by Shandi Boyes
I shake my head. “Who goes to an art gallery to hear brush strokes?”
He appears confused, but still answers, “No one.”
“Exactly. I wasn’t watching for the pleasure of my ears.” I gulp before cringing. I just threw myself into the deep end without a lifejacket. “Not that I was watching.”
“Oh, you were watching, Prim.” Colby steps back, unpinning me. “Why do you think I put on such a riveting performance?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he stalks out of the room, his walk as cocky as ever.
“Jamie, over here. I saved you a seat.” Tyrone stops coercing the skillet into being his bitch to point to a chair at the end of the dining table. It’s directly across from Colby. “How are you feeling? Did a nap help?”
“Yeah. I’m feeling wonderful.” I smile a greeting to Terry, who’s peering at the stitches in my forehead with remorseful eyes. “How was rock climbing?” Pretending I can’t feel Colby’s eyes taking in my recently straightened hair and scrubbed-cleaned body, I slip into the seat Tyrone referenced before twisting around to face him. “You should take Colby next time. I’ve heard it’s great for working out stubborn kinks.”
Thank God the table is wide or I’d be wearing the drink Colby was in the process of swallowing. I wouldn’t have minded. My first shower was nowhere near as riveting as Colby’s, but I’m willing to give it another shot. I’m buzzed all over, so not only will the high pressure of the spray give relief to my tight muscles, the coolness will soothe the burn of Colby’s white-hot glare. He’s not glaring at me in anger. It’s the same sexy hooded stare his eyes held just before he came.
Colby and Tyrone’s closeness is proven without a doubt when Tyrone replies, “It’s a great stress reliever, but some of us only need a bit of hot water to see us through the day.” He plops down a bowl of bread rolls in front of me before hitting me with a playful wink. “How do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare, please.” As Tyrone heads back to the skillet, I ask, “Any news on the landline?”
Although my first thought was annoyance when Colby showed me the supposed email I had sent him, once my anger settled down, suspicion took its place. The IP address attached to the email proved it was sent from a server at Metrics, which means someone in the building sent it. I just can’t understand who or why.
“Not yet. The phone company said a technician could be out anytime within the next seventy-two hours.”
I stop grimacing when Colby asks, “Who do you need to call, Prim?”
A quick-witted comeback sits on my tongue, but with the events of earlier today overtaking the stimulating one from this afternoon, I go with honesty instead. “My parents.”
“Do you want to go home?”
The worry in his eyes floats away when I shake my head. “My mom has been unwell, so I want to check in.”
My reply isn’t a total lie. My mom will never get better, but she’s been battling more than Alzheimer’s the past few weeks. When my dad gave me a full report Thursday afternoon, I immediately suggested canceling my weekend getaway. He, just like Hugh, wouldn’t hear me out. For some stupid reason, he believes I need time away from LA. Only now am I beginning to wonder if he was right. It’s been an eye-opening starter, that’s for sure.
Colby nods in understanding. “Once you’ve eaten, I’ll drive you into town. Service can be sporadic in winter, but old-man Fishburne has a satellite phone.” He strays his eyes to Tyrone during the last half of his statement, seeking confirmation.
“Yeah. He’ll charge you out the ass to use it, though.”
“It’ll be worth it,” Colby and I say at the same time.
I squeeze Tyrone’s forearm in thanks when he sets down a perfectly cooked steak with a jacket potato and a generous helping of steamed vegetables. It’s more than I’ll ever be able to eat, but with my hunger rampant from Colby’s pre-dinner entertainment, I’ll give it my best shot to clear my plate.
“Is this the town we’re visiting tomorrow?”
Colby’s eyes stray from the road to me. “No. There’s nothing here but an overpriced pub, angry locals, and a big-ass cell tower.” He points to a steel monstrosity on our right during his last word.
After pulling into a dusty gravel lot, he digs his switched-off cell phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. “You don’t want to check it first?”
