Page 45 of Mostly My Girlfriend
She smiled then and I knew I had her. “Okay, fine. I’ll go to Fiji with you, but I’m not swimming with sharks. That’s not even a thing.”
“I’ll buy you a string bikini, but if you want, we can both go topless on the yacht.” I wiggled my eyebrows, which probably needed a trim, in her point of view, then she was pulling out of my arms.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
Because Jules was self-conscious about her breasts, which was ridiculous because they were beautiful. Soft, full, round. Immediately, memories of our lone night together stirred in my brain and I had to squash them:
a) because they would make me hard and it would remind me how long it’d been since I’d fucked someone,
b) it would remind me that I really liked fucking Jules.
Too much. I liked it too much. And like anything that was too rich, or too sweet, or too bad for you, it could only be savored in very careful measures. Small bites. Tiny tastes.
I’d tried to take another one of those bites in Paris, but she’d shot me down. It made sense. She’d been with CJ at the time and if I knew anything about Jules, I knew how incredibly loyal she was.
But Fiji would be as far away from Nebraska or Seattle as we could get. She wasn’t seeing anyone now. I knew that because I knew the number of hours she’d been putting in to make the Tokyo airport deal happen. There’d been no time for a social life for either of us.
A vacation. Where, maybe, we could have one of our vacations fromusagain.
If not, I was going to have do something about the whole abstinence thing. I had no plans to live my life as a monk but, somehow, it had just happened. Surely there was someone out there I could drum up enough interest in to get my dick wet. Just because it hadn’t happened for me lately didn’t mean I was dead.
Quite the opposite, judging by the amount of action my hand was getting. It had gotten so bad I’d whacked off the other day with my left hand just for a change of pace.
Jules had to be in the same boat. Didn’t she? Twelve-hour days, little sleep. She looked as tightly wound as she ever had, which on her best day was like a nautical knot.
Except after Daniel’s wedding. After the wedding she’d looked well fucked. God, that night had been hot. Not that I let myself think about it too much. But she’d been naked to me in so many different ways.
I watched Jules walk back around her desk. How sophisticated she looked in her black pencil skirt and white blouse. Her hair was shorter these days, cropped almost to her chin. So buttoned-up, so professional it made me want to run my hands through her hair just to mess it up.
Yes. Some sun, a bikini, lots of vodka…
Her phone was buzzing along her desk and she picked it up and frowned.
Definitely Daniel. I took a deep pull from the bottle I’d opened and let the bubbles fill my mouth. I would deal with whatever disaster Daniel was calling about, then I was getting on the phone with my travel broker.
They had those thatched-roof cabins with the glass floors in Fiji. We would have to do that, too. Maybe hire a diving instructor who could take us out to look for shipwrecks and shit.
Jules turned her back to me. That meant it was probably really bad news. Whenever she had to tell me anything remotely upsetting, she would always get her own expression under control first.
Whatever it was, it couldn’t spoil my mood. We had real estate in the Tokyo airport, and Jules and I were going to go on a real vacation.
I took another swallow of champagne and sat on her desk, waiting for her to deliver the blow.
She put down the phone and looked at me. This time she hadn’t done a very good job of shielding her expression from me. She looked like...
I was immediately on my feet. “Jesus, Jules, what the fuck happened?”
“That was your mom…your father. Oh my God, Ethan.” She put her hands over her mouth like it was too horrible to say.
“What?!”
“He…he died.”
