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

by Meghan Quinn

“Why don’t you talk to me?” “Because I don’t talk to anyone,” he says. “No one.” “Silas, please, you can talk⁠—” “No, I can’t,” he says, moving me against the wall again. When his eyes meet mine, I can feel his pain so vividly that my heart actually aches. “I can’t talk to you. I can’t tell you how I’m feeling. I can’t tell you how fucking frustrated I am with you. How irritated I am. How I wish I never met you because then I wouldn’t be in this situation of wanting to fuck you so bad that I actually can’t think when I’m around you. And I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want to be buried between your legs because you’re not right for me. We are not right for each other.” He takes a step back and uses both hands to pull on the back of his neck. “Just move, Ollie. Please. Let me go.” I press my trembling lips together and shake my head. “I want you to stay here.” “I’m not fucking you,” he says. “Then don’t. Just stay with me, sleep in my bed, don’t be alone.” He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the ceiling, and I can see his resolve wavering. I can see him considering the possibility of staying, so I press him more. “Please, Silas. Stay with me.” He blows out a frustrated breath and looks me in the eyes. Pain sears through his pupils as he says, “I’m not talking.” “Then don’t. You can just lie down with me.” He scans me and asks, “Why?” “Because it’s clear you’re hurting.”