Colby twists his lips in a sexy way. “Who do I have to worry about?”
I want to say me, but that would be pretty pointless considering I’m sitting directly in front of him. “Cate? Clara? Or any of those other ‘C’ names I can’t remember.” When he snickers, the world feels right again. He’s been quiet since I walked in on him in the shower, which is surprising considering how cocky he was afterward.
When I switch on his phone, it vibrates nonstop for the first minute, announcing we have service. “Ignore those. They won’t be anyone important.”
He leans in real close so he can decline to open the seventy-three text messages and one hundred and forty-three emails. One inch closer and his lips would be tickling the shell of my ear.
My breaths hurry when Colby inhales deeply, smelling the body wash I lathered myself in. It’s a more manly palette than I’m used to, but since it replicated the scent surrounding me when he brought himself to climax, I wanted to be doused in it.
When I feel his heart racing in his chest, I flick my eyes up to his to see something vulnerable flashing through them. They’re different—more controlled than usual. The gleam in them brightens when he notices my nipples strained against my shirt. They’re budded and hard, begging to be fondled. No part of his body is touching mine, but I’m burning up as if we’re back in the bathroom, and I’m in the shower with him instead of watching from afar.
While licking his dry lips, he raises his eyes to mine. They’re still vulnerable, but also hungry. But I don’t think it’s a hunger for food. “Do you know the number you need to call, or do you need the directory?”
“I know it.”
My reply comes out with a quiver, exposing my wavering constraint. It was like this throughout dinner—little glances and almost touches. It’s been electrifying and oddly compelling. I’ve always said I hate being teased, but Colby is making a quick liar out of me.
Nodding, he clicks the phone app before sinking back onto his side of the van’s bench seat to crank open his door.
“You don’t have to go.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I need a breather.” He sounds the most honest I’ve ever heard him, but he also sounds like he’s in pain.
I take a few moments watching him kick up dirt before dialing my dad’s number into his phone and squishing it to my ear. My dad answers a few rings later. It’s late for him. After apologizing for not calling yesterday, I request an update for Mom. He sounds optimistic, which fills me with hope the doctors are wrong.
“How many times did she request your hand in marriage today?”
His chuckle warms my heart as effectively as Colby’s closeness heats my body. “Only half a dozen.” Dad’s laughter dies down as a strong sense of sentiment zaps down the line. “She asked about you today.”
“Really?” My eyes burn from a sudden rush of moisture.
“Yeah.” His voice wobbles like he too is on the cusp of crying. “She wanted to know where the crazy-haired lady went. You were supposed to be our witness.”
It’s not quite the reply I was seeking, but it still sends tears toppling down my cheeks.
My dad groans when he hears my quiet sniffles. “Princess… ugh. This is why I told you not to call. You’re supposed to be having the time of your life, not worrying about us.”
“I’m not crying.” I wipe at my cheeks, hating that they’re forcing me to lie to the only man I’ve ever loved. “I’m crying, but they’re happy tears. I swear.” I brush away the blobs slipping down my cheeks before Colby can see them. It’s bad enough my dad heard them, much less having them witnessed. “I went whitew
ater rafting today.”
I don’t expect Dad to fall for my quick change in conversation, but he follows along nicely. “Yeah? How was it?”
“Ah…” I think back to the moment where my life flashed before my eyes. It was an extremely short and boring twenty seconds. “It was good. Interesting.”
His hearty laughter beats his crackling voice any day of the week. “Let me guess, you were too worried about getting your hair wet to have a good time?”
“You know me, Dad, all about the glamour.”
“I wish that were the case, princess. It would make a nice change instead of fussing over us all the time, eh?”
“Dad—”
“No, Jamie, enough of this. Go… have fun. I’ll be here waiting for you and your stories when you get back.”
“Daddy.” He sighs. He’s a sucker for ‘daddy.’ “I love you. I’ll see you on Tuesday when I bring a shortlist of candidates for you to look over.”
