Chapter 17 – Pretending You Are Mine Novel

“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 isno 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.

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