“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.