The Naked Fisherman by Jewel E. Ann

Chapter Sixteen

Fisher: I’m sorry.

Fisher: Are you going to stay mad at me forever?

Fisher: I’ll call my family and tell them it was a lie. That I just wanted to be alone with you.

I rolledmy eyes at the last text. He wasn’t going to tell his Angie-loving family that he wanted to be alone with me.

My phone rang. I didn’t want to answer it, knowing it was him. But when I spared a quick glance at the screen, I realized it wasn’t him. It was Christina, my only friend from public school who kept in touch with me.

“Heyyy!”

“Hey, Reese! What’s up with you? It’s been forever.”

“I know. It has. Where are you? Last I heard you’d moved to South Carolina.”

“We did, but my sister’s getting married in a week, so I’m staying with her to help her survive the chaos.”

“Amelia’s getting married? Wow!”

“Yes. And she’s getting married in Colorado Springs. And I heard you’re in Denver. I’m in Denver for the weekend. We have to get together.”

“Yeah, I’d love that. I have no plans … well …” I thought about Arnie’s concert.

“If you’re going to say you have plans with a guy, that’s cool. My boyfriend’s with me. We should all go out.”

“It’s … um … actually, I was invited to a concert tomorrow night. Local band. I know the lead singer. His brother is my landlord and my boss.”

“Oh … that sounds perfect. Where? When?”

“I’m not sure yet. Can I text you the info in the morning?”

“Absolutely. Gah! I can’t wait to see you!”

“Me too. I’m so glad you called. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Sounds great. Bye.”

I pressed End and groaned because I didn’t have Arnie’s number. I didn’t know the time or location of the concert. After a quick internet search for “Arnie Mann band in Denver,” I found everything I needed and quickly texted Christina before going to bed early and praying the naked fisherman stayed out of my dreams.

The next morning, I dressed and headed out for a walk. Fisher’s truck was gone. It didn’t surprise me. Hailey told me it wasn’t unusual for him to work on Saturdays.

After my walk and breakfast, I grabbed my crossword puzzle sketch pad and sat on the screened-in porch. After an hour or so, the roar of an approaching lawnmower grew louder. I looked up to shirtless Fisher mowing the lawn. He didn’t see me at first. And I liked that. Even if I wasn’t sure I liked him anymore, I liked things about him.

His body.

The concentrated look on his scruffy face when he was focused on a task, especially if it involved tools.

In the middle of me contemplating the things I did like about him, Fisher glanced up and our gazes met. He paused for a moment then continued mowing.

Weed eating.

And he finished the afternoon by pulling weeds on his hands and knees in the landscaping. I slipped inside and filled a tall glass with ice water and took it out to him.

“You should hydrate. You’re pretty sweaty.” I stood beside him and held out the glass.

Fisher lifted onto his knees and sat back on his heels, sweat and dirt covering his naked chest and back. “Thank you.” He pulled off his work gloves and took the glass from me. In one breath, he guzzled the whole thing and sighed while handing it back to me.

“I … uh … I forgive you. I just wasn’t ready to say it last night when you messaged me.”

He wiped his arm over his forehead. “I figured.”

“My friend called me last night. She’s in Denver for the weekend with her boyfriend. Her sister’s getting married in Colorado Springs next weekend. Anyway … she wanted to get together, so I suggested Arnie’s concert. Do you think he can get us two extra seats?”

“I didn’t figure you’d want to go.”

“I didn’t. But I want to see my friend, and she’s really excited about it, so …”

Squinting against the sun, he nodded. “I’m sure Arnie can make it happen.”

“Are you taking … a date?”

Fisher glanced away and shook his head while offering a little chuckle. “You mean, am I taking Angie?”

I nodded, tapping my fingernails on the glass and doing my weird rolling back and forth on my heels thing.

“Arnie invited her. It’s virtually impossible for me to not take her at this point.”

I lifted my shoulders. “It’s fine. I was just asking. Should I uh … drive? Or are we all going together?”

“She messaged me last night. She’ll pick us up at six. I said I needed to verify that you were going, but now that you are … I’ll let her know.”

“You’re not driving?”

He shook his head. “I have a work truck and a motorcycle. You’ve seen all the shit in my truck, and I don’t think all of us can fit on my motorcycle.”

“Yeah. Of course. Well …” I took a few steps backward. “I’ll be ready at six.”

As soon as I stepped into the house, I rifled through my clothes and found nothing … nothing to wear on a date. Or double date … triple date? I didn’t know. But I knew Christina would be dressed in something trendy and on point. I hadn’t met Angie, but I had to anticipate someone from California bringing her own brand of style.

“You suck,” I berated myself … my wardrobe. In the next beat, I was out the door with my purse and car keys.