“Okay. I love you too. See you on Tuesday.”
After pulling Colby’s cell from my ear, I hit his email app. I log him out so I can enter my details. Although Colby believed me when I said I approved his claim, I still want him to see the proof firsthand. I’m also interested to see if any of the assisted-living facilities I emailed Thursday night replied to my request for an emergency transfer. I didn’t hold back any punches after my exchange with Brad. I left my engagement ring on the entryway table, had my mail redirected to Metrics Insurance, and commenced the process of having my mother’s care returned to my custody. I’d love for her to stay in the facility she’s in now, but it isn’t feasible. It costs more per year than I make.
My heart whacks out a funky tune when I discover the response has been better than anticipated. There are a number of facilities capable of an emergency transfer, and some are well within my budget. I flag their emails as unread, so I can find them quickly when I return home Tuesday before scrolling down to an email from Athena.
In true Athena form, it’s not a standard here’s-the-attachment-you-requested email.
To: The sexy bitch who finally realized her worth
From: The sexy bitch who always knew it
Subject: Have you banged him yet?
If you say no, I’ll show you how to get the job done when you get back, but for now, we’ll go with the basics. Take Frosty’s ginormous carrot. Shove it into the warm pie between your legs. Rinse with wetness. Then repeat until you scream his name at the top of your lungs. Easy peasy.
Oh, yeah, and there’s supposedly something really important attached to this email.
Love ya face.
A xx
I laugh before forwarding the attachment to Colby’s email address, minus Athena’s instructions and subject line. Once it whooshes into the world wide web, I return Athena’s email.
To: The sexy bitch who needs to stop calling herself a bitch
From: Someone who needs recordable spy glasses
Subject: Are steamy shower activities classed as banging?
I’m joking. Calm down. The only banging was my heart when I was caught watching something I shouldn’t have been. I’ll explain when I get home.
Thank you for the attachment and so-called instructions, but if you really have a pie between your legs, I suggest you seek urgent medical attention.
In other news, I hope Brad’s visit didn’t dampen your day. It will be a thing of the past soon. I promise.
I love your face.
J xx
If you think discussing the dissolution of my engagement is stabbing my heart with pain, you’d be wrong. What I said to Colby earlier was true. I feel more alive now than I ever have. My bad days with Brad were far exceeding the good days, so I would have left him eventually. His rough handling just sped up the process. Shouted words are understandable, we both have stressful jobs, but nothing will ever excuse violence. A shove always turns into a slap. An open-handed slap always turns into a punch. Just like a violent-tempered man will always blame others for his actions. I know this firsthand. Not because I was in an abusive relationship but because I helped my best friend escape one.
I stop reminiscing about days that should have been golden when a tap sounds on the glass next to my head. While smiling at the worried crinkle between Colby’s brows, I wind down the window.
“Are you okay?” His thumbs clean my tears before I get the chance to nod. “Why are you crying?”
Trying to think of how I can explain the craziness of my life right now, I’m a little stumped. My body’s response to his meekest touch has me finally understanding why Tyrone requested him to cool our friendship two weeks ago. We never stepped over the line, but things between us became very chummy very quickly. I was confused about the feelings I was developing for him, so I could imagine how bad it looked to those outside of our bubble.
I would feel sorry for Brad if he weren’t such an asshole.
Even with my cheeks dry, Colby keeps his hands close by. It triples the heat creeping up my neck. “Is your mom okay?”
I lift my chin, aware the panic in his voice most likely resides around the emotions he tries to keep hidden. Even if news of the McGregor children being orphans hadn’t circulated in the media when his brother married last year, I’m still aware his mother died when he was a teen, and his brother was appointed his guardian instead of his father. Stuff like that was mentioned in the psych examination Metrics Insurance made him undertake to ensure he was mentally capable of being a skydiving instructor.
