“Aden . . .” She slaps down another envelope in a pile. “Don’t you have something to do, like fix shit and collect rent, ya know? Like you said.”
I get the feeling she’s trying to get rid of me so she can indulge in her freakish need to organize. She’s right, though. I should go fish. I need the money and I’d like to catch something for us to have for dinner tonight. “I’m not leaving you in this place alone. I don’t trust you to leave it trashed.”
A tiny smile tilts her lips, but she doesn’t stop with the stacking. “You’re probably right, but I’ll try.”
“Hey.”
Now I get her eyes, wide and as green as fresh grass.
“I’m serious. I’d insist you stop doing what you’re doing but you look so fucking happy doin’ it I don’t have the heart to make you stop. Get your work done first, okay?”
“I will.”
I grip her chin and lean in to bring her mouth to mine. She tastes like syrup and orange juice. Wanting to consume her, I nip at her full upper lip. “Meet me at the boat tonight at sunset?”
“Okay.”
“Bring an appetite.”
“Yeah . . .” Her voice is breathy and so damn sexy.
I pop open her laptop and point to it. “I’m serious, Cece. Your work first.”
Her shoulders deflate and her eyes drop to my stomach. Shit, I’m fucking this up. I need to walk away before she changes her mind.
“See ya tonight.” I drop one more kiss on her head and force my feet to move, leaving her alone in Cal’s place.
I slide into my truck and fire up the engine, excited about getting out on the ocean and getting some distance between me and the girl who’s quickly consuming my every conscious thought.
Fishing was more successful than I thought it would be. I was only out for an hour before my lines started tugging. One after another, the fish bit. It was after five when I pulled back into the slip. Just enough time to get the fish off to the market, and I was pleased to see they were in desperate need for halibut and albacore, so I made serious coin right off the bat. I had just enough time to clean the blood off the back of the boat, and shower to be ready for when Celia comes over.
I’m wiping down the counters and checking to make sure the white wine I bought from the market is chilled enough when I hear a knock on the back deck. Smiling, I turn . . . then frown when I see Jenkins grinning with his broken smile of missing teeth.
Shit. He’s here for dinner. So much for my date night with Celia.
“You hungry, old man?” I pull a beer out of the fridge and notice Jenkins doesn’t have a bottle in his hand so I grab him one too and meet him out back.
“You bet.” He takes the offered beer and drinks about half in one gulp. “What’re we eating tonight?”
“Halibut.” I drop down to the padded bench and notice the sun is dipping below the line of boats in the marina. “We’re having company tonight.”
“Figured as much.” He takes another long swig.
“How’s that?”
“We’ve missed you at the Office.” His eyes dart to me and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s noticed I’m not hanging off Sydney.
I stare toward the parking lot, pushing back a flicker of guilt. “Been busy.”
“Busy . . . right. Celia’s gorgeous. You’d be stupid not to chase her tail.”
“You must’ve been around her before, what do you know about her?”
“Can’t say I know anything. I heard Cal talk about a Celia, but she never came down to the boat. I never talked to her until this last time.” He turns his foggy eye on me. “Better question is, what do you know about her?”
I shrug and notice my eyes keep drifting to the gate to the dock, anxious to see her again. “She’s smart, funny in a weird way. We have a good time together. She’s leaving in a couple weeks so we decided we’d hang out until she goes.”
He nods thoughtfully and stares out at the horizon.
“Don’t go silent on me now, Jenks. You always got shit to say about everything.”
“Find it interesting you don’t got any friends and far’s I know you don’t date, but you know this girl a few days and she’s your friend and your date.”
Excellent point, I’m kind curious about that shit too. Ever since I was released from the army, most people annoy the crap out of me. Women complain about their favorite shows being canceled or the fact that they had to sit in traffic for thirty minutes on their way to work. Men complain about not getting laid enough or the battery in their latest smartphone dying halfway through the baseball game they were watching.
