Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) by L. M. Carr

close the door behind me, I hear her ask if they can do it again.
    Against the old brick building, I stretch my arms and legs. When I reach into my pocket to set my running app, I realize that I left my phone and wallet in the bathroom. Shit! Even though I want to run up and get it, I don’t need to catch another glimpse of my buddy going in for round two or even three.
     

     
    I ROUND THE corner of Boston Public Gardens and steady my pace until I’m walking in a circle to cool down. It’s scorching out; it reminds me of the long days during my deployment overseas. My mouth is parched and sweat pours down my face, drenching my T-shirt. I search around for a water fountain because I don’t even have a single dollar to buy a bottle of water from the street vendor. I can’t exactly give him a sob story that I’ll pay him tomorrow. My eyes scan the pond that looks like an oasis right about now; if it were a river, I’d have no problem scooping up some water to drink, but this pond is dirty and probably full of bird shit. I survived two deployments in third world countries, I’m not about to die from Ecoli on American soil.
    “You look hot,” a familiar voice calls out. Remy smiles and walks over to me as I continue cooling down. My eyes have a mind of their own because instead of looking at her eyes, they fall to her plump tits all snug in a yellow tank top that almost matches her hair. The color reminds me the lemon drops I used to love as kid. My sister used to hide them from me until I promised to do her chores as well as mine.
    With a quick clearing of her throat, I force my eyes to look up and meet her green gaze. She looks beautiful and radiant. The green in her eyes is almost indescribable. It’s a cross between a fern and an emerald. I want to refrain from my body from responding to hers as a stupid crooked smile stretches across my face. The memory of last night is still too fresh in my mind.
    “Hey,” I respond flatly. If my tone doesn’t indicate that I’m still a little pissed off about last night, my cold greeting does. She fucking lied right to my face.
    “It’s a little too hot for a run, don’t you think?” She eyeballs my sweaty body as her bottom lip pulls in. “Here.”
    “I’m good,” I raise my hand to reject the water bottle she’s offering. I know if I put my lips where hers were, my dick is going to spring to life and the thin material won’t hide my stiffness.
    “Shane. Take a sip. You can waterfall if you want.” She demonstrates how to waterfall as if I didn’t know. As her head tips back, her mouth opens, and she pours water right in and onto her pink tongue —the tongue I tasted last night—the tongue I crave right now. The unexpected image of her mouth around my dick fills my mind. Fuck me! There I go. Stiff as a board.
    I exhale a deep breath and relent. I walk around her, take a seat on the bench and look at the book that’s turned face down. I don’t see her laptop or papers. I cross my leg, resting my left ankle on my right knee. I know she’s staring at me; I can feel it. Half a second later, she’s sitting by my side, offering the bottle of water again. This time, I accept it, press my lips to the rim and take a swift drink.
    A quiet moan escapes her lips as I take another sip before handing it back with a quick “Thanks.”
    She nods and then takes a sip of water.
    Watching her lips on the bottle isn’t helping my erection. I look down at her thigh that’s touching mine and wish I could place my hands back where they were last night and continue the trail led by my fingers. Shit! Get it together, man!
    I force my eyes to turn away as I change the subject. “Did you work this morning?”
    She snorts loudly, causing my eyes to drift to hers just in time to catch the nodding of her head in confirmation and the pursing of her lips. “It’s was so busy and Jenna called out sick.” Her eyes roll upward as she sighs exasperatedly.
    “She’s sick?” I