by Jewel E. Ann
“I’m sure Angie doesn’t want you keeping an eye on me.”
Nipples. Those goddamn nipples of hers. “For fuck’s sake … are you wearing a bra?”
She glanced down at herself. “No. I can’t wear one with this top.”
“Then go change tops and put on a bra.” I was angry that she obviously didn’t glance in the mirror before heading out the door. I was angry that Angie was going to be arriving any minute. And I was angry because my dick was hard as fuck.
“Again … too much parental talk. I don’t need you to dress me.”
“And I don’t need my horny brother seeing your nipples.”
Again, she glanced down at herself.
Oh for Christ’s sake …
“It’s a dark shirt. You can’t see them.”
“I can see their outline … I can see they are erect.” As was I. So. Fucking. Erect.
Reese ran the pads of her finger over them.
“Just … fucking stop …” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I pushed them in.”
“Jesus … you’re a walking wet dream. Just stop touching yourself.”
She watched me adjust myself.
Her nipples popped right back out.
Fuck my life.
“I’m going to kill Rory for leaving you with me.” I took a long stride, grabbed the back of her hair, guided her head to the side, and sucked the skin along her neck so hard I thought it might leave a mark. But I couldn’t kiss her red glossed lips without making a mess of her and me.
“F-Fisher …” She grabbed my biceps, knees wobbling.
My hand shot straight up her shirt and cupped her bare breast as my thumb brushed her taut nipple, eliciting a groan from my own chest.
“Oh my God—gosh …” she stuttered.
I gave her other breast equal attention as she continued to fumble her words. “We … should …”
I turned her so her back pressed to the door, lifting her up and guiding her legs around my waist with one hand while shoving her shirt up with my other hand. I wanted every inch of her body.
“Ah! Oh … oh … god!”
Then … the doorbell rang.
Reese stiffened. I rested my forehead between her breasts, my breaths chasing each other. It was hard to explain my growing obsession with her. Reducing the mind-fuck of emotions that I had into something as simplistic as solving clues to form words and phrases on a grid of white and black-shaded squares seemed ridiculous. But … that’s what did it for me. That was the spark that couldn’t be extinguished.
Reese wasn’t merely a pretty face attached to a hot body—although she had both—she was my own little puzzle to solve.
“Fuck …” I mumbled knowing Angie was on the other side of the door. I eased Reese back onto her feet as she gazed up at me with confusion on her face. More like total shock. “Just a sec,” I said with an edge of frustration.
“I-I’m … going to go put on a bra and a different shirt,” she said just above a whisper.
Biting my lips together, I nodded. Reese squeezed past me and scurried to the basement as I adjusted myself before opening the door.
“Hey, handsome.” Angie stepped inside and lifted onto her toes to give me a kiss.
I turned, offering her my cheek instead of my lips—lips that still tasted like Reese. Angie thought we could always pick up where we left off, no matter how long it had been, no matter how many other people we’d been with during our time apart. And sometimes, that was fine.
Convenient.
Mutually beneficial.
No big deal.
I couldn’t properly terrorize Rory’s Bible-preaching daughter with Angie in town and my family rooting for the great reunion—the great union.
“Hey. You look nice.” I managed a smile and a compliment as I nodded for her to head out to the driveway with me.
“Nice?” She gave me a sly grin. “This red dress used to get a better reaction from you than nice.”
That was before I decided to engage in a little cat and mouse with Reese Capshaw … who saved the day by trekking around the corner of the house just in time so I didn’t have to answer Angie.
“Angie, this is Reese Capshaw. Reese, this is Angie Flynn.”
“So nice to meet you. Cute top.” Angie nodded to Reese’s Life is Good top.
Reese deflated. I could almost hear her mind battling the urge to make a case for her adult woman status, violently rejecting anyone calling her shirt cute. It was cute. And appropriate. And I knew it wouldn’t stop Arnie from being inappropriate with her, but it took my temperature down a few degrees.
