Page 209 of Right Man, Right Time
He brings his forehead to mine and whispers, “Can I have you back? Please tell me you’re mine again. I can’t fucking sleep. I can’t concentrate. I feel so goddamn sick without you. Please, Ollie, please come back to me.”
The desperation in his voice.
The grip he has on me.
His words.
They’re everything I need and so much more.
“I’m yours, Silas. Always have been, always will be.”
And then his mouth is on mine in a crash of kisses that steals my breath away. His hand smooths up the back of my head, holding me tightly as I grip his cheeks, allowing him to swipe my mouth with his tongue, tempting me to open. And I do. Because I can’t deny this man anything.
I love him.
He’s mine.
And I’m never letting go.
Like that first night, when I walked up to a complete stranger in a bar, I kissed this man as if he were mine. And just like that moment, I claim him. Kissing him like he’s mine, but this time . . . he actually is.
Epilogue
SILAS
“Can I have this drawer?” Ollie asks.
Standing in front of my dresser, wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of her famous crop tops, is my girl, looking so fucking good.
It’s taken a few weeks to work out the logistics, including applying for a work visa, but Ollie is finally back in Vancouver and living with me.
“Baby, you can have any drawer you want,” I say, coming up behind her and bringing her into my chest. I kiss along her neck and add, “Take whatever you want. It’s yours.”
She chuckles and tilts her head to the side, giving me better access. “You can’t possibly be ready to have more sex.”
“I’m always ready,” I say as I slide my hand under her crop top and grip her breast.
“Silas,” she reprimands, turning around. “We need to unpack. I can’t just live with these boxes everywhere.”
“It will get done,” I say, backing her up against the dresser.
“Not when you’re leaving tomorrow for away games.”
“All the more reason to fuck you,” I say, tugging on her shirt.
Laughing, she pushes at my chest. “How about this? You give me an hour of unpacking, and then the rest of the night, I’m yours to do with whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” I ask with a questioning brow.
“Whatever, but you need to put in the effort of unpacking.”
“I can do that,” I say as I slip my hands under her shirt again and play with her nipples.
“Silas,” she says, her head falling back.
“Yes, baby?” I ask, lowering my mouth to her breast, only to be stopped by the palm of her hand.
“No, sir. Unpacking first, then sex.”
