Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(2)

Sarah’s eyes remain on mine as she bites her bottom lip and her cheeks flush, a look I haven’t seen from her in I don’t know how long. And for the life of me, I can’t look away as her chest lifts, nipples puckered, skin slick, and her mouth falls open as a low, feral moan slips past her lips. A sound so erotic that I honestly wasn’t sure she could make it.

Her head falls back to the bed, her fingers grip the sheets tightly, and then, to my absolute horror, I watch her come, getting off from another woman while a man in the corner does the same, he groans even louder.

At a complete standstill, unsure of what to fucking do, I stay rooted in place, waiting for this nightmare to end.

“Oh God,” Sarah says as she fondles her breasts, plucking her nipples. “So good,” she mumbles before she finally catches her breath.

So good? Is she fucking kidding me right now?

The naked woman between her legs pulls away and turns toward me. Her fake breasts are way too large for her body. That’s what you notice, Silas? She stands up and then starts fingering herself. With a coy look, she asks, “Do you want to be next?”

“The fuck?” I ask. “No!” I look past the busty redhead and over at Sarah. “What the fuck is going on?”

Hand draped over her face, she closes her legs and then rolls up to a seated position. She’s flush, satisfied, and it makes me so fucking mad. My vision starts to tunnel. She’s my girl, and someone else made her look fucking satisfied. That doesn’t settle well with me. Nor does her hair looking a mess. Or the wild expression in her eyes. Gratification rings clear in her voice as she says, “I needed a good fuck, Silas.”

She needed a good fuck?

That’s her excuse?

“Then why the hell did you not ask me? Your boyfriend?”

I stare Sarah down, looking for an answer, but she doesn’t give me one. The redhead walks up to me seductively and rests her hand on my chest. “You seem tense. Let me fix that for you.”

Keeping still, I speak through my clenched jaw. “I suggest you get the fuck away from me right now.”

“Do not talk to my woman like that,” the man says while standing and stuffing his now flaccid dick in his pants.

“Test me, dude. Seriously, see how far it gets you. I’ve bashed more skulls in my lifetime to even count. You do not want to fuck with me.”

“Maybe I do,” the man says, acting like a stupid fuck. He steps toward me, and without even thinking twice, I cock my arm back. Sarah inserts herself between the man and me before I can hit him.

“Don’t,” she says, her voice stern.

She can’t be serious.

“You’re protecting him?” I ask. In my fucking house? My fucking bedroom? What the hell is happening?

Without answering me, she turns toward the man and woman. “I think you two should leave.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asks. “If you’re in trouble, we can stay.”

“She’s not in fucking trouble,” I yell. “I’m her goddamn boyfriend, and if you don’t leave in the next five minutes, I will physically remove you myself.”

“Go,” Sarah says.

While they pick up and leave, Sarah grabs a robe from the bed and tosses it over her body, covering up the bite marks along her rib cage and breasts. Breasts I’ve spent years worshipping.

Pain, anger, and confusion all lace through my body, putting me through a mental fuckery of a roller coaster as I try to pick one emotion to focus on.

When I hear the elevator doors close, I know which one to run with. Anger. I turn toward her and say, “What the fuck was that?”

Arms crossed defensively, she answers, “I’ve . . . I’ve been feeling neglected. Todd and Nancy have—”

“Todd and Nancy?” I shout.

“Yes, Todd and Nancy.” She secures the tie around her waist. “They’ve made me feel supported, fulfilled, and not so alone.”

White-hot rage shoots up my spine. “Don’t fucking come at me with that. I’ve tried to make you feel . . . fulfilled, but you won’t let me. You push me away, turn me down, you won’t even fucking look at me. I mean, what the hell, Sarah? How long has this been going on?”

“Four months,” she says without even an ounce of apology in her voice.

“Four months?” I ask. “Jesus Christ.” I step away, running my hand through my hair. When I look at her, I don’t see the same person I fell in love with years ago. I see someone jaded, someone manipulative, someone who had no intention of protecting my heart.

After everything we’ve been through, all the ups and downs of trying to make it in hockey, the hardships, the joy, she’s going to act like cheating on me for four months is nothing?

That it’s my fault when I’ve put in the effort?

That I’m the one to blame even though we both agreed that my goal to be a professional hockey player is what we both wanted?

She knew what this life would be like. I didn’t see her complaining when she got her expensive purses and brand-name shoes.

I stare at her, the woman I gave my heart to, and as anger fills me, I say, “Fuck you, Sarah.”

“Excuse me?” she asks, shock registering across her face.

“I said . . . fuck . . . you.”