The petty complaints of people who have never lived for fifteen months in a shitty hut with a couple dozen men, sleeping with their M4s on their chests because at any moment the enemy could open fire on their asses. The average American sits on their cushioned couch with a beer in hand, a hot home-cooked meal in the oven, and bitching to their sixty-inch flat screen about how much the government sucks, about how the country is going to hell in a scrotum sack while me and my men are over there jumping in front of bullets to protect the innocent, fighting the terrorists that have ravaged not only Americans but people all over the world.
They don’t know what it’s like to have to dig through dirt to find all the body parts of a brother who gave his life to save theirs. Collecting fingers and toes and half-legs, matching them up to send back to their wives and children in a fucking box. People bitch about getting their kids into the right schools while over there parents are burying headless children. So yeah, maybe I’m a little fucking intolerant.
“Fuck.” I grip my now empty bottle to my chest feeling that familiar static that’ll lead to anxiety, which will end in paranoia. That’s the shit that fucks me up. Perfect for a date night. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Jenkins nods. I can see he carries what happened in Nam around as clear as if I were staring at my own reflection. “She’s just a woman.”
Yeah, just a woman. She’s not a threat to me. She doesn’t know how fucked up I am and as far as I know she seems to enjoy being with me. Don’t read too much into this, Aden.
Suddenly antsy, I hop up and light the charcoal on the grill, trying to stay busy; it’s the best thing to do to keep my thoughts from taking my body back to Iraq.
The sweat.
Racing pulse.
Delusions.
Stabbing coals, my gaze is drawn back to the gate and this time they’re not met with disappointment.
“She’s here.” I move to the dock and hop off the boat, hearing Jenkins’s garbled chuckle as I make my way to the gate.
She’s wearing cutoff shorts and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back off her face in one of those headband things. Casual, and perfect. I have an overwhelming urge to take her straight to bed and hold her close. What the fuck, Colt! Get it together!
“You made it.” I hit the button on the panel to release the lock and swing open the gate for her.
“You said sunset.” She smiles and I’m gone.
I pull her to me and melt around her tiny body, liking the way her arms wrap around my waist as she fits herself to my chest. I’m grateful to see she has a bag slung over her shoulder. I was worried she might change her mind about staying the night.
I slip the bag from her and release her just enough to throw my arm around and walk her down the dock to the boat. “You’re right on time.”
She tilts her head and looks up at me. “Did you have a successful fishing day?”
“I did. We’re having halibut.” I kiss the top of her head and her hair smells like fucking heaven. “Don’t worry, it’s vegetarian halibut.”
She giggles. “I told you, I eat meat.”
“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere, but I’m staying away from it.”
She slaps my chest. “Oh my God, you’re disgusting.”
“I’m a man, freckles. You say ‘eat meat,’ my head goes to the best possible translation. Don’t blame
me, blame my DNA.”
I straddle the boat and dock and lend her a hand, making sure she gets on board okay. She struggles a little, but seems a lot more confident this time around.
“Jenkins, you remember Celia.”
“I do, I’d stand to say hello but my knees are killin’ me today, honey.”
She smiles warmly at the old man. “No need. I’ll just come to you.” She leans in and wraps the crusty pirate in a hug.
His hand hovers over her ass and he waggles his eyebrows at me. “Sure wish I hadn’t wasted all those erections in my youth.”
“Jenks.” Dirty old man.
“Oh wow.” Celia pats him with a closed fist and pulls away. “Thank you . . . I think?”
“Don’t mind him.” I glare at the fucker as he coughs and laughs at his own joke. “Grab a seat. You like white wine?”
“Sure, sounds good.”
With one more warning look at Jenkins to behave I head back and toss her bag on my bed, then pour her a glass of wine while grabbing me and Jenkins another beer. Moving through the cabin back out to the deck my gaze snags on the purple bag on my bed. It’s surreal to think there will be a woman in my bed all night, not just for as long as it takes to get off. This isn’t some drunken hookup. It actually feels like we’re building something here.