Buzzing past Fisher, I hopped into the Outback and sped down the street in mad search of something to wear. Just under two hours later, I returned with a new outfit, shoes, and a smaller handbag.

With under an hour to get ready, I shaved everything … and I hadn’t shaved everything ever. Then I slathered lotion on all my shaved areas, dried my hair, curled it, and applied makeup the way my mom used to apply makeup.

Smoky eyes.

A bit of pink high on my cheekbones.

And red lips.

I made a final inspection in the mirror as I stuffed the essentials into my new clutch. My dad had to be turning over in his grave. And God? I could only imagine.

White shorts that barely … just barely covered my backside making my legs look even longer. A floral, sleeveless spaghetti strap top. And nineties inspired platform shoes with straps around my ankles.

After a quick glance at my watch, I made my way up front. There was no car in the driveway aside from Fisher’s truck, so I stood under his covered porch and waited, clutching my purse in both hands.

“She’s running a few minutes late. You can wait inside.”

I turned toward Fisher’s voice.

Well, dang …

He was freshly showered with dark jeans that looked fairly new, gray leather sneakers with thick white soles, and a faded gray tee that molded to his chest and shoulders. His biceps looked twice as big, and the veins in his arms did weird things to me. Veins weren’t supposed to be sexy.

“O-okay …” I gulped.

He eyed my legs for a long moment before meeting my gaze as I walked toward the door. “I have a feeling someone will get beat up or arrested tonight.”

“Why would you say that?” I stopped just inside his front door.

“Because you’re eighteen going on thirty.”

“Don’t talk like a parent, Fisher.”

He shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his sexy arms over his even sexier chest. “Fine. Every guy that sees you is going to get a hard-on. And I promised Rory I’d keep an eye on you.”

“I’m sure Angie doesn’t want you keeping an eye on me.”

He narrowed his eyes at my chest, ignoring my Angie comment. “For fuck’s sake … are you wearing a bra?”

I glanced down. “No. I can’t wear one with this top.”

“Then go change tops and put on a bra.”

“Again … too much parental talk. I don’t need you to dress me.”

“And I don’t need my horny brother seeing your nipples.”

Glancing down again, I shook my head. “It’s a dark shirt. You can’t see them.”

“I can see their outline … I can see they are erect.”

I slowly ran the pads of my fingers over them to push my nipples in so he couldn’t see them anymore.

“Just … fucking stop …” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I pushed them in.”

“Jesus … you’re a walking wet dream. Just stop touching yourself.” He adjusted himself in his jeans.

And just like that, my nipples popped out again. It took him all of two seconds to notice.

“I’m going to kill Rory for leaving you with me.” He took a step forward and grabbed the back of my hair, clenching it in his hand and forcing my head to the side as he sucked and licked my neck.

“F-Fisher …” I clawed his biceps to steady myself. He wasn’t kissing my red lips and smearing my lipstick. I gave him a little credit for that, but he still seemed to be teetering on the verge of control as his other hand slid up the front of my shirt.

I gasped when his rough hand palmed my bare breast. He groaned, his thumb circling my nipple.

“Oh my God—gosh …” I stumbled over using the Lord’s name in vain.

His hand moved to my other breast, giving it the same torturous treatment.

“We … should …” I couldn’t catch my breath to complete a sentence. I thought we should stop, but my words never got that far.

He whipped me around so my back hit the door, releasing my hair before lifting me up, guiding my legs around his waist with one hand while shoving my shirt up to my neck with his other hand.

“Ah! Oh … oh … god!” I lost all ability to censor my words when he covered my breast with his mouth, sucking and biting it relentlessly.

Then … the doorbell rang.

I froze. Fisher rested his forehead between my bared breasts, breathing a little harder than usual. His hands dropped to my legs, but he didn’t unpin me from the door.

“Fuck …”

The doorbell rang again.

He eased me to my feet, my shirt dropping back into place. I gazed up at him in shock. What just happened?

“Just a sec,” he said loud enough for Angie (I assumed) to hear him and stop ringing the doorbell. He seemed … frustrated?

“I-I’m … going to go put on a bra and a different shirt,” I said softly. I needed to change into dry panties as well, but I didn’t think he needed to know that.

Fisher said nothing, but he bit his lips together and nodded slowly. He also didn’t give me much space, so I had to awkwardly squeeze past him, retrieve my clutch from the floor, and run to the basement door.

After I put on a bra and a boring tank top, I ran back up the stairs then paused. I wondered if it would seem weird … me exiting on the main floor? So I made a big production to go around the side of the house.

A woman with curly jet-black hair to her shoulders and a well-defined body turned toward me and smiled. She wasn’t as tall as me, but she had more in all the other departments. If I won the battle a few minutes earlier, I was sure to lose the war with Angie back in town.