“She’s been ill for a long time, so I’ve grown accustomed to anticipating bad news. I’m just not sure I’ll be ready to accept it when it does come. If that makes any sense?”
“I get it. If I didn’t, I’d give you a shit line about how talking about it will make it better.”
Colby’s reply makes me smile. The first line I’m always given when I tell people my mom is sick is that “talking will make everything better.” It doesn’t. No amount of words will fix what my mom has. Not even medicine can help her, so telling me to talk about it won’t change anything. She will still die, and I’ll still be left picking up the pieces her loss leaves behind. It sucks, but sometimes life does.
I stop twisting my skirt around my fingers when Colby says, “That doesn’t mean I can’t listen, though, Jamie. Whether about your mom, work, or even Brad…” I laugh at the gag he does when he mentions my ex-fiancé. “If you need to vent, I’m more than happy to hear you out.”
“What if I need to let off steam about a really annoying adventure capitalist who grates my last nerve?”
The worry on his face switches to humor in an instant. “What could you possibly have to whine about him? He sounds like a great guy. I bet he’s handsome, too. Probably hung like a donkey. All adventure capitalists are. It’s what brings in the big bucks.”
His words shift to laughter when I sock him in the stomach. “Sounds like someone has tickets on himself.”
When I poke him low in the stomach, right near his tattoo, the humor in his eyes burns away for egotism. “Ah… I was wondering if you took in more than my cock sliding in and out of my fist when you watched my performance in the shower. Are you sure you need glasses, Prim?” Colby slides the glasses he’s referencing back up my nose with his index finger. “Or are they just an excuse to conduct in-depth examinations without your suitors’ knowledge?”
My nipples press up against his chest when I slide out of the van with more gusto than I used to enter it. “I hated having glasses when I was a kid. The bullying, the four-eyes comments, and the assumption I was a nerd made me wish I had never told my mom I couldn’t see the chalkboard in the fifth grade.” I tilt closer to him like my heart isn’t racing a million miles an hour. “Now, I love them. Not just because I could see how every vein in your cock pulsated when you caught me enjoying your performance, but because even with my pulse shrilling in my ears, I could read the word you whispered just as you came. Ja-mie.” I mouth my name like he did in the shower�
�all virile, hot, and spaced by a needy breath.
Pretending my legs aren’t close to buckling, I skirt past Colby and head toward the bar on my right. “After the crazy day I’ve had, I could really use a drink or seven. Do you think this place knows what a cosmo is?”
“Jamie…”
Colby’s voice is as hot and husky as it was in the shower but with a hint of worry my lusty head is refusing to listen to. Only days ago, I would have never articulated the words I just said, yet here I am, talking freely without a care in the world. That probably has more to do with the member I felt growing between us the longer my body was pressed against Colby’s than newfound confidence, but I’ll gobble it up no matter what it is.
Dust covers the exposed toes in my pumps when I spin around to face Colby. “Are you coming, Colby? Drinks are on me.” Even in my voice, my tone is dripping with the sexual innuendo Colby uses in his day-to-day activities.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” His mouth is telling me no, but his legs are walking toward me—rather quickly too. They’re pumping as fast as the pulse beeping in my clit.
“It’s just a drink. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Chapter 24
Colby
Please, please, please, let her be wearing panties. I’m not strong enough for this. If Jamie straddles my lap sans underwear, I’m san morals. She’s drunk, and I’m as sober as the nuns who jump every Monday to get close to God, but that won’t stop me. She’s been teasing me all night. Daring little touches and flirting one-liners which have kept my dick in close contact with my zipper at all times. She all but ear-fucked me on the drive home. She told me how wet watching me in the shower made her, and how she wants to do it again but that she’ll replace my hand with her mouth.
Now she’s shoved me on my bed, telling me she can’t wait a second longer.
“Jamie…”
Her hands are around my neck, then in my hair before her lips are on mine.
