The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1) - Page 83

“Fuck …” He pulled away breathless as his forehead hit the door just behind my shoulder. “You are killing me.”

I grinned, teasing the nape of his neck with my fingers. Killing Fisher wasn’t my intention, but I didn’t exactly not like it either. My confidence feasted on his words.

“When is dinner?” He lifted his head. “Because I already know this erection is going to last more than four hours. I might need a trip to urgent care.” He reached for my legs, forcing me to unlock them so he could set me on my feet. “Now, go tell them I’m on my way. In four hours.” He sauntered to his bathroom.

“Are you going to …”

He glanced back at me as I wrinkled my nose and bit my lip. “Rub one off? Yes. Fuck yes. It’s the only way I’ll make it to dinner.”

“Do you want me to—”

“Nope. I’ve got it.” He shut the bathroom door and locked it.

I covered my mouth and squealed into my cupped hands. So much dopamine in my veins. Fisher was the most glorious addiction. And I wanted him. All of him. And I knew what that meant, but I didn’t care. I wanted to have sex with Fisher. Lots of naked fisherman sex. And after that? I didn’t know. I just knew we’d figure it out a day at a time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I ran from the bottom of the stairs to my bathroom.

“Fisher …” I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. He totally destroyed my hair. And my face, neck, and chest had a severe case of whisker burn. So I splashed lots of water on my face and reapplied my makeup. Then, I buttoned my blouse to the top and tied a lightweight scarf around my neck.

“Sorry. Fisher was still in the shower, so I had to wait for him to get out so I could tell him dinner was ready.” The lies came way too easily.

“Cute scarf,” Rose said.

I touched my scarf, making sure it was coving my neck. “Thanks.”

“Your mom said you work for Fisher, is that correct?” Tiffany asked as I took a seat on the sectional, the spot where I slept with Fisher. Tiffany sat at the opposite end.

“Yes, for now.” I persuaded my lips to curl into a smile for Fisher’s date.

“What’s it like working for him? He’s such a perfectionist. I bet it’s intense.” Tiffany sipped her sangria that Rory made.

“Yes, what’s it like?” Fisher appeared in the doorway, giving me a serious expression as he sat on the sofa, not too close to me, but definitely closer to me than Tiffany.

“It’s like working for a man child.” I gave him a toothy smile.

Rory and Rose laughed, rocking in the only two rockers on the porch. Tiffany seemed uneasy. Her gaze ping-ponged between me and Fisher.

“Brave girl.” She cringed. “I’d never talk to my boss like that.”

Fisher leaned forward and grabbed a glass of sangria from the tray. “I’ll fire her on Monday.”

“Oh, Fisher. Do you want to go with me to the Jensen’s this week? I messaged them, and they’re out of town this week, but they gave me their door code and said we can stop by anytime.”

Fisher sipped his sangria before rubbing his lips together and nodding. “Let me check my schedule and see how my week goes.”

“Absolutely. I’m really flexible.”

“And by flexible, she means she does yoga.” Rose threw Tiffany under the bus.

Rory laughed. Fisher smirked with slight amusement. Tiffany turned as red as the sangria. And I grinned past my clenched teeth.

“I know you won’t, but I’m fine with you having a glass of sangria if you’d like to try it, Reese.” Rory nodded to the last glass on the tray.

“My mom wasn’t near as cool as your mom, Reese,” Rose said. “It’s the best sangria. Try it.”

“Don’t push her.” Rory shot Rose a look. “She’s accustomed to a more conservative lifestyle, and we need to respect that.” Rory worked overtime trying to convince everyone, including me, that I wouldn’t or maybe shouldