might have been the one to pitch this article about the notorious smokejumpers of Alaska . . . instead of the story I’d told Jake about my editor in chief assigning it to me. I was here to see him, gather some research, write my article, and have him fuck me so I could finally move past Jake Wilde.
So I could finally realize everything I’d convinced myself I was missing out on wasn’t worth longing for. Just another guy, with another dick, willing to put it anywhere and everywhere he could squeeze it. I was here to get Jake Wilde out of my system once and for all.
I’d had boyfriends. But none of them had been him, and I was hoping that if I could just get him out of the way, I could move on and be happy with someone. Happy with someone other than him.
THE DOOR. SOMEONE was knocking on it.
She was here. Early.
Cursing under my breath, I rushed down the hall and stuffed the overflowing garbage bag inside of the closet. Then I tugged on the first shirt I came across and headed back into the living room. I was barefoot. I hadn’t showered after last night, which meant I was about to greet my best friend’s kid sister ripe from a night of work.
Not that she was going to get anywhere close enough to notice I hadn’t showered.
Cool your shit down, Jake .
It’s Bree. Like she gives a crap about my showering habits. Or, in this case, my lack thereof.
“Coming,” I called when the second knock pounded on the door. She had a long flight and was probably beat. I had to get to work soon but she’d probably want to take a nap or something.
My bed. Shit again. I hadn’t changed the sheets or even made the bed. As hosts went, I was a failure from the word go.
As soon as I pulled open the door, my forehead creased. This wasn’t Bree. It couldn’t be. This was not the girl who used to live in ponytails and sneakers. The one who almost killed me when I caught her padding her swimsuit top once, threatening to knee my balls into my throat if I told anyone. This was not that girl.
“I know it’s easier to pretend I don’t exist, but now I’m here. And you offered me a place to crash.” The woman standing in front of me pressed a hand into her hip and blinked up at me.
“Bree?” It couldn’t be. No fucking way.
“Unless you’re expecting another Bree today, then yeah, it’s me.”
I scrubbed at my face, confused.
“I was a girl the last time you saw me, Jake.” She rolled her eyes like I was acting like a dumbass. Which I fully acknowledged that I was. “I’m a woman now, and those wonderful things known as hips and boobs finally appeared. It’s me.” She snapped her fingers in my face. “Do I have to show you the diamond-shaped birthmark on my leg to prove it?
Okay, the moment was catching up to me. Kind of. This was her. Bree. The woman version, not the kid one I’d kept her boxed in my memory as for all of these years. The boobs and hips comment was messing with me though because now that she’d said it, I was looking.
I shouldn’t have been looking.
But I was.
I didn’t want to stop looking either.
Bree might have been a late bloomer compared to other girls, but once she finally did, she’d gone and done it right. I was a big guy who had huge hands, but I could have squeezed each one of my giant mitts around her tits and had plenty to spare.
What the fuck?
Why was I thinking about that? Why was I picturing it right this very second? This girl had been like a little sister growing up, the girl I remembered jumping rope and blowing bubbles during summer break . . .
God, and now I was picturing her mouth blowing other things.
Her gaze dropped, and if she noticed my cock swelling behind my zipper, she gave no indication.
“So?” She leaned into the doorframe and crossed her arms around her waist. “Do I need to hike my skirt up and prove to you it’s me? Or are you going to invite me in sometime today?”
The skirt-lifting thing was tempting. But she did that
So I could finally realize everything I’d convinced myself I was missing out on wasn’t worth longing for. Just another guy, with another dick, willing to put it anywhere and everywhere he could squeeze it. I was here to get Jake Wilde out of my system once and for all.
I’d had boyfriends. But none of them had been him, and I was hoping that if I could just get him out of the way, I could move on and be happy with someone. Happy with someone other than him.
THE DOOR. SOMEONE was knocking on it.
She was here. Early.
Cursing under my breath, I rushed down the hall and stuffed the overflowing garbage bag inside of the closet. Then I tugged on the first shirt I came across and headed back into the living room. I was barefoot. I hadn’t showered after last night, which meant I was about to greet my best friend’s kid sister ripe from a night of work.
Not that she was going to get anywhere close enough to notice I hadn’t showered.
Cool your shit down, Jake .
It’s Bree. Like she gives a crap about my showering habits. Or, in this case, my lack thereof.
“Coming,” I called when the second knock pounded on the door. She had a long flight and was probably beat. I had to get to work soon but she’d probably want to take a nap or something.
My bed. Shit again. I hadn’t changed the sheets or even made the bed. As hosts went, I was a failure from the word go.
As soon as I pulled open the door, my forehead creased. This wasn’t Bree. It couldn’t be. This was not the girl who used to live in ponytails and sneakers. The one who almost killed me when I caught her padding her swimsuit top once, threatening to knee my balls into my throat if I told anyone. This was not that girl.
“I know it’s easier to pretend I don’t exist, but now I’m here. And you offered me a place to crash.” The woman standing in front of me pressed a hand into her hip and blinked up at me.
“Bree?” It couldn’t be. No fucking way.
“Unless you’re expecting another Bree today, then yeah, it’s me.”
I scrubbed at my face, confused.
“I was a girl the last time you saw me, Jake.” She rolled her eyes like I was acting like a dumbass. Which I fully acknowledged that I was. “I’m a woman now, and those wonderful things known as hips and boobs finally appeared. It’s me.” She snapped her fingers in my face. “Do I have to show you the diamond-shaped birthmark on my leg to prove it?
Okay, the moment was catching up to me. Kind of. This was her. Bree. The woman version, not the kid one I’d kept her boxed in my memory as for all of these years. The boobs and hips comment was messing with me though because now that she’d said it, I was looking.
I shouldn’t have been looking.
But I was.
I didn’t want to stop looking either.
Bree might have been a late bloomer compared to other girls, but once she finally did, she’d gone and done it right. I was a big guy who had huge hands, but I could have squeezed each one of my giant mitts around her tits and had plenty to spare.
What the fuck?
Why was I thinking about that? Why was I picturing it right this very second? This girl had been like a little sister growing up, the girl I remembered jumping rope and blowing bubbles during summer break . . .
God, and now I was picturing her mouth blowing other things.
Her gaze dropped, and if she noticed my cock swelling behind my zipper, she gave no indication.
“So?” She leaned into the doorframe and crossed her arms around her waist. “Do I need to hike my skirt up and prove to you it’s me? Or are you going to invite me in sometime today?”
The skirt-lifting thing was tempting. But she did that
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