Page 12 of Your Second Chance
“I haven’t been with anyone,” he said casually.
“Tonight? Boring,” I shot back.
“In two years.”
I blinked. “Twoyears?”
“Yep.” He nodded, tilting his head slightly like it wasn’t a big deal. “Since I started coaching. It’s... messy. The job, I mean. Too many blurred lines. So, I’ve kept things simple—no dating, no flirting, no drama.”
I frowned. “No drama sounds nice, but nothing? That seems... boring.”
He shrugged, his smirk returning. “What can I say? I like to keep my life uncomplicated.”
I was about to let it slide when he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like a secret. “But you...” He let the words hang. “You’re testing every bit of control I’ve got.”
I froze, my breath catching, but he wasn’t done.
“I want to bend you over this table.”
My entire body went rigid, heat flooding through me like a wave as his mouth came right over my ear.
“I want to see your lips swollen and red,” he continued, “from how much you’ve been sucking on me.”
It’s like my lungs forgot how to work, my hand gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
He pulled back enough to let his gaze meet mine, his smirk wicked and devastating. “Too much for a pub?” he asked, his voice laced with mock innocence.
I swallowed hard, my brain scrambling for any coherent response, but nothing came. My cheeks burned, my pulse racing so fast I could feel it in my throat.
Ollie leaned back and lifted his beer to his lips, completely unfazed. “Thought so,” he said with a small chuckle.
I stared at him, my chest heaving, trying and failing to regain control.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, pushing back from the table so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floor.
I had to get out. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t doing this.
I was pregnant. He worked for me. This wasn’t messy—it was a disaster waiting to happen. Hormones, stupid fucking hormones, weren’t listening to logic, but I wasn’t about to let them win.
“I gotta go,” I said abruptly, my voice tight. Without looking at Ollie again, I turned and grabbed Luna by the arm. “Come on.”
“What—?” she started, but I didn’t let her finish.
I tugged her up and out of the chair, and somehow, Clive got swept into my whirlwind escape too.
Ollie called my name as we reached the door, his voice cutting through the noise of the pub, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. My feet carried me forward, single-minded, the three of us stumbling out into the night air.
“What happened?” Luna asked when we were far enough away. She was slightly breathless, her arm still hooked in mine.
I glanced around and realized it was the three of us now. Alone.
I hesitated, then whispered, “He hit on me.”
Clive, drunk and wobbling on his feet, burst into such loud laughter I thought he might actually fall over or piss himself.
“You could use a good dick down.” Luna raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got two bedrooms now—why not put one to use?”
“Stop,” I said sharply. “Please.”