“Angie, this is Reese Capshaw. Reese, this is Angie Flynn.”

“So nice to meet you. Cute top.” She nodded to my Life is Good top with a huge sunflower on the front of it.

Cute. I was cute.

She was killing it in a red dress and heels.

Trying to not completely deflate, I rummaged through my emotions for a friendly expression and nailed it to my face. “Thanks. Nice to meet you too. Fisher’s family had so many amazing things to say about you.”

Fisher eyed me from a few feet behind her, eyes a little squinted as if he wasn’t happy with me for saying that.

Angie twisted her body to look at him. “Aw … your family is the best. They really feel like my family after all these years.”

Fisher lifted his eyebrows, lips curled into a reluctant smile as he gave her a nod.

“Well, let’s go. You can drive, babe.” She tossed Fisher her keys. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

Babe …

I slithered into the back seat behind Fisher’s seat as Angie climbed into the passenger’s seat of the white, compact SUV.

“Are you in college, Reese?” Angie asked before we pulled out of the driveway.

Yay … this line of questioning.

“Nope. Just working for Fisher this summer.” I didn’t have the energy to make myself sound any more promising like, “I’m taking a gap year,” which insinuated I’d be starting college, only a year later.

Angie won. Rory would be home in less than a week. There was no need to try.

“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?” She reached over and squeezed his leg, his upper thigh.

I glanced up in the rearview mirror and caught his gaze on me. Totally unreadable.

“Fisher’s an okay boss.” I glanced out my window.

Angie laughed, moving her hand from his leg to the nape of his neck. “I can see that about you. I bet it’s your intensity. Such a perfectionist, huh, Fish?”

He didn’t respond. I felt sure he had some expression to give her, but I didn’t want to see it.

Babe … Fish …

Lucky for me, Angie shifted the conversation to her mom and that gobbled up the rest of the drive to the venue—where I couldn’t get out of the SUV quick enough. Lucky for me, Christina and her boyfriend were waiting at the door. I ran to her, anything to get away from the fated love birds.

“Eek! Reese!” She gave me a huge hug.

“It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so freaking much.” I released her and glanced at the handsome guy with the richest dark brown skin and black hair I had ever seen.

“Reese, this is Jamison. Jamison this is my BFF since … gah … forever. She left me for church school, and I’ve never forgiven her.” Christina winked.

I wondered if she had told Jamison about the fate of my parents and why I was forced to leave her for “church school.”

Sensing someone right at my back, I turned. “Oh …” I gave Fisher a tiny smile, but there was no way I was looking at Angie. “Hey, this is my friend Christina and her boyfriend Jamison. Guys, this is my boss, Fisher and …” What? His girlfriend? “Angie.”

“Nice to meet you,” they all seemed to chime at once.

“So … where’s your rock star boyfriend?” Christina nudged me.

“Fish, you didn’t tell me Arnie and Reese were a thing,” Angie wrapped her arm around Fisher’s arm and gave him a pouty face.

I wanted to vomit.

“He just met her yesterday and invited her and us to his show. I’m not sure that qualifies as ‘together.’” He brushed past us to the box office and claimed our tickets.

“But you can and should tell everyone he’s your boyfriend.” My BFF winked at me while taking Jamison’s hand and following Fisher and Angie into the venue.

It wasn’t a big venue, more of a dive bar with a stage. I was surprised tickets were required at all. But there was a table right by the stage reserved for us.

Christina didn’t even take a seat; she sat on Jamison’s lap while Angie pulled her chair so close to Fisher’s chair she might as well have perched onto his lap. I sat off to the side, by myself.

“Can I get everyone drinks?” the waitress asked.

Angie ordered a martini. Fisher got a beer. Jamison ordered beer too and had to show an ID. Then Christina ordered a glass of wine and sure enough … she had an ID too.

“And for you?” the waitress looked at me.

“Water. Thanks.”

“I can go to the bar in a sec and get you something,” Christina whispered in my ear. “I can’t believe you don’t have a fake ID.”

“I’m good.” I gave her a tight smile. “Really.”

Fisher eyed me every two seconds, and I knew this because my gaze kept drifting to him as well.

Shortly after our drinks were served, the band came onto the stage while the bar erupted into loud clapping, hooting, and even a few screamers behind us.

“Whoa … you are so getting some of that tonight,” Christina said loud enough for Fisher and everyone else to hear. “He’s hot, Reese.”

Jamison poked her in the side and gave her an eye roll. Angie laughed. I shifted my gaze to Arnie, and Christina was right … he was hot under the lights. Tattoos. That wild, blond tipped hair. And a guitar hugging his body.

