The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1)

Just like the previous night, everything in my body kicked into overdrive. “I …” Swallowing hard, I gave him a nervous smile. “I sorted and filed today.”

“That’s good.” He brushed my hair away from my shoulders and dipped his face into my neck.

I stiffened feeling the warmth of his breath spread along my skin. My hands slid from his shoulders to his hair, searching for control. If I didn’t want him to kiss my neck, I could have yanked him away.

But I did.

I wanted to be kissed where I’d never been kissed before. Boys had kissed me, but I’d never made out with anyone. No kisses on my neck. No hickeys.

Two things happened at the exact same time, and I didn’t know where to give my attention because they both set me ablaze and out of my mind. Fisher’s hands shifted from my hips to my legs, his thumbs pressing on my inner thighs really close to my crotch as his lips pressed to my neck for only a second before he licked … he licked a path to my ear.

A sharp, audible gasp left my parted lips just as he sucked my earlobe into his mouth and released it a second later by dragging his teeth along it. All the weird things happened at once.

Heat in my cheeks worked its way down to everywhere.

Pressure built between my legs.

I swear it felt like I’d peed a little, but I knew better.

Heaviness in my breasts.

Even my nipples felt different—sensitive as they pressed against the fabric of my bra.

Copious amounts of saliva required constant swallowing to keep from drooling. I was afraid to be touched anymore yet needed to be touched. It was so foreign and impossible to articulate even to myself.

My grip on his hair tightened which made him chuckle, kissing along my jaw. I didn’t find anything funny. I was crawling out of my skin in the most wicked way.

“F-Fisher …” I closed my eyes because everything he did made the room spin.

When his mouth covered mine, he didn’t kiss me slowly like the first time. He kissed me like I’d always imagined a man kissing a woman.

This time he teased my lips with his tongue, tasting me like he’d tasted my neck and my ear. Then he kissed me hard again, and the foreign invasion of his tongue sliding deep into my mouth … well … I liked it.

So much.

Too much.

It felt sinful, but I didn’t want him to stop.

For a few seconds, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with my tongue, but he showed me. Teased it. Teased me. And of all the lessons Fisher had tried to teach me up until that point, kissing was my favorite.

I was a good student. An eager student.

Then my phone rang, and I jumped, tearing myself away from him. I fished it out of my purse, a few inches away from where I sat on the counter. “Rory,” I said on a labored breath while I stared at the screen.

As I swiped the screen and brought it to my ear, Fisher stepped back, rubbing his well-kissed lips together while …

Oh my gosh!

He adjusted himself, and it gave me a moment’s pause, a little shock. I wasn’t experienced, but I also wasn’t stupid. I knew he was adjusting his erection, but for some reason I still felt a little shocked that kissing me did that to him.

Seeing my shock, he rolled his eyes and murmured, “Don’t look so surprised.”

I swallowed and cleared my throat, a tiny smile (a little triumphant) stole my lips as I found my voice. “Hey!”

“Hi. You sound happy. A good day?” Rory asked.

“Yeah, it was … fine.”

Fisher grabbed his jacket from the sectional and walked up the stairs. No look back. No kisses blown in my direction. I realized it was his way of giving me some privacy, but it was like the text … I wanted the emoji, the wink.

Something!

“I have some good news,” Rory said, bringing me out of my Fisher bubble.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Things are going well here. And I’ll be home early. Next week.”

“That’s … great.”

Rory laughed. “Don’t sound so enthused. I thought you’d be excited. I felt bad leaving right after we reunited after so long. Once I get home, we’ll have all the time we want to do whatever you want. And I have so much to tell you. So many things have been left unsaid for too long.”

I wasn’t sure what that really meant.

“Have you met any friends at church yet? Or work? Hailey is sweet, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, I like her a lot.”

“Any boys at church that have caught your attention?”

“Uh … no.” My face wrinkled. “And let’s call them guys not boys. I’m not dating twelve-year-olds.”

“Sorry. Guys. Young men. And there’s no need to rush into anything. You are so young. Love can be incredibly messy and confusing. Find you first.”