“Thanks,” Reese said with a pathetically fake smile that nearly made me snort. “Nice to meet you too.” She hated Angie. Maybe her gospel-filled mind wouldn’t let her say the word “hate,” but I was sure that was what she felt. Maybe if she had managed to greet Angie without balling her fists, it wouldn’t have been so obvious.
“Fisher’s family had so many amazing things to say about you.”
Shut up, Reese. Just shut the fuck up.
The last thing I needed was Angie getting her hopes up, like I was the one saying so many amazing things about her. I wasn’t.
Too late.
Angie turned toward me with that look in her eyes. “Aw … your family is the best. They really feel like my family after all these years.”
With a stiff smile, I gave her a hesitant nod.
“Well, let’s go. You can drive, babe.” Angie tossed me her keys. “I don’t know where we’re going.”
Reese fought the urge to wrinkle her nose; her expression quickly taking on the look of someone who was just given a sour candy.
Yes, I sucked her tits just minutes earlier.
Yes, another woman called me “babe.”
It was life in all its complicated forms. Reese needed to learn to deal with it.
“Are you in college, Reese?” Angie asked before I put the car into Reverse.
“Nope. Just working for Fisher this summer. I’m taking a gap year.”
Angie rested her hand on my upper thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Fisher is the most talented human I have ever met. He’s always been good at everything. Such a natural. But what’s it like to work for him?” Angie’s gushing compliments used to do it for me. Her stroking my ego used to feel about as good as her stroking my dick. Those days were over.
All of her compliments felt like she was trying too hard.
Trying to save something that was dead.
Trying to light a fire in the rain.
I just … didn’t feel it any longer. Things had happened that changed us, and I couldn’t ignore it even if she tried to pretend we were good—pretend that we were the same two young kids who fell in love.
We weren’t.
“Fisher’s an okay boss.” Reese glanced out the window, not giving me her attention in the rearview mirror. That did it for me.
The more Reese jabbed, the more I wanted her. I didn’t want her submissive; I wanted her angry and conflicted. I wanted to feel like a sin to her. That stroked my ego. And it almost felt as good as her stroking my dick, which she had yet to do … but the night was young.
Angie teased the nape of my neck and laughed. “I can see that about you. I bet it’s your intensity. Such a perfectionist, huh, Fish?”
Perfectionist? No.
Sadist might have been a more accurate term.
“Oh, Fisher, you need to visit my mom. She’s asked about you.”
I didn’t want to talk about Angie’s mom, but Reese’s stiff posture seemed to relax with the change of subject, so I engaged in conversation with Angie about her mom the rest of the way to the venue.
Barely getting the vehicle in Park, I glanced over my shoulder only to see Reese halfway out the door. She ran toward the entrance.
“She’s adorable, Fish,” Angie said, playfully nudging my arm as we followed Reese’s trail.
Adorable? Did she want to adopt her? I didn’t
want to adopt her. I had much different plans for her that weren’t “adorable.”
Reese’s friends glanced over her shoulder at me, so Reese turned, giving me a tiny and very fake smile. “Hey, this is my friend Christina and her boyfriend Jamison. Guys, this is my boss, Fisher and …”
There it was, that unavoidable bitter expression again. “Angie,” she managed to say.
“Nice to meet you,” everyone said almost in unison.
“So … where’s your rock star boyfriend?” Christina nudged Reese.
“Fish, you didn’t tell me Arnie and Reese were a thing.” Angie wrapped her arm around my arm and offered me a pouty look.
I hated that pouty look. I hadn’t always hated it, but like most things in broken relationships, what was once endearing became unnerving—nearly unbearable.
“He just met her yesterday and invited her and us to his show. I’m not sure that qualifies as ‘together.’” I shouldered past everyone to pick up the tickets at the box office.
We filed into the dark bar and found a table Arnie reserved for us right by the stage. Reese’s friends cozied up in the same chair while Angie moved her chair so close to mine it was like one big seat. I risked a glance up at Reese and caught her deathly scowl.
We ordered drinks, and Reese got a water. I gave her a disapproving stare when her friend offered to buy her an alcoholic beverage. She needed to keep a clear mind around Arnie.
“I’m good. Really.” She gave Christina a stiff smile.
When the band came onto the stage, the crowd erupted into applause, a few high-pitched screams, and whistles.
“Whoa … you are so getting some of that tonight,” Christina yelled into Reese’s ear, but everyone heard it.
With Angie adequately distracted, I messaged Reese.
Fisher: You are NOT getting any of that tonight.
Reese: Sure thing, BABE! (Eye roll emoji)
I lifted my head and eyed her, but she shifted her attention to the stage. Reese was pissed off about Angie. It wasn’t my fault, and she damn well knew it. She was at my parents’ house when it all went down.
After the final song, Arnie peeled off his sweaty, stinky shirt and tossed it to Reese. I knew his game, and it wasn’t happening. Not with her. He wasn’t the one in charge of looking out for her. I was. Admittedly, I was doing a terrible job, but that was between me and Rory. God … I hoped I could keep my head on straight and not take the cat and mouse game too far.
Arnie nodded for us to head backstage. I gestured for Reese’s friends to go first. As Reese started to follow them, I hooked my finger through the belt loop at the back of her shorts. Then I ducked my head and whispered in her ear, “Tell Arnie to do his own fucking laundry.”
The most spectacular sound vibrated from her chest, up past her lips, as she shook her head, laughing. As much as I enjoyed making her cringe and blush, I loved her smile and her spontaneous laughter so much more. She sucked at pretending, and I could tell that bothered her, but I craved every raw inch of honesty that bled from her—that I could bleed from her.
Releasing her belt loop, we shouldered our way toward security, where Arnie and her friends waited for us.
“You were amazing! I can’t believe Fisher hasn’t been bragging about you.”
I tried not to scowl or show any reaction, but fuck … it stung seeing her so enamored with my brother’s talent. Angie, sensing my disapproval, wrapped her arm around my waist, a subtle attempt to claim something that was no longer hers.
“Thanks, gorgeous.” Arnie grabbed Reese’s hand, pulling her toward the exit.
She’s not mine. She’s not mine. She’s not mine.
But I wanted her beyond any sort of reason.
We followed Arnie and Reese to the restaurant. Just inside the door, Christina expressed her concern over being able to afford such a fancy restaurant.
“I know the owner. And it’s on me. No worries,” Arnie said with a cocky grin.
I was proud of my brother. Really. And on any other day, I was his biggest fan, but not when he was making a play for the woman whose tits had been in my mouth just hours earlier.
No sooner did we get seated at the table, Christina beckoned Reese to the ladies’ room with her, and Angie wasted no time scooting her chair too close to mine. Again.
“Everything fine?” Jamison asked Christina when the ladies returned after a long visit to the ladies’ room.
“Totally. Sorry we took so long. I had to cool Reese down. Her date tonight has her overheating.”
Fuck my life. Why does Rory hate me?
Angie gave me a nudge and grinned like we were witnessing a marriage. Reese eased into her chair, sporting a tiny grin as she glanced in my direction. I was all out of grins to share.
As the night progressed, so did my need to numb the anxiety plucking at my very last nerve while I watched Arnie whisper in Reese’s ear, touch her, smile at her …
There really wasn’t enough alcohol in the restaurant to alleviate the ache. Just because she wasn’t mine, didn’t mean she was his.
“I’ll order a ride,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket as my head spun with the wrong kind of intoxication.
“Good idea, babe.” Angie hung on my arm with her head on my shoulder.
“I can drive,” Reese said, clearing her throat.
“Yes!” Arnie stood, offering his hand. “You can drive them home.” He gestured to me and Angie. “Then you can drive me home. And I’ll get you home in the morning.”