My phone vibrated, and I pulled it from my handbag.

Fisher: You are NOT getting any of that tonight.

When I glanced up, his head was still bowed to his phone.

Reese: Sure thing, BABE! (eye roll emoji)

He lifted his face from his phone and frowned at me. I turned my attention to the stage.

After the final song, Arnie took off his shirt and tossed it to me. I grinned as the women in the venue went crazy, including Christina, despite her boyfriend right next to her. Arnie nodded for us to make our way backstage.

Christina and Jamison headed through the gated off area along with Angie while Fisher stayed back as if he was simply letting everyone else go first.

Except me.

He slid his finger though the belt loop at the back of my shorts to stop me. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Tell Arnie to do his own fucking laundry.”

I barked a laugh and shook my head, glancing back at him. He grinned and gave me a quick wink, making me want to turn around and throw my arms around him. I wanted to pretend it was just us at the concert, and we were going out with Arnie and some other woman Arnie had invited along with my friends.

That wasn’t the reality.

He let go of my belt loop, and we squeezed through the opening between two security guards, where Arnie and the rest of our group waited for us.

“You were amazing. I can’t believe Fisher hasn’t been bragging about you.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Fisher frown as I gushed to Arnie.

I could also see Angie’s arm slide around Fisher’s waist the way Teagan had once laid claim to him. Would it ever be me doing that? I wondered.

“Thanks, gorgeous.” Arnie took my hand and pulled me toward an exit. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starving.” He seemed high. It had to be a real adrenaline rush playing to a roomful of screaming fans.

“Don’t you need your shirt?”

“Nah. That’s for you. I have another one in my vehicle.”

Making a quick glance backward, I made sure everyone else was following us. Yep. The two couples arm-in-arm. Three happy faces and a grumpy naked fisherman.

I rode with Arnie in his Escalade with the others behind us. He didn’t make me the least bit uncomfortable, which surprised me. We talked about his band and where he’d played, along with his future gigs across the U.S. opening for some bigger bands.

We ended up at a fancy European restaurant, and I felt so underdressed. I would not have, had I left on my nipples top. Even Arnie slipped on a nicer button-down over his white tee.

“Have you been here?” he asked, again taking my hand and leading me toward the entrance as everyone else pulled into parking spaces.

“I have not.”

“You’ll love it. The food is phenomenal. And the atmosphere is even better. Big crystal chandeliers. Checkered floors. It’s a little dark.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “And a little sexy.”

“Sounds … cool,” I squeaked the words because my level of comfort started to decline. Even if I wasn’t with the guy I wanted to be with, I was glad that Arnie and I weren’t alone.

“I don’t know if we can afford this,” Christina joked as we gathered just inside the door. But I didn’t think it was entirely a lie.

“I know the owner. And it’s on me. No worries.” Arnie puffed out his chest and grinned.

I didn’t have to look at Fisher to know his eyes were rolling around in his head at his brother’s need to flaunt.

As soon as we were seated, Christina stood. “Ladies’ room?” She eyed me.

I nodded.

Out of courtesy, we gave Angie a quick questioning glance, but she didn’t even look our way. She was too busy drooling over my guy!

As soon as we slipped into the posh ladies’ room, Christina grabbed my shoulders. “Oh my god. Arnie is so into you. Seriously, what if he makes it really big? You could tour with him. Live the life of a rock star’s girlfriend.”

“I don’t see us being that serious.” I laughed it off.

“Well, everyone sees the way he’s looking at you, so there’s no doubt about what he wants to do with you.” She turned and fixed her hair in the frame-lit mirror.

I didn’t say anything, but I must have had a slight grimace on my face because she glanced up at my reflection and narrowed her eyes. “I know you went to that church school, but … you’ve had sex, right?”

“Well …” I rubbed my lips together, thinking of the right answer.

“Oh my god. Well is not a yes. It’s a no.” She whipped around. “Reese! You’re a virgin?”

If I didn’t have a true grimace before, I definitely did after she yelled that. I surveyed the room, praying we were the only ones in there, and it appeared that we were.

“I’m waiting until I’m married. It’s no big deal.”

“No. If it were no big deal, you’d be all over that rock star out there. I have a boyfriend, but Arnie makes me want to not have one … for just one night.”

“When…” I bit the end of my thumbnail “…when did you have sex for the first time?”

“A week before my seventeenth birthday. Tate Hoover. Remember him?”

“You had sex with Tate Hoover? The kid who rarely talked and played trombone?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “He was nice. And had strong lips from all the trombone playing. Also, his rhythm was perfection.”

I covered my mouth and snorted. “Oh my gosh.”

Christina smirked. “So … you haven’t had sex. What have you done? I know you’ve kissed a guy. Maybe two, yeah?”

