s told, and I run the dildo along her slit, letting her arousal lube it up before I slip it inside her. She groans and tightens when I turn it on. I let the subtle buzz work her back up. Her eyes stay fixed on me, traveling down my chest to my abs, and right to my pants where my hard-on is pressing urgently against my suit pants. She wets her lips, and I know what she wants after this, but she won’t be getting it.

No, just this.

Only this.

“How close are you?” I ask.

“Very,” she squeaks out.

“Good,” I say right before I lower my mouth to her pussy again and press my tongue against her clit, flicking short, tight strokes once more. Her moans grow louder. Her body tenses. Her breath seizes, and her mouth falls open as a guttural moan spills past her lips.

“Fuck . . . fuck,” she says as her body convulses, and she comes.

It’s the sexiest thing, seeing how I can control her, how I can make her feel the most euphoric feeling anyone can ever experience. Her response was unlike anything Sarah ever gave me, and it’s made me feel . . . powerful. It also confirms that Sarah and I were so incredibly incompatible. But not this woman in front of me. We couldn’t be more sexually compatible.

I slowly pull away and turn off the vibrator, letting her catch her breath on the bed. I remove my shirt and then tug on her arm to lift her up. Her worn-out body allows me to put the shirt on, and then I kneel in front of her and button a few of the middle buttons before laying her back down on the bed. I hover over her and lean down to kiss her forehead.

“Happy Birthday, Ollie.”

With that, I grab my suit jacket, and without turning around, I head out of the door, praying no one sees me exit her dorm with a massive fucking erection. I’ll be dreaming about her all fucking night when I pleasure myself and deep into my dreams.

OLLIE: I can’t believe I’m waking up alone.

Silas: If I had stayed, I would have had my dick halfway down your throat.

Ollie: A birthday present I would have gladly accepted.

Silas: A present I wasn’t willing to give.

Ollie: So was last night all you were willing to give?

Silas: Come outside and replace out.

I set my phone down and lean my head against the headrest of my car as I stare out the window, watching a couple of college kids stumble out of an Uber and make the walk of shame toward the building.

I’m still trying to comprehend how I let myself snap last night. Do I regret it? Fuck no. Everything about Ollie turns me on—from her mind to her body to her moans to her fucking mouth. I’m addicted. It’s why I’m here, this morning, needing to see her before I head off to the weight room.

It takes her a few moments, but when I see movement from the building door and I look over, I nearly swallow my tongue as she comes walking out in the shirt I put her in last night, the front tucked into a pair of joggers. She’s pulled her hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head, and from the way her breasts sway against my shirt, she’s not wearing a bra.

I open the door for her from inside my car, and when she hops in, she moves in close to me, places her hand behind my neck, and pulls my lips to hers. I was not expecting her to kiss me, but fuck me, I can’t stop it.

I let her explore my mouth. Her lips are so soft as they float against mine. Her tongue is curious as it dives against mine. Her forceful grip on my neck keeps me in place. I sink into the kiss longer, matching every stroke of her tongue with mine. She leans in closer, one of her hands falling to my chest, then down to my stomach . . . then . . .

I pull away, breaking the kiss, and gasp for air as her devilish eyes smile at me.

“That’s how I should have been greeted this morning,” she says. “Maybe with another orgasm.” She grips my hand and holds it as she faces me. “Why did you leave?”

“I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I couldn’t . . . fuck, you cracked me at the club, and I needed to . . .” I bite the side of my cheek. “Shit, I needed to make my mark.”

“You did. My inner thighs are red.”

“Really?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay. I really wish you’d stayed, Silas.”

“You know why I didn’t.”

She rolls her eyes. “Back to this again? God, you’re driving me crazy.”

“I’m not trying to,” I say.

“So what . . . you just decided to eat me out last night, and that’s it? Back to just seeing each other at important events?”

“Ollie, you know I can’t offer more right now.”

“No, I don’t know,” she says, her annoyance evident in her voice. “It’s so frustrating. And you know what, Silas? I can’t wait around forever. If you don’t want to be with me, then—”

“I have something for you,” I say, quickly cutting her off so she doesn’t have a chance to finish that sentence, a sentence I don’t want to hear.

“What?” she asks.

“I’ve got a present for you.”

Confused, she says, “I thought last night was my present.”

“I got you something else.” I reach into the center console and pull out a flat jewelry box. “Here.” I hand it to her.

“Silas,” she says softly as she takes it. “You really did get me something.” When her eyes flash to mine, she asks, “Why?”

“Because you mean something to me. Even if I frustrate you and you don’t understand me sometimes, you matter to me. And you’ve made a difference in my life. I want you to know that.”