Whatever it is will end in friendship. And why the fuck does that bother me?
Not wanting to ruin the night with overthinking, I head outside and I’m hit by the throaty sound of Celia laughing. I hand her the glass of wine. “What did I miss?”
“Nuthin’.” Jenkins smiles into his fresh beer.
I lift a brow at Celia, who’s now snorting back her laughter.
“Jenkins told me a story about you waking up on some strange boat off the coast of Mexico surrounded by a bunch of half-naked men?”
I tilt my head and stare the mouthy bastard down. “Did he?”
He grins, flashing his three front teeth. “I may have.”
“Is it true?”
Fuckin’ prick. “It’s true.”
Celia leans back grinning. “Oh, I have to hear this.”
I shake my head, wanting to shot-put my elderly neighbor into the open sea. “I took the boat down to Ensenada, drank too much at the bar, got back on my boat to sleep it off, but didn’t realize I was on the wrong fuckin’ boat.”
“He was on the Weenie Yankin’ Yacht.”
Celia bursts into laughter and Jenkins follows.
“No, I was not. It was a bachelor party or some shit. The boat must’ve come untied because when I woke up we were a good hundred yards from land. I could see the dock so I jumped off and swam back to find my boat.”
“You swam?”
“Yes, and what’s worse is I was hung over as hell.”
Her smile falls and her pale eyebrows pinch together. “That’s dangerous.”
“Eh . . . I lived.”
“But sharks—”
“I was on a two-day bender. Pretty sure the smell of booze coming from my body repelled any living thing within a five-yard radius.”
Jenkins cackles. “Except the weenie yankers.”
“Laugh it up, old man. Maybe we should tell her about the time you got pick-pocketed for seven hundred bucks by a transvestite prostitute the last time we were in Mexico together, huh? Talk about weenie yanking, that girl had her hands in all your pockets.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining. Best hand job I ever had.”
Now we’re all laughing.
“Worth every dollar he took.”
SAWYER
“I’d be happy to walk you back to your boat, if that’s okay with you?” I’m helping Jenkins off Aden’s boat after an amazing dinner and even better conversation.
He leans his frail body against me, his hand around my back and resting curiously close to my ass. “Oh yeah, I could use a little help, honey.”
Aden makes a sound of disgust and he shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“Which one is yours?”
He smells like stale beer, sweat, and dead fish. Each smell separately would turn my stomach but when combined, if the smell had a face, it would be Captain Jack Sparrow. Limping at my side I have to wonder if he’s doing that for my benefit or because his knees are bothering him. A loud thump sounds behind me and I don’t have to look to know that Aden is following us.
“Right here.” He motions to an old sailboat with chipped paint and a rusty anchor. “I could use your help gettin’ to bed, gettin’ my pants off and—”
“Drawing the line there, old man.” There’s humor in Aden’s voice.
“Fine.” He leans in to my ear. “I had to try.” His wheezing laughter makes me laugh and Aden groan.
He pushes off from me and boards his boat without the slightest struggle and it’s then I know for sure I’d been had.
Aden’s arm comes over my shoulder and I melt into his side. “Good night, you old fart!”
“Yeah . . . you too, you lucky son of a bitch,” Jenkins mumbles, making Aden chuckle.
“Sorry about that.” He swings me around to head back to his boat.
“He’s pretty funny. I can’t believe he’s sailed around Mexico.”
He does what he did earlier, straddling the gap of water between the dock and his boat to help me on board. “Yeah, he’s been around for awhile.”
I grab a few empty beer bottles and paper plates, tossing them in the garbage. “You guys seem close.”
He rinses out my empty glass and grabs a water bottle out of the fridge, handing it to me. “He’s probably my only friend.”
I take the offered bottle and cock a hip. “Your only friend?”
His hands slide around my waist and his eyes flare, the brown seeming to go from solid to molten. “Are you my friend?”
I gasp as he grips my ass. “I’d like to think so.” My voice shakes and he stares at my mouth.