I nodded slowly. “And uh … recently I had a date, a couple of dates with someone. Not Arnie. And we did some stuff.”

She lifted a perfectly drawn eyebrow. “Elaborate on stuff.”

My cheeks felt warm just thinking about it. “We kissed … a lot. And I … well …”

“Oh my god, just spill. Did he go down on you?”

I shook my head.

“Did you give him head?”

Another head shake.

“Did he finger you?”

My lips twisted.

She grinned. “So he’s had his hand in your panties?”

I nodded. I liked the yes and no questions best.

“Have you seen his cock?”

Biting my lower lip, I shook my head.

“Touched it?”

Head shake.

“Hand up your shirt?”

Nod.

“Mouth on your breasts?”

Nod.

“Has he made you orgasm?”

Nod.

“Oh … then you’re close. You’re basically going through all the motions. Just do it. I don’t really think you get extra points from God for being a virgin.”

I rolled my eyes. “I disagree.”

“You’ve been brainwashed for three years. Of course you disagree.”

“I haven’t been brainwashed.”

She shot me a look, a look like she didn’t believe me or couldn’t believe I really believed it either.

“How’s your mom? I heard that’s why you’re in Denver.”

“I don’t know. I’ve spent less than three days with her. She’s out in California doing some training. She comes back at the end of the week.”

“So you’ve been living alone?”

“Well, sort of. She rents the basement of Fisher’s house. So I’m in the basement alone, but he lives on the main floor.”

“Living with your sexy boss, huh? Rough life. Too bad he has a girlfriend. And he’s a little old for you.”

I took the chance to mess with my hair in the mirror. “You think ten years older is too old? I mean … I’m just asking because I know people who are married who have ten or more years between them.”

“Yeah. I suppose. I couldn’t imagine dating someone ten years older than me right now. Jamison is four years older, and sometimes I feel like we have to find things in common because he’s just at a different place in his life. Ten years would be even crazier. Speaking of Jamison, we’d better get back out there. You didn’t actually have to pee, right?”

“I’m good.”

“Everything fine?” Jamison asked Christina as we sat back down at the table.

“Totally. Sorry we took so long. I had to cool Reese down. Her date tonight has her overheating.”

Oh no. No. No. NO! Why did she say that?

Arnie lit up, more than a little pleased to hear that. Angie nudged Fisher and grinned like she needed to urge him to be excited to hear that. But Fisher’s stony expression didn’t give that same happy vibe.

And what was I supposed to say? No. I wasn’t attracted to Arnie? That would have been a slap in the face to the guy who got us front row seats and was paying for dinner at an expensive restaurant.

So … with a shy grin, I sat down and didn’t confirm nor deny it.

The alcohol flowed nonstop over the next two hours. The food was ridiculously good. And the company wasn’t bad. Aside from my glass of ice water, I felt like a real adult on a date with the wrong guy.

With every sip of wine, Angie got more handsy with Fisher, and that made me remain idle when Arnie rested his arm on the back of my chair, squeezed my leg playfully, and whispered things in my ear. Some things I couldn’t understand because he’d had too much to drink, but other short phrases included things like “you look so hot tonight” or “I can’t stop staring at you.”

Those little things seemed to feed Fisher’s need to drink more too. By the time Arnie lazily signed for the meal, Jamison and I were the only sober ones at the table. I was glad he was being responsible for my friend.

“I’ll order a ride,” Fisher mumbled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Good idea, babe.” Angie hugged his arm and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I can drive.” I shrugged.

“Yesss …” Arnie stood and held out his hand. “You can drive them home.” He nodded to Fisher and Angie. “Then you can drive me. And I’ll get you home in the morning.” He smiled like it was a genius idea.

“Fuck no …” Fisher spoke up, and I froze. Where was he going with his objection? Would he vomit the truth in his inebriated condition? “I told Rory I’d watch her. I can’t watch her at your house.”

“Babe.” Angie pinched his cheeks. “I don’t think you can watch anyone …” She giggled. “Except me.”

I grabbed Arnie’s key fob from his hand. “Let’s go. We’ll figure it out.”

Just outside of the restaurant, Christina hugged me. “Bye, my bestest friend ever. I hope you get some yum yum tonight.” She giggled.

“Bye.” I shook my head as Jamison rolled his eyes at her drunkenness.

I was able to just click “Home” on Arnie’s navigation since no one was with it enough to give me his address. It took fifteen minutes to get there. I hopped out to make sure he made it to his door okay.

“Stay.” He put his hands into prayer position. “Please.”

“I have to take them home. But I had fun. Thank you so much.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “Goodnight, hot girl.”

Just as I started to laugh, he grabbed my face and kissed me. It was hard, but rather still. Not a lot of movement.

