The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)

She drew back and shifted away from him. The movement was small but deliberate. Where before there hadn’t been space to squeeze an envelope between them; now the air circulating in the chasm she had placed between their bodies felt ice cold.

Miles couldn’t take his eyes off her. With her arms caging her bent knees, and her hands clasped tightly together, she appeared to have closed herself off both physically and emotionally. And it was frustrating to witness.

She stared at the ocean. Not acknowledging him, or what had just happened between them.

Stormy whined and Miles looked at the puppy who was sitting with her back to the water and watching them. More specifically—ravenously eyeing the apple core that Miles had dropped in the sand when Charity had kissed him. He picked up the sandy core and dropped it into a poop bag, before looking at the dog again.

“Come,” he called, snapping his fingers to punctuate the command, and Charity made a soft snorting sound. His eyes jerked back to her face and—even though she was still gazing at the ocean—that smile was back. Relieved that she still seemed to be in good spirits, he waited for Stormy to obey him, before refocusing his attention on Charity.

“What’s funny?” he asked, lifting Stormy into his lap and fluffing her ears affectionately.

“I’ll tell you some other time,” she said.

“When?”

“When I think the time is right.”

Well, what the fuck did that mean?

“Do you enjoy being an enigma?” He tried to sound teasing, but instead the note fell flat, and he sounded curt and a little resentful instead. That was all it took to chase the smile from her lips.

She looked at him, her eyes somber. “No. And I don’t want to be considered a challenge either. A fun trophy to hunt.”

“Is that what you think is happening here?”

“I’m not sure what’s happening here, I’m merely telling you what I hope it’s not.”

“It’s not that.”

“We’ll see.” She pushed to her feet and stepped away from him to dust sand from the seat of her jeans. “I thought you were going to work on that naughty dog’s recall. And if what happened earlier is any indication, she definitely needs it.”

He supposed that meant the subject was closed.

For now.

Stormy was being a brat. Charity tried not to laugh at Miles’s comical frustration as he tried his best to teach the puppy to “sit” and “stay”. She sat like a champ, but “stay” was a problem. She seemed to know exactly what Miles wanted and stayed put about 50 percent of the time. But the instant anything more interesting came along, she took off in pursuit.

Thus far; she had been diverted by a tangle of rotting seaweed, chased a flock of seagulls, and followed a crab into the waves only to run away in shock when the water had “chased” her. The latter, of course, had resulted in a fun—for her—game of keep away with the waves.

Miles appeared both exasperated and entertained by her. More often than not, he had an amused grin on his face while he was issuing half-hearted commands or reprimands.

Charity couldn’t take her eyes off him. But whenever he glanced over at her, she shifted her attention to the puppy, not wanting to be caught staring. She liked watching him. With his unruly, windswept black hair, and his dark stubble, despite the faded jeans and that dark blue hoodie, he definitely resembled the pirate he had jokingly claimed to be earlier.

Her fingers—the same ones which had so enjoyed stroking his prickly stubble—lifted to trace her still tingling lips. She knew that he had wanted more than that soft kiss, but he hadn’t made any protest when she had moved away from him.

She contemplated the kiss. She had liked his lips; curved, firm and smooth, she had enjoyed how mobile they had felt beneath hers. She had daringly traced the seam of his mouth with her tongue, but he hadn’t taken it as an invitation to stick his tongue down her throat. He had merely allowed her to explore as she pleased.

But she regretted not taking the time to discover more. She still wanted to touch the chest that so fascinated her, wanted to feel

his weight on top of her, and his thighs between hers…her nipples hardened at the exciting thought. And she very nearly forgot herself and touched them.

Her breathing accelerated, and the long-neglected inner walls of her pussy tightened in anticipation. She wanted to feel him there. Inside her. Hard. Hot. She wanted him above her…No better; beneath her, and she wanted him to command her to come. In that deep, controlled voice.

The thought of it excited her, thrilled her. But also terrified her. How could she be so helplessly aroused at the thought of allowing any man such control over her again?

How dare you touch yourself while you’re sucking my cock, you little whore? I didn’t say you could come!

She was nearly overwhelmed by the surge of nausea that hit her at the uninvited, repulsive memory. And she shuddered in all-consuming horror.