She lets out a sigh and leans her head against the window. “Dammit, Silas.”

“What?” I ask.

She softly shakes her head. “I’m ready to freaking scream at you, and then you do something like this. You do something kind. Just like yesterday, I’m ready to scream at you for pulling me out of the club, and then you go and give me the best orgasm of my life.” Her eyes connect with mine. “Best orgasm . . . of my life.”

I wet my lips, my body humming from the compliment.

“Can’t you make up your mind on what you want? I feel like I’m being strung along,” she continues, her voice now more sad than angry. And that makes me feel like shit.

“We made an arrangement, Ollie,” I say softly. “I’m fucking terrified of what will happen if we don’t follow that agreement.”

Because I like you.

Because I can get lost in you.

And because I don’t know what I would do if you hurt me.

“We aren’t following the agreement, Silas. We haven’t been. And meanwhile, you’re hurting me in the process because you know how I feel about you. You know I want you, and you give me hope with experiences like last night. And the worst part is, I know how you feel about me. You want me. I can see it in your eyes. But if I’m off base here, I need you to tell me that’s not the case.” Her eyes lift to mine. “Tell me right now.” I can’t. I can’t tell her I don’t want her because that would be a huge lie, one that she would see right through. So when I don’t say anything, she continues, “See, you can’t even say it. So if we both want each other, why are we not together?”

“It’s complicated, Ollie.” I rub my hand against my forehead. “I told you that.”

“Yeah, you did,” she says with a sigh as she hangs her head low.

Fuck.

I hate making her feel like this.

I hate that dejected look on her face.

I wish I could be more for her.

Shoulders slumped, she carefully opens the jewelry box, revealing two gold necklaces, each with a thin gold bar as the pendant.

Trying to move past her disappointment in me, I say, “This is called a high-low necklace. It represents the highs in your life, your accomplishments, your joy, and the lows in your life, the moments you’ve struggled or felt like the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. I figured with moving forward in your career, you might need a reminder of the journey you’re on to accomplish the goals truly important to you.”

Her finger runs over the thin chain before she glances up at me. The anger is gone, and a hint of sadness is left over, but there’s also gratefulness. “Silas, this is incredibly thoughtful.” She hands it to me, and I panic for a second before she says, “Will you put it on me?”

“Of course,” I answer. While I take the necklaces out, she leans closer to me. When our eyes meet, I feel this instinctual urge to kiss her again, to claim her. To let her take me up to her room and strip down where I would spend the day in bed with her.

Getting lost in her would probably result in one of the best days I’ve had in a very long time.

Instead, I slip the necklaces on and watch as she gently touches them. “I love it. Thank you.”

Then she tilts her head to the side, studying me briefly before she pinches my chin with her forefinger and thumb, brings me in close, and then delivers a gentle yet enticing kiss on my lips.

“You’re welcome,” I say when she pulls away, my lips wanting so much more.

“I’m assuming you’re leaving,” she says.

“Yeah. I have to hit up the weight room today and review some film. Game tomorrow.”

“Will you be home later?” she asks. “I want to get a workout in.”

“Yeah, probably. I’ll leave you alone, though.”

“Please don’t.” She hops out of the car and turns to face me. Standing there, in my shirt and my necklace, I feel my heart beat wildly as I see just how I’ve claimed her. And I know, if I took off those pants of hers, I’d see where else I claimed her. “Hopefully, see you later.” She shuts the door and walks away, my eyes glued on her ass.

I grip the steering wheel tightly, remaining frozen in place. You will not chase after her.

You will not fucking chase after her.

“YOU DID A LOT OF GRUNTING,” Posey says as we sit in our lockers, fresh from a shower after spending an hour lifting weights.

“So,” I say, knowing he’s right. I did a lot of grunting because I was fucking frustrated. I’m sexually frustrated, and the entire time I was lifting weights, all I could think about was how great Ollie’s pussy tasted and how I wanted so much more.

“Last time you grunted that much, something was bothering you. So . . . is something bothering you?”

“No,” I answer as I lean against my locker, not having the energy to get dressed.

“Something tells me you’re lying. Did something happen with you and Ollie last night?”

“Yeah,” I answer, just absolutely exhausted to do the runaround on this conversation. “I licked her pussy.”

“Uh . . . is that a bad thing?” Posey asks, sounding confused.

Mentally worn out, I realize that I need someone to talk to about the real reason Ollie and I are together—someone to work through this—so I turn toward him and say, “Yes, because we’ve been pretending to date each other, and last night, I lost control and ate her out.”

“Uh . . .” He blinks a few times. “What?”