“Goddamn … you taste good.” He opened his door and stumbled inside.

As soon as the door shut, I wiped my mouth and descended the walk to his Escalade. When I climbed into the driver’s seat, I could feel Fisher’s gaze on me from the back seat with Angie draped across his lap sleeping.

“What’s Angie’s address?”

“Just go home,” Fisher said.

“It’s no problem. I can take—”

“She’s staying with me tonight, and we’ll get her vehicle tomorrow. Just go.”

I think I would have preferred an actual kick to my gut than to hear his anger. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, I couldn’t talk past the lump in my throat all the way home.

“Let’s go. Can you walk?” Fisher asked Angie.

“Carry me, babe,” she said in a sleepy voice.

As I shut the driver’s door, he lifted her from the back seat and kicked the door shut, wobbling a bit as if being reminded that he, too, had plenty to drink.

“Ninety-three-eleven is my garage code,” Fisher said.

I typed it in and led the way to open the door to the house, wondering who this woman really was in his life. How did she come and go like they were still together?

Touching him.

Calling him “babe.”

Batting her eyelashes.

I didn’t get it.

“Can you find your feet?” he asked her as he eased her from his arms.

Angie wobbled a bit on her heels before stepping out of them and wobbling a bit more as she made her way down the short hallway to his bedroom. “Don’t make me wait,” she said, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor a few feet from his door.

I lost sight of her as she reached to unhook her bra.

Fisher rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. “Thanks for driving.”

A naked woman awaited him in his bedroom just hours after he sucked my breasts while pinning me to his front door, and “Thanks for driving” was his response?

“I’m going to church in the morning, so someone else will have to get Arnie’s vehicle back to him.” My emotions teetered on the edge of a complete breakdown. I knew Fisher would deal with Arnie and his vehicle, but I felt the need to act as unaffected as possible by what he was likely getting ready to do with his childhood sweetheart. And talking about the Escalade was better than screaming at him because that’s what I really wanted to do.

“Of course.” He moseyed to the kitchen sink to get a glass of water, taking it down just as quickly as he did earlier that day when I brought him water while he was mowing the lawn.

I opened my mouth to say goodnight, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want him to have a good night. So I opened the basement door and just as quickly closed it behind me before the tears released.

Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, the door opened. My fingers made swift moves to wipe my cheeks.

One step.

Two steps.

“What do you need?” I asked.

Three steps.

Four steps.

“There’s a naked woman in your bedroom. Better not keep her waiting.” I turned on the light in the family room and slipped off my sandals, keeping my back to him as I used the back of the sectional to steady myself while balancing on one foot and then the other.

“If it’s not you, then I don’t give a fuck who’s naked in my bed.” He slid his hand around my waist and pulled my back to his chest.

Gripping his arm with my hands, I drew in a slow breath.

Angie was upstairs.

“You’re drunk,” I whispered.

He chuckled, burying his nose in my hair. “I’m over the legal limit; I’m not drunk. There’s a difference.”

“Well, babe …” I peeled his arms away from me and put a few feet between us. “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.”

Twisting his lips, he cocked his head a fraction. I made him think. Really think.

“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.”

Never mind. I didn’t make him think at all. I ignored my blush. He brought it out of me with a look, and when he talked dirty to me, it took over my whole body.

“You’re drunk.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“No.” He grinned holding up two fingers then three. Then back to two. “Scouts 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.” I bit my lips to keep from grinning.

“I will not stop. I haven’t even started talking about your legs.” He took two steps toward me, and I retreated to keep the distance.

“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.”

Fisher deflated, a long breath releasing from his nose as his shoulders dropped an inch. “She wants a husband and a houseful of babies. A dog. Two cats. And a minivan.”

“And you don’t?”

“Not yet.”

“So …” I glanced up at the ceiling and laughed, but it didn’t really feel funny. “You are looking for someone to mess around with until you decide you’re ready for wife material. That’s awesome, Fisher. Rory comes home in a few days. What’s the point? I’m not having sex with you. And why are you so anti-family? You’re twenty-eight. Do you know how many men have a family by the time they’re your age?”

“No.” He prowled toward me again, this time without stopping. “And neither do you. So what’s your point? You’re eighteen. The whole point of your life should be to live in the fucking moment without caring if everything you do makes complete sense.”

“Stop.” I shook my head, running out of space to escape him as my butt rammed into the pool table.

“I don’t want to stop. Do you? Do you really want to stop?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. I didn’t love the taste of beer, but I thought I’d like it if I tasted it in his mouth. So I kissed him, and he kissed me back. I was right … beer tasted best on Fisher’s tongue. Every well-sorted moral thought in my head jumbled, like the wind catching a neatly stacked pile of papers and scattering them everywhere.

No page numbers.

No sense of meaning.

Just a big, unimaginable mess.

That was what Fisher Mann did to me. He messed with my thoughts.

And that was why I didn’t protest when he removed my shirt … and my bra.

I didn’t protest when he unbuttoned my shorts and dropped to his knees in front of me to slide them down my legs, along with my panties. My eyes glossed over with an unfamiliar feeling, like everything he did entered my bloodstream—a drug that robbed any sense of control or objection my brain might have otherwise formulated.

Lifting one leg and then the other, he freed them from my shorts.

“Fisher …” Everything inside of me felt heavy and slow. My dry mouth panted slowly.

Was he going to put his mouth between my legs?

Was I going to stop him if he did?

All these things I didn’t know for sure. Part of me wanted him to stop because I wasn’t sure I had the will power to do it myself. But a bigger part of me indulged the curiosity that seemed to have the greatest power over my decisions in that moment.

What were his plans for us? Sex? Oral sex?

He kissed my hipbone and moved a little lower … and a little lower yet. My heart thundered so loudly in my chest, sending blood whooshing past my ears with such force, I could barely hear him when he did speak.

“Do you want me to kiss you here?” He brushed his lips lightly over that part of me.

“I … I … don’t know.” Harsh breaths rushed past my lips as I rested my hands on the side of the pool table to steady myself.

“No?” He left a tiny kiss there, before navigating up my body, resting his hands on the pool table next to mine while he flicked his tongue over my nipple before standing straight and shrugging off his shirt. “We’ll go until you tell me to stop?”

My lazy gaze worked its way up his body to meet his gaze, and after a few seconds, I nodded. I didn’t really know my limit that night. Sex didn’t feel right, but stopping felt a little wrong and even a little impossible. All I could do was let him continue and hope that I’d find my limit, that stopping point.

Fisher grabbed my face and kissed me, our tongues mingling as my nipples brushed his chest. And I needed more. My fingers teased his abs just above the waist of his jeans, and he moaned into the kiss. Then my brave and completely inexperienced fingers moved lower, tracing the outline of his erection, and his hips thrust forward into my touch as he moaned a little louder … kissed me a little harder … and lifted me onto the edge of the pool table.

It was wrong. I thought. I maybe even knew. But I didn’t want to take responsibility … not yet. The feeling … the drug he became … was too strong.

After rocking his hips into me a couple of times, he moved his mouth to my neck, sucking and biting as he unbuttoned his jeans. Things started to feel … real. Very, very real.

My heart managed to beat even faster. Anticipation soared in my head, making me dizzier.

Stop.

Don’t stop.

Gah!

I was so conflicted—those scattered pieces of paper all over the floor without anyone to pick them up and sort them to make sense again.

Fisher’s hand tangled in my hair as his mouth returned to mine and his erection, covered only by his underwear, wedged between my legs.

The friction.

The wet feeling.

The heat.

I wasn’t ready for sex, or maybe I was. I just didn’t know. And as much as I knew, I really knew we needed to stop, I wasn’t ready to tell him to stop. It wasn’t sex, right? We weren’t having actual sex. As much as I wanted more to happen, without actually having sex, I didn’t know how to articulate it because I wasn’t exactly sure what more meant. I only knew I wanted to at least feel him against me, really against me.

My hand rested on his hip, my fingers teasing his underwear’s waistband. Sliding one finger beneath it, I slowly inched my way to the front. Just before touching him there, putting just enough pressure on the waistband to expose the head of his … cock? Penis? No … Dick?

Fisher stopped kissing me, and with quick breaths escaping past his parted lips, he glanced down at my finger still curled around the waistband. It was my first glimpse at a man’s … head. That head.

“I need to get a condom,” he whispered.

I shook my head slowly. We weren’t having sex. I felt fairly certain of that. I just wanted … well … I wasn’t sure. I wanted to see him and feel him, but not actually have sex. “I want …” I swallowed hard. “I just want to feel you.”

“God … feel me, Reese.” He grabbed my hand and slipped it down the front of his underwear, closing his eyes as his tongue swiped along his lower lip. He released my hand.

It took me a few seconds to move my hand, to gently wrap it around him. He was warm and hard, yet smooth and long. I slid my hand up slowly.

“Fuuuck …” He dropped his chin and opened his eyes again, watching me touch him, his abs tightening even more than seconds earlier.

My gaze flitted between my hand and his gaze, like I wasn’t fully aware that I was the one giving him that pleasure. Me. Not Teagan. Not the woman upstairs in his bed.

Me.

I felt like a queen. A goddess.

The head was even smoother … and wet … and a little sticky.

“Reese …” He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as if in some sort of agony. “Let me get a condom.”

