Page 24 of Dealing Dirty
I snort. “Of course, I do. A good lot of them frequent The Pound.” At her widening eyes, I add, “Not the overly dangerous ones.”
“Well, this guy is going to give me a run for my money.”
“What’s his deal?”
I love the way her face lights when she gets excited about a case. “He’s slippery. Every time I think I’ve got him, he somehow gets away or there’s some sort of diversion that keeps me from getting too close. I thought I might have gotten eyes on him downtown, escorting a lady of the streets into a sketchy club, but I wasn’t confident enough to make the move.”
My cheek twitches. “Lady of the streets?”
“Yeah, you know…” She motions to her assets, adding a little body roll for effect.
“Oh my God. Yes! I get it.” I clap a hand over my eyes. “Please,neverdo that again.”
Finishing her chocolate, she stretches her arms overhead and lets out a big yawn. I beat her with a bigger one.
“Show off,” she mutters.
I throw my weight into the bottom of my chair, lowering the leg rest so I can stand. “Alright, Sash. Time for bed.”
Reaching for her hand, I pull her to standing, and once she’s upright, she wraps her arm around my middle. Sasha’s auburn hair smells like cotton candy, and an overwhelming surge of warmth takes root in my chest. I’m used to towering over people, but it’s been a long time since I’ve looked down at her this way.
“It’s good to have you back, sis.”
She squeezes me tight before heading to the spare bedroom, and slowly, I drag my feet toward my own.
The door slides shut behind me. I rest my head against it, the stress I’ve been under lately pulling my shoulders down with the weight of a hundred bricks. The last few days, strange things have been happening around the bar, and it’s making Jack even more antsy.
First, there was the slashed tire. Then yesterday, I spent hours scrubbing and repainting the outside of the bar where it had been tagged with spray paint. Someone is fucking with us, and I’ve got an inkling who’s behind it.
I rip my shirt off over my head and toss it onto the floor next to the foot of my king-sized bed. I was twenty-five when I bought the thing and was chasing tail every weekend with Jack and Ben. I’ve done things that would make a nun blush.
Still, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be caught with a girl in my bed the next morning. But then, I’d never craved that comfort and closeness. Now, I’m thirty-two, and the nights are bitter and lonely, and there’s an omnipresent longing for a woman’s warmth.
I eyeball the half-empty bottle of oil on my bedside table before flipping off the light. The sheets are wrinkled and cool to the touch. I slide in between them and stare up at the darkness. This big empty bed is a constant reminder of what little intimacy I’ve had lately. When was the last time I even had sex?
My dick jumps with excitement.
The thin sheets rustle as I shift to lie on my stomach, hoping to forget my hard-on. Being around Juliana almost every day makes the sexual tension all the worse between us. It’s not her fault she’s a goddamn smokeshow. And here I am, the big, lanky goof pining after her in secret.
I shut my eyes and breathe a sigh.
Maybe I just need a good lay?
It’ll be just like those old days with Jack and Ben. I’ll bring a rando home from the bar and get that release I’m desperately needing. Bonus if she gets these wicked thoughts of Juliana out of my head. It’s been an entire agonizing week since that heated conversation in my truck, and her avoidance only makes me desire her more.
The ceiling fan makes a repetitive ticking noise that grates on my frayed nerves, the silence in the room amplifying with each click. I’m restless, tossing back and forth as the covers suffocate me with my body heat.
Grabbing a pillow, I fold it around my head to drown out her intoxicating laughter dancing through my mind. The sound takes on life as a vision of Juliana in red lacy lingerie forms behind my eyelids. She slides her hands over the straps of her garters, hooking a thumb under the material that holds up her fishnet stockings. She pops it with a teasing smile, and I answer her with a pained groan.
My vision of her crooks her finger. I’m defenseless as I follow her snake charmer’s song, and once I reach for her, she cups her palm over the front of my shorts. Gliding her fingers along the length of my dick, she flicks her big brown eyes up to mine, releasing the tiniest gasp.
I’m harder than a steel pipe, torturing myself by fighting my desire. I grip the sheets between my fingers, and the usually soft material turns scratchy. It felt different when I was getting off to my memories of her before—they werememories. Ones I’d never thought could bloom into reality.
It’s almost too real now. The Juliana I’m imagining is a spitting image of the one I’ve come to know in real life. How am I going to face her again knowing what I’m about to do?
I grunt, giving in and grabbing a pump of oil. A deep breath whooshes from my chest when I reach underneath the waistband of my shorts.
I’ve imagined Juliana many ways, but this time…