“Fuck no,” I said so quickly everyone paused, eyeing me. “I told Rory I’d watch her. I can’t watch her at your house.”
“Babe.” Angie pinched my fucking cheeks like a mother would do to a child. “I don’t think you can watch anyone except me.”
At one time, I loved Angie. It was real. And I might have let myself believe it would be forever. But all of those feelings fizzled into friendship and nothing more, but she didn’t get the memo, and neither did my family.
“Let’s go. We’ll figure it out,” Reese said, grabbing Arnie’s key fob from his hand.
The vehicle remained eerily quiet on the way to Arnie’s place, where Reese helped him to his door.
He looked like he was begging her for something with his hands pressed together at his chest.
Where he fucking. Kissed. Her.
“What’s Angie’s address?” Reese asked me when she climbed back into the driver’s seat.
“Just go home,” I said.
“It’s no problem. I can take—”
“She’s staying with me tonight, and we’ll get her vehicle tomorrow. Just go.” I wasn’t leaving drunk Angie alone. Friends didn’t do that. And if that pissed off Reese, which it clearly did, that was too bad. I wasn’t exactly in the best mood either.
“Let’s go. Can you walk?” I asked Angie when we arrived home.
“Carry me, babe,” she mumbled.
Lifting her from the back seat and kicking the door shut, I gave Reese the garage code. “Ninety-three-eleven.”
Inside the house, I slowly released Angie. “Can you find your feet?”
She found them, but just barely, as she swayed back and forth down the hallway, stepping out of her heels and her dress while Reese stood behind me.
“Thanks for driving,” I rubbed my eyes and turned.
“I’m going to church in the morning, so someone else will have to get Arnie’s vehicle back to him.”
“Of course.” I headed to the kitchen for a drink of water, feeling parched. By the time I set the glass on the counter, Reese was gone, so I followed her. I had to follow her. “What do you need?” I asked, taking the final steps to the basement.
“There’s a naked woman in your bedroom. Better not keep her waiting,” Reese turned on the light and removed her sandals with her back to me.
“If it’s not you, then I don’t give a fuck who’s naked in my bed.” My hand snaked around her narrow waist, and I pulled her back into my chest.
/> “You’re drunk,” she whispered on a shaky breath as I buried my nose into her hair.
“I’m over the legal limit; I’m not drunk. There’s a difference.”
“Well, babe …” She shoved my arms away and took a few steps away from me. “Why are you not married to that woman upstairs? Your family adores her. I mean adores her. And she obviously thinks the two of you are in some never-ending relationship. Why is that? Are you? Is she your endgame, but for now you’re screwing around with other women until you’re ready to commit? Because you guys are not broken up. She doesn’t just show up out of nowhere and fall back into your bed.”
I gave her a few seconds, out of curtesy. She had it all wrong, but I wasn’t in the mood to set things straight. I had more pressing things that required my attention. “You have the best tits. Not too small, but not too big. And I could suck on your nipples all day. They are nothing short of perfect.”
“You’re drunk.” She crossed her arms over her chest like a flimsy shield. It did great things to said tits.
“No.” I held up two then three fingers. Back to two. I had no clue. I hadn’t been a Scout, but she didn’t know that. “Scout’s honor. In the morning, I will still find your tits to be the best thing I’ve seen or tasted in a very long time. If they were on Yelp, I’d leave a five-star review of them.”
“Stop.” She tried to hide her grin.
“I will not stop. I haven’t even started talking about your legs.” I crept my way toward her, and she retreated.
Cat and mouse.
“Angie is beautiful. I’m not blind. I’m sure her … breasts are Yelp worthy, and her legs are incredibly toned, along with her arms. Her silky hair and skin. And she’s successful. Age appropriate. And she’s naked in your bed. So you might have to explain to me why you’re down here with me.”
Angie. Angie. Angie.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever escape her, or if we were meant to live miserably together forever just because everyone else expected it—because it seemed to make some sort of sense to everyone else except me.