“We aren’t really a couple. We’ve been faking it. But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Dude, come on. You know I hate fucking secrets, and what do you mean you’ve been faking it? Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to hear it from you guys, constantly babying me with Sarah around, and I wanted to keep Sarah at arm’s length. Ollie needed some help too, so we formed an agreement.”

“Well . . . shit,” he says. “I really thought you two were together.”

“We’re not.” Fuck, it feels good to get that off my chest.

“But from the sound of it, you want to be.”

I shake my head. “No, I mean, yes, I want her. Fucking bad. But I don’t think I’m ready. I’m still carrying baggage from Sarah, and we just started the season. I don’t think it’s good timing.”

“Well, as much as I would like to be helpful, I really don’t think I’m the one to talk to. I’m not good with secrets, and if you tell me any more than you already have, I know I’ll end up blabbing. So best we keep this at what it is, an unfortunate slip of the tongue.”

Just then, my phone beeps, and I glance at the screen to see it’s from Ollie.

I swipe at my screen to read it.

Ollie: I just fingered myself to images of you last night.

“Fucking hell,” I say as I drag my hand over my face.

“What?” Posey asks. I flash the screen at him, and I watch as his mouth falls. “Jesus fuck.”

“See what I’m dealing with? You have to help me.”

Posey shakes his head. “No, I won’t get wrapped up in everyone’s issues. I’m one man. I can’t handle it all.”

“What else are you handling?”

“Well, I just got done nursing Pacey and Hornsby back to a solid, healthy relationship with their girls. I’m working on Holmes and making sure he doesn’t jump off a cliff from his unrequited love. I can’t fucking take you and the mess you’re in as well.”

“Too bad,” I say. “I need advice. What the fuck do I do?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? Do you see me with a girl? This is really a question for Hornsby or Pacey.”

“Neither of them are here. You’re here, so help me. This is how she always is, trying to get me fucking turned on so I crack.”

“So then just tell her no.”

“I have,” I say. “She’s adamant. And for some reason, I keep falling further and further into her trap. I’m going to fully break. I can feel it.”

“Then break.” Posey throws his hands up in the air.

“I told you . . . I can’t.”

“Then I don’t know. Tell her that you hope she had a pleasurable time.”

“That’s shit advice.”

“Told you I wasn’t cut out for this.”

Grumbling under my breath, I text her back while Posey slowly leans toward me, trying to see what I’m typing.

“What, uh . . . what are you saying back?” he asks.

“What you told me to say. Hope she had a pleasurable time.”

“Noooo,” Posey practically yells as my finger hits send. “Don’t say that.”

“I already did. It’s sent. What the fuck, man?”

“What are you what the fucking me for?” he asks. “You said that’s shit advice. Why did you use it?”

“Because I’m losing my goddamn mind!”

**OLLIE**

“YOU KNOW, I really don’t want to be a part of this,” Ross says as he spins in my desk chair with a huge smile on his face.

Things went really well for Ross last night.

Really well . . .

“I sat here and listened to you give me a detailed description of how you sucked Ian Rivers off at his place. And you know that was shitty because of how much I’ve wanted Silas to let me do that.”

“I know, but did you have to say you fingered yourself?”

“Yes, I have to get his attention. Telling him I fingered myself is getting his attention.”

My phone beeps with a response, and with a sarcastic smile, I say, “See, got his attention.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, now you’re interested.”

“Obviously, you have me invested. Just tell me.”

“Bet you he says something like . . . I wish I could taste your fingers.”

“Oh, that’s hot.”

“That’s because Silas is hot,” I say as I swipe to see the text message. Clearing my throat, I read it out loud. “Hope it was a pleasurable . . . time. What?”

“That’s what he said?” Ross winces. “Ooof, that’s brutal. It’s like your crazy uncle accidentally received the text, and instead of making you feel bad, he tried to help a girl out.”

I study the text, confused. “I really expected him to say more.”

“Maybe you scared him away with the fingering.”

I give Ross a death stare. “I did not scare him away. Maybe he just needs a touch more pushing.” I crack my fingers and say, “Watch a master at work.”

**SILAS**

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT,” Posey says while slipping his briefs on under his towel. “I told you I didn’t want to be a part of this. I’ve expended all my helpfulness to Hornsby. That took it out of me.”

“That was months ago. Don’t you recharge?”

“I’m not a fucking battery.”

My phone beeps, and before I can even consider looking at the text, Posey swipes it out of my hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Stealing this nightmare from you so you don’t embarrass yourself even more.” He opens the text and then grips the side of his locker while coughing.

“What? What did she say?”

“Holy shit.” He looks up at me and points the screen at me to read.

Ollie: It would have been more pleasurable if you were here to lick my arousal off my fingers. I just had to do it for you.

Fuck . . .