“You’re more.”
“I am?” The two whispered words fall from my parted lips.
He leans down, hunching his tall frame to bring his mouth close to mine. “So much more.” Raining kisses along my jaw my knees wobble with the force it takes to remain standing.
I slide my hands up his arms, over the muscles at his shoulders, and lock them behind his neck. “I can’t explain any of this.”
“Don’t even try.” He nuzzles my throat. “Let’s just go with it.” He bends his knees and in one powerful swoop I’m cradled in his arms.
In a couple long strides he lays me down on the bed and slides a flimsy accordion door closed behind him.
“The walls of the boat are a lot thinner than your cottage.” He’s flashing a half smile while pulling his shirt off over his head.
“You worried I’ll wake the neighbors?” I kick off my shoes and pull my sweatshirt off so I’m sitting in nothing but a plain white bra and cutoffs.
He crawls over me, forcing me to my back, then slides his knee between my thighs and parts them. “I’m counting on it.”
ADEN
It’s been said that there are two kinds of women.
The kind you fuck.
And the kind you marry.
I’m overly familiar with the first kind. Accustomed to the rushing-for-the-goal kind of sex that meets those basic needs and helps to redirect my thoughts to something more pleasurable.
But this . . . Fuck. This is most definitely not that.
I want to spend days in Celia’s body. I want to slow things to a crawl and feel every single touch, every brush of her fingertips, slide of her tongue, all of it. I even stopped drinking hours ago to sober up for this and that shit is so far from my norm it’s borderline scary.
And how in the ever-loving hell can she bring me to my knees in a white cotton bra and shorts? No clue, but the second she pulled her sweatshirt off I almost dropped right then and there.
“Why are you staring at me?” I blink up and am met with those green eyes, but they’re clouded with insecurity. “I prob
ably should’ve brought something sexier—”
“You fuckin’ kidding me?” I cup her face and make sure she’s locked there, unable to look away. “You’re so hot, I can’t stop looking at you.”
Our lips come together in a kiss that I feel down my spine. There has to be some explanation as to why everything with Celia is so much more . . . intense. Maybe it’s because I know she’s leaving? The thought that I can’t have her whenever I want her, which if she stayed would be always, is making me want her more.
Whatever it is, I like it. A lot.
Just like last night we strip each other naked and take time learning each other’s bodies. She runs her lips across my chest, her tongue up my neck, and I’m helpless in her hands. Tasting every part of her I discover there isn’t a spot on her that isn’t sweet. She practically purrs when I lap at her breasts and every time she reaches for me I have to hold her off to keep up the unhurried pace.
When I finally get the condom out I haven’t the willpower to watch her put it on without exploding. The desire to be inside her is too strong.
She lies still, her legs open to me in invitation, and I bite my lip as I fall into the cradle of her thighs. “You’re holding back.”
Fuck yeah, I am. “I want to take my time, but . . . damn, freckles, it’s killin’ me.”
Her nails scrape up my sides, over my shoulders, and through my hair hard enough it’s sure to leave marks. The sting is all the motivation I need. I flex my hips, sliding deep inside, and swallow her sigh of approval.
“Better, baby?”
She arches her back taking me deeper. “So much better. Now . . . move.”
I take her on the bed, against the wall, on the floor, and finally when I can’t take another second of the torture we both finish together in a heaving lump of sticky skin, panting breath, and pounding pulses.
“Did I hurt you?”
She’s crushed beneath me on the floor, her arms and legs wrapped around me and holding me inside her. “Not at all.”
I chuckle into her throat and breathe in her scent, which has changed to something more pungent and sexual. “You want to let me go so I don’t crush you?”
“No.” She convulses around me. “I kinda like you where you are.”
“Mmm . . .” I thrust into her a few more times, nice and slow, easing myself away so I can trash this condom and get this woman who deserves to be made love to in a bed with fancy fucking sheets and goosedown rather than on the floor of an old boat. “Let me at least get you into the bed.”
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