“No. I … I just want to feel you.”

“Fuck …” His mouth landed on my neck and shoulder again, his hand grabbing my breast with a little bit of desperation. “You are feeling me, and it’s killing me.”

“No. I want to feel you …” I pushed down a fraction on his erection, forcing his underwear down a little more and positioning him extremely close to the center of my spread legs. “Here. I want to feel you here, but … just … on the outside.”

“Reese …” He rested his forehead on my shoulder and dropped his hand to the edge of the pool table again as we both focused on my hand bringing him so incredibly close to me. Taking the tiniest of steps closer, the head of it touched me there.

“Stop.” My breath hitched.

The warmth and silkiness felt out of this world.

After hearing him gulp a loud swallow, I rubbed it against me. It felt so good. Everything about him felt good … maybe even right, from his lips at my shoulder to his right hand on my knee, gently pushing it out to spread my legs a little wider.

With micro movements, he dipped his hips forward a fraction of an inch, hitting my clit, then back. Forward again. Back again.

It wasn’t sex.

It wasn’t sex.

It wasn’t sex.

That chant played on an endless loop in my head.

“God …” I closed my eyes and said a quick apology prayer for using the Lord’s name in vain, but I somehow ignored the obvious apology for sitting naked on the edge of Fisher’s pool table while we rubbed his cock along my … area.

His movements sped up a bit, becoming ragged like his breathing.

“Fisher!” I gasped, digging my fingernails into his shoulders as he stilled.

He stilled because the head of it went in the wrong direction. It went in … a fraction. Fisher was inside of me, literally a quarter of an inch, at the very most. But still … he was there. And he could have moved. He could have jumped back. But he didn’t.

I could have moved. I could have scooted back that quarter of an inch. I could have pushed him away. But I didn’t.

“I’m so—” He started to apologize. I thought. I wasn’t sure. Things were a little foggy at that point.

“No. Don’t … move.” I think I meant to say “don’t apologize,” but I didn’t. I had bigger issues than that. I didn’t want him to move toward me at all. But … I also didn’t want him to step back. I liked him there. Too much. And if he would have moved forward and pushed farther inside of me, I know I would have let him, but the regret might have been too much. Yet the thought of him stepping away felt nearly as excruciating.

“Reeeese … I can’t fucking stay here.” His breaths were little staccatos along my cheek as he dragged his lips from my ear to my mouth and bit my lower lip kinda hard.

Because I couldn’t make up my stupid mind, and he was running out of patience, I grabbed it and moved it up to my clit again. That time I didn’t let go. I made sure every time his pelvis rocked forward, it didn’t go inside of me.

But I wanted it to go there. And that was a part of my brain I couldn’t control. I couldn’t pray away those thoughts. I wanted to have sex with Fisher Mann nearly as much as my lungs wanted oxygen.

“Lean back.” He pressed a hand between my breasts.

I couldn’t lean back without letting go of him. And if I let go of him, things were sure to happen.

Fisher saw the concern on my face and shook his head. “I’m not taking your virginity … tonight.” He smirked.

I didn’t trust him. Then again, I didn’t trust myself. So I moved forward with another bad decision. I had a whole stack of them that night, and I leaned back onto my forearms. Fisher rested his hands on my knees and spread my legs wider.

“If you let me put my mouth on you…” his gaze landed between my legs “…I could make you scream.”

Biting my lip, I shook my head at least a half dozen times.

Oral sex.

Nope. It had sex in the name. So I had to pass.

As if God were applauding me at that point for showing restraint.

Fisher leaned forward, rubbing me in the perfect spot with his erection, again and again, as his mouth found my breasts. As the pressure built, I shifted my hips, but not on purpose.

“Fuck!” He stilled again. And again, he was inside of me, a little. A little more actually, but only maybe a half inch this time. “You can’t move like that.” He breathed heavily.

I wanted it.

In that moment, I made the decision to … go to Hell maybe. But I wasn’t going there a virgin. I was going there with the naked fisherman inside of me.

“Fisher …” I rested my heels firmly on the edge of the pool table and lifted my hips a tiny bit.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Stop!” He grabbed my hips and pushed them back down to the pool table. “I don’t have on a condom.”

“Then get one.”

He closed his eye and shook his head. “They’re upstairs.”

With Angie.

“Fisher …” I tried to lift my hips again.

Again, he shook his head and held me down while pulling the head of his erection out of me. Then he used one hand to give me an orgasm while using his other hand to give himself one—the result of it landing on my stomach. That part was sort of weird for me.

“Damnation is in your future, little girl.” He pulled up his underwear and jeans before sauntering to the kitchen to grab some paper towels.

“Then you’re going with me.”

He shook his head. “Only after Rory murders me.”