“Okay, now you can put it in.” Eric turned around to find Abigail slinking into the kitchen. “Abigail, you’re here. Good, can you pull out a cookie sheet from that cabinet?” He pointed to the cabinet by her head.
Was she being watched? She didn’t feel like it but checked around to be sure. Sean was nowhere in sight. “Sure,” she said, then dropped her purse on the counter and reached up into the cabinet.
“Hey, Sean’s here. Did you see him?” Eric said before turning back to the pot where Ron slid pieces of meat into the sauce. “Easy, babe.”
Ron looked over his shoulder at Abigail and gave a sympathetic smile. He tilted his head toward the french doors. Abigail turned around and could see Sean sitting on the end of a lounger next to the pool. His elbows rested on his knees as he focused on something in the distance.
Abigail set the cookie sheet on the counter and watched through the open doors. The reddened skin on his shoulders looked like he’d been lounging in the sun for weeks. The rest of his back was a pretty shade of pink. How long had he been here? She looked at the two still bickering at the stove. All the guys had ditched their shirts and wore only their colorful swim trunks.
“He needs some aloe,” she mumbled.
“Huh?” Ron said as he stuck his head in the fridge to dig out two blocks of cheese.
“Nothing.”
“Eric made Singapore slings. You want one?” Ron asked her as he sliced into the block of mozzarella.
She needed to keep all her wits if she was going to survive this evening. Dinner and home were the only plans on her agenda, not tiki drinks and giggling. “No, but I’ll have a glass of tea.”
Abigail knew her way around Eric’s kitchen and helped herself to a glass of iced tea. When she sat down on one of the cushioned bar stools, she looked out the doors onto the patio. Sean was still out there, sitting in the same position. His broad back looked tense, each muscle strung tight.
This is stupid
. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” She reached into the fridge, grabbed the bottle of aloe, and headed for the patio.
SEAN STARED INTO the pink and purple horizon. He’d hung out here way too long. The sound of Abigail’s voice coming from behind the bathroom door had sent his heart into maniac mode, thudding so hard he thought the damn thing was going to punch through his chest. What in the hell was she doing here? Ron had said Xbox and dinner, never anything about Abigail coming over.
He felt stuck. If he walked out, it’d look like he was throwing a tantrum. If he stayed, he might throw up. He’d never gotten this nervous before a fight. Hadn’t even flinched when the judge sentenced him to five years. Now his palms were soaked, and all he could think about was running into the tree line at the back of the property.
“You’re red.” The sweet sound didn’t startle him. Surprised him, yes, but didn’t make him jump. He wanted to turn to her, pull her soft body down onto his lap, and kiss the apology against her beautiful lips. “I…I brought some aloe.”
In his peripheral vision, he could see pink flip-flops and creamy white calves. He tilted his head just a bit. What had she put on? He could see her knees and the firm flesh of her thighs.
Jesus Christ, she’s trying to fucking kill me
. The jean shorts she had on were tattered and well-worn. The stringy white fringes hung against the smooth skin he was dying to lick and nibble. He pressed his palms together.
“Okay, I just thought because you’re shoulders are red and—”
“Sure.”
What the fuck are you doing? Run, asshole!
“Here,” she said and slipped the pink flip-flops from her pretty little feet.
He took the bottle of green gel from her hand. “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said and unscrewed the cap. When he looked back, she was lying against the lounger, knees pulled up to her chest. Jesus, he could see a thin piece of pale purple panty underneath those sexy jean shorts.
“I didn’t know you were coming either. Do you want me to leave?”
She set a glass on the table between the loungers and started to stand up. The lump in his throat gave way. “No. God, please don’t go. Can you do this?” He tipped the plastic bottle in her direction and stood up. He’d do damn near anything to get between those luscious thighs again.
“Um, okay…I can do that.”
Instead of giving her a second to change her mind, he sat down on the end of her lounger and backed up until his back hit her knees. He pressed, and she parted her legs to drop her feet on either side of him.
Those purple panties are covering that silky pussy. Her wet, creamy cunt
. His fingers remembered how warm and soft the inside of her body felt and ached to get back there. The closure on his trunks was going to pop if he didn’t get his head in the game. She already thought he was an animal. If she saw the wood he was sporting, she’d push him into the pool and hope he’d drown.