“Dude . . .” Posey is speechless, and that’s saying something. “What the hell did you get yourself into?”

“I fucking told you. She’s torturing me.”

“You need a good response.”

“I fucking know.” I try to take the phone back, but Posey keeps it.

“I’ll type it out, you nimrod. We don’t need any mistakes this time.”

“What are you going to say?”

“Uh, what we’re both thinking.” Going to the emoji, he double-taps on the eggplant emoji, and before I can stop him, he sends it.

“Dude!” I snag the phone away. “Two eggplant emoji? She’s trying to dirty talk, and you give her two eggplant emoji?”

“That is dirty talking. She got two penises to rise at the same time.”

I give him a stern look. “Don’t fucking bone out over my girl.”

“Ha.” He points at me. “You said my girl.”

“Urggh, I fucking hate you right now.”

**OLLIE**

DING.

“I don’t want to know what he says. I’m still shook that you said you would taste your own fingers.” Ross leans forward. “Who the hell says that?”

“Me, that’s who,” I say as I swipe open his response. When two eggplant emoji pop up, I groan out loud.

“Was that a sexual groan or an irritated groan? I honestly can’t tell at this point.”

“Irritated.” I show him Silas’s response.

“Eggplant emoji? What is he, freaking sixteen? That boy has no class.”

“He has class,” I say as I clutch the necklace he gave me today. “I just think . . . maybe he’s trying to hold back or something.”

“Frankly, I’m embarrassed for him. What’s he going to do next? Text water droplets.”

Ding.

We both look at each other. “If that’s water droplets, I’m going to kick a wall,” I say.

Together, we look down at the screen to replace two eggplants . . . and two water droplets.

“Dear God,” Ross whispers.

**SILAS**

“YOU FUCKING MORON!” I say while whacking Posey with his own towel.

“What? Water droplets are in.”

“They’re not in,” I say defeatedly as I toss his towel to the floor. “Jesus fuck, what have you done?”

“Spared you the humiliation of saying something stupid.”

“Spared me?” I guffaw. “You made this worse.”

“How so? In a subtle way, I told her you were turned on. Can’t get any better than that. Trust me, it works.”

“Yeah, where’s your proof? I don’t see you walking around with a girlfriend.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me for help. If you didn’t think I was qualified, you never should have confided in me.”

“Obviously,” I reply as my phone dings. Posey reaches for it, but I swat his hand away. “Get the fuck away.”

I turn my back toward him and open the text.

It’s a picture of Ollie, showing off her cleavage, the necklaces I gave her on full display. I wet my lips as I stare at it for a few seconds, taking in every last bit of her from her full lips to her gorgeous eyes to her ample tits that I got to suck on last night . . .

My phone is ripped from my hands, and Posey is staring at the photo. “Holy shit,” he says.

“Give me that.”

“No way, you’re going to fuck this up.” He takes off toward the middle of the locker room in his briefs. I grip my towel and chase after him.

“I’m going to fuck it up? You’re the one who’s been fucking it up this whole time.”

“Uh . . . pretty sure I’m the one who got you this picture with my expert texting. By the way, you’re welcome.”

“She feels bad for me,” I say as I chase him around.

“Nah, she’s turned on by your eggplants and droplets. Told you I know what I’m doing.”

“You know shit.” I leap over a chair, but he dodges me and runs to the other side of the locker room.

“Watch daddy work his magic.” Posey starts typing away as he’s moving about the room.

“Do not fucking text her.”

“Oh, I’m texting her. Next pic she sends will be a nude.”

“Give me my goddamn phone,” I say as I pick up a water bottle and chuck it at him, hitting him directly in the hand and knocking the phone to the floor and across the room.

We glance at each other, and in slow motion, we move through the locker room and both dive for the phone at the same time, clashing against each other. My towel loosens, his legs tangle with mine, and we grapple on the floor, army crawling toward the phone until we both reach it at the same time.

That’s when I see what he texted her back.

Silas: Oye, my dick.

What in the actual fuck?

“Oye, my dick?” I scream. “That’s what you fucking wrote? Oye, my dick? What the hell is wrong with you, Levi?”

He pauses, a pinch to his brow. After a second, he says, “I’ll admit, that wasn’t my best work. You can blame yourself. The pressure of running around the locker room hindered my ability to be clever and sexy.”

Just then, the locker room door opens, and Hornsby walks in, only to stop dead in his tracks when he sees me and Posey tangled up together.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Hornsby finally asks, “Why is your dick on Posey’s knee?”

“Is that what that is?” Posey asks, glancing down. “Dude, congrats on the soft penis. Like a velvet cloud.”

I kick at him. “Get the fuck away from me.”