She sighed as I mapped her skin with my mouth, tipping her head back to grant me greater access. Now that I'd started, I couldn't stop thrusting against her. Couldn't keep myself from nipping and sucking her neck. Couldn't come to the realization this was a terrible idea. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Her grip on my belt tightened and she moaned like I was creating magic and then—
"Good night, Jed."
She slipped out of my arms and away from the kegs, and she marched her fine ass to the door while I stared after her once again.
There was no moving on. Not from this.
Chapter Four
Brooke
Short Selling: the practice of borrowing and selling shares of stock based on expectations of declining value only to then repurchase those shares at a lower price to turn a profit.
"That was not the plan,"I said to myself for the fifth time since leaving the Galley. "Not the planat all."
I stamped my foot on the sidewalk outside my father's house, but it didn't help.Nothinghelped. Wasn't that the story of my life right now? No matter what I did, it wasn't getting better. And if I thought I'd been in rough shape earlier today, my current condition could only be expressed by wailing at the moon.
Shoving my fingers through my hair, I glared at the walkway that led to the door that would take me inside. Back to the place where nothing helped, nothing got better, and nothing ever would. I wasn't ready to go in and face that reality.
"Not yet," I murmured, turning away from the house.
Down the hill sat the village of Talbott's Cove, quiet and dark in the crisp September night. Harbor lights cast a golden glow over the water and surrounding homes and businesses.
There'd been a time when I loved being able to see the entire town and everything happening in it from my father's house. It wasn't until I'd returned home after years away that I realized isolation was the price paid for this vantage point.
I was alone, even with round the clock staff and my father and my best friend never more than a text away. I was so damn lonely and overwhelmed and resentful and—and I didn't want to be any of those things tonight.
I turned back toward the village. And I ran.
As I barreled down the hill toward the village, I didn't allow myself to think this through. If I started thinking now, I'd come up with several strong reasons why I should return home, plug into the Asia-Pacific markets, and forget about the feel of JJ Harniczek's hands on my body. And yet, as my shoes slapped the pavement, I allowed myself a pair of thoughts.
One: Running was awful. Why did anyone do this for sport?
Two: Would JJ be home yet or should I stop at the tavern first?
When I reached the town square, the tavern was dark save for a single light over the door. "All right. Onward," I said to the night air. "The things a girl has to do for some dick."
On days when the dementia wind blew a certain way, my father would sit by the bank of windows facing the village and recount the history of this town as he knew it. He was careful to note the exact years each road was constructed and structures that followed, and the reasons for all of it. JJ lived at the end of a narrow, bungalow-lined street set behind the harbor that was built in the mid-eighteen-hundreds. Better roads were needed around the harbor then, and as the lobstering trade took off more local housing was required.
This was the predominant thought in my head as I run-walked down the sidewalk at twelve thirty in the morning. The approximate age and purpose of this road. I had to mentally box that noise up and hide it in a brain closet when I reached JJ's house because dick and Dad's dementia monologues didn't mix.
I'd nearly caught my breath when I knocked on his door, but the bare chest and scowl he greeted me with stole it all over again.
Goddamn. When did he get all that ink and chest hair and muscle?
He raised his arm, braced it on the doorframe. An octopus wrapped itself around his bicep and over his shoulder, and a little round bird with a long beak lived on his flank. "What the hell do you want?"
I glanced down at his jeans. "Take off your pants."
His brows pinched together. "Come again?"
"I'd love to, but I'm going to need you to drop those jeans first." I ducked under his arm and stepped into his home. "I trust you have a condom or two."
JJ stayed rooted at the threshold while I explored the living room. Dark blue sofa, white walls, hardwood floors. There was art and photos too, but I didn't stop long enough to take them in.
"Two?" he called. "What gave you the idea I want to have sex with you twice? Or even once?"
I wandered into the dining room and circled the table. It was an old, battered, family-style table, and none of the chairs matched. I kind of loved that. A laptop and stack of file folders sat beside a glass of water.