Her knees bumped his thighs when she scooted closer. He didn’t mind, but she must have, because she scooted back again. “I won’t bite,” he said, trying to ease her anxiety.
“I know,” she mumbled. “You scared me, Sean.”
The first swipe of her fingers across his shoulder made him bite back a moan. It was his Abigail, his baby girl putting her hands on him. He dropped his head and closed his eyes. “I can’t take back what I did, but I hope you’ll let me make it up to you. I swear I never meant to hurt you, Abigail. I’d never hit you. Ever. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re red on your shoulders and pink on your back,” she whispered.
Another timid swipe across the other shoulder made his dick twitch. “We were out here all afternoon. I’m not used to being around a pool. I should’ve put a T-shirt on, I guess. Did you hear me, Abigail? I swear I’d never hurt you.”
She didn’t say anything but continued to use her delicate fingertips to apply the soothing gel. With each pass, her fingertips pressed harder. Then her fingertips became fingers, until finally, and thankfully, her hands rubbed into the aching muscles between his shoulder blades. The tension had become a cancer, eating through his skin, infesting his muscles until he’d learned to live with the tight feeling.
“How’s your dog?” he asked.
She dug her thumbs into his lower back. “Your back is really tight. She’s fine. That squirrel squeaks 24-7.”
The little furry princess liked the toy
. “Sorry. I didn’t think she’d chew on it all the time. I can take the squeaker out if you want. It’s not hard to do.”
“I don’t know. She really seems to like it, and it doesn’t bother me
that
much. I tried to take it away from her yesterday, and she growled at me.”
He looked over his shoulder.
Damn
. She looked sexy as hell in a white dress shirt. Whose was it? She wore the man’s dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top three, no four, buttons undone. The little vixen was going to kill him. Jealousy was going to make him go insane, but her juicy tits all tucked under that shirt were sure as hell going to fucking bring him to his knees.
He grinned, knowing the dog missed him. “She growled at you?”
Full lips smirked back at him when she said, “Well, you don’t have to smile so big about it.”
He turned back around, goofy smile still planted on his face. “Sorry. Can you rub my side, right here? It feels like I got burnt there too.” Her delicate fingers, smeared with aloe, rubbed into the sore muscle. “And here,” he said pointing over his shoulder to the back of his neck. Her fingers worked their magic, draining the tension inch by inch. There was one more muscle that had more tension than any of the others, but he figured he’d have to work on her a bit more to get that one rubbed. “Oh, and here.”
“Where?”
He turned around, draping his legs over the sides of the lounger. She was squirting more gel into her palm when she looked up to find him pointing to the left side of his chest. “Here,” he said.
She dipped her chin. “You can reach there.”
“I know.” He took her slippery hand and pressed it to his chest. “But it feels so much better when you do it. Will you help me?” When she tried to pull away, he pressed harder. Hell, if he could’ve absorbed her hand under his skin, he would have. “Look at me, baby. I want you to know that I may have acted like a jerk, but I’d never hurt you or Penelope. I have a temper, and, well, I know I was a jerk.”
“Yes, you were a jerk, Sean. But I-I don’t think—”
“Don’t think,” he said. “Just rub. And undo another button on that shirt.”
“But…but,” she stammered, never removing her hand from his chest. Her fingertips pressed into his muscle. “Why don’t you make me?”
Did she just snicker? Was that a smile? He tipped her chin to meet his stare, and dark lashes blinked back. “If I make you, baby, you’ll be ass up over this lounger with my cock buried inside you. Is that what you want?” When her breath hitched, he took the second to slide her hand down his torso, leaving a trail of gel in its wake. “Is it?”
Her eyes snapped up. “No. Y-You hurt me, Sean. No. I’m not going to play this game.”
The moment she jumped off the lounger, he knew he’d fucked up. She
wasn’t
like every other woman he’d ever met.
“You look really good,” he quietly said to her back as she walked through the french doors.
* * * *
While Ron and Abigail set the patio table, Sean kept busy lighting the torches. By the time he was done, the backyard looked like a fairytale playground. The soft glow sparked a whole new mirage. Thick thighs in pink stockings with a wispy little tutu around a soft waist. Gossamer wings flittering with her sweet laughter. Yeah, his dick was on board with that fantasy. His Abigail all dolled up as a sweet sprite. He smiled.
