She knows exactly what she’s wearing.
I smile at her.
“How was your swim?”
She smiles back.
Thrust and parry.
“It was refreshing. How was watching?”
I hold her gaze and smile again.
“It was refreshing.”
Her grin widens.
“I forgot to get breakfast stuff for tomorrow. What would you like?”
You.
“Eggs,” I suggest.
She nods. “Wise choice. I think I can manage eggs.”
She grabs her purse.
I lift an eye-brow and glance at her chest again, at the way her bare tits strain against the t-shirt and her nipples poke against the fabric.
“Don’t you want to put on a bra?”
I somehow manage to keep my voice level.
She grins angelically and leans down to whisper in my ear, her tits pressed against my shoulder.
“No. I want you thinking about my nipples while I’m gone. They taste like honey.”
Jesus.
With that, she saunters away.
I swallow hard.
Cold fish. Cold fish. Cold fish.
Cold.
Fucking.
Dead.
Fish.
Somehow, I doubt that even the thoughts of cold dead fish are going to help me this summer.
Chapter Seven
Brand