Page 67 of Collateral Damage
“Bree?” I scoff. “No way.” I’ve heard all kinds of stories about how territorial she is. No thanks. I like my women commitment-phobic, same as me.
“Bree’s cool,” Perry assures me. “And she’s a freak in bed.”
“You slept with Bree?” I grimace. “I’mdefinitelynot interested.”
“It was years ago and only one time, but it was memorable.” He waggles his thick eyebrows. “She’ll make you feel better, I promise.”
I eye her wearily, my gaze slipping over the curve of her hips and the press of her breasts against her tight dress as she sways to the music. Maybe he’s right. I have a rotation of willing partners in Boston and New York, but there’s not as many on Nantucket, and I’ve barely called anyone up lately.
“Think about it, but if you don’t want Bree, let me know.” Perry broke up with his college girlfriend four months ago. The man is hurting, too.
“Go talk to her.”
Perry takes another drink, then leaves me standing at the bar to flirt with a group of girls who just walked through the door instead of going to talk to Bree.
What a guy.
He doesn’t know what to do with me—none of my friends do. They’re so used to me being the fun one, the positive one, the easy-going life of the party. I haven’t been any of those things lately. They’ve all noticed, even Ethan, who’s been living in his own world of denial. He’s decided to gun for top of our class. Good for him, but he’s already been hand-selected to be the next CEO of King, so what’s the point? If he got a C in a class, would it hurt his future? Nope.
Maybe Perry is right. I need a distraction, and Bree looks like the perfect one for the job.
Swallowing the last bit of my whiskey, I leave the glass on the bar top and watch Bree. Let’s see how long it takes for her to notice me. Less than a minute later, our eyes lock. When she moistens her lips and smirks suggestively, my cock jerks in response.
Fuck it. I’ll do anything to feel better at this point. At least it’s not drugs.
I stride to the dance floor, and she greets me with a breathy, “Hey there.” Her arms wrap around my neck instantly as we start moving together. Up close, her tanned-skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, and I have the sudden urge to lick her up and down to see if she’s more sweet or more salt.
This is who I am. I’m the playboy.
Good for a fun night.
Not boyfriend material.
It’s time to suck it up and embrace my true self.
Thirty
Cooper
Past - Age 23
I wake up in Bree’s bed the next morning, my head pounding and mouth as dry as sandpaper. I let her take me to her place. There was no way I was getting behind the wheel, and she swore she wasn’t drinking. As a personal rule, I don’t fuck drunk women, especially not drunk strangers.
I’m half in and half out of Bree’s yellow comforter. She’s gorgeous and leggy, with her hair fanned across the pillowcase like a raven’s wing.
I feel nothing for her. I barely even know the girl, and I’m not staying for breakfast. I shouldn’t have come home with her at all. I know better than to hook up with a clingy woman when I have zero intentions of making her my girlfriend.
Sliding from her warmth, the woman’s eyes pop open, and she sits up as I get myself dressed.
“Where are you going, baby?”
“This was fun.” I give her a smile. “But I need to get home.”
She holds up a hand. “Let me stop you right there.”
Well, shit.
“You probably think I want to date you, but I don’t. I’m only here for the summer, and I want to have fun and be with whoever I want to be with.” She gives me a coy smile. “I’ve heard you’re the same way. As long as everyone uses protection, I shouldn’t be shamed for that, and neither should you. We can have fun together and have fun with other people. What do you think?”