I guess I’ve got another fetish for that application.
The sun had set, leaving a warm breeze in its place. Sean leaned against the door frame, watching Abigail fiddle with the forks and spoons. Every time she leaned down, the front of her shirt dipped, giving him the perfect view of the most edible cleavage he’d ever seen. Would she ever learn to trust him again? Damn, he’d really messed up.
Eric walked out onto the patio, hefting two plates laden with large portions of lasagna. “Want to grab the salad on the counter?”
Sean found the wooden bowl heaped with mixed greens and grabbed the two bottles of dressing.
When he returned, Abigail was pouring wine into three goblets. Before they sat down, she poured a glass of water for Sean. His chest felt too tight. She might be pissed at him, but she still took care of him.
“Abs, you sit over there,” Ron said as he scooted out the chair next to where Eric was sitting down.
Sean didn’t look up as he pulled out his chair and sat. He didn’t have to. The sweet scent of coconut drifted beside him when she sat down. It didn’t escape his attention when she timidly scooted her chair, just a bit, to get away from him. Yeah, that hurt like fucking hell. She couldn’t even stand to sit next to him for a meal.
“Ranch or Italian?” Abigail asked. “Sean, do you want any dressing?”
“Huh?” Sean glanced over.
“Do you want some?” Abigail said to Sean. “I know you like ranch, but I didn’t know what you wanted.”
Abigail’s sweet voice pulled him from his lowly daydream. Even if she refused to sit close to him, at least she would speak to him. “Sorry, I’ll take ranch. Thanks.”
“My God,” Eric said. “I think that’s the most words you’ve strung together all day.”
He fought a snort and poured the dressing on his salad. “Don’t you want any?” he asked Abigail.
“No, thanks. I’m…I’m not feeling so great. Trying to cut back anyway.”
He loaded his fork with a bite of the gooey pasta. “Why?”
She poked at the leaves. “Why what?”
He waited to swallow. “Why are you cutting back?”
Her fork hadn’t moved from beside her plate. She picked at the slice of garlic bread. “I just am. Ron, I want to make an appointment with our Web guy.”
She’d dismissed him. If she thought she wasn’t going to eat, she had another think coming. He took the bottle of dressing and poured a dollop on her bowl of salad. While she sipped on the wine, he speared her fork into the slab of lasagna on her plate. “Eat, please. You need to eat.”
With wide eyes, she looked over at him and set the glass of wine down. His pleading look dared her to say something, anything. She picked up the fork and cut a small piece of lasagna. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips.
Chapter Eleven
Abigail sat at the dining table, sifting through the pile of mail Ron had sent up from the office. The neat piles were divided into bills, orders, fan mail, and junk mail. The thought of tackling the bill pile made her heart race. She’d spent the last two days poring over the ledgers, trying to remember the things Sean had told her about the accounts. The lines blurred and the numbers jumbled whenever she tried to calculate the columns. Yesterday had been a productive day. She’d met the bank officer to decode her business accounts. Turned out, Sean had been right. Her worth added up to be more than she ever could’ve dreamed.
Bonuses were in order, she thought and swallowed the last bit of cold coffee from the mug. A growl bellowed from under the table.
“I told you. He’s gone, girl.”
A
squeak, squeak
flew across the hardwood floor as Penelope raced into the living room, clutching the rubber squirrel in her mouth. “You’re no help!”
Three days had passed since the dinner at Eric’s house. Three days since she’d seen Sean’s gorgeous face. Heard his deep laugh. Three days since she’d felt his tight skin under her fingertips and listened as he spoke in that soothing voice that always seemed to calm her nerves. The urge to slip her hands around his chest to feel his beating heart was a fight like she’d never experienced before, sitting on the lounger rubbing aloe into those tense muscles. When he’d run his hand down his tight stomach, she thought her underwear was going to catch fire. Damn, the man was sexy and knew it. When she’d told them she’d decided to skip the movie and head home, his lips fell and puppy-dog eyes sulked back at her from across the couch. She wanted to stay, God she wanted to stay, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Now it felt like it sure as hell would’ve been. Her pussy ached to feel his thick length sliding in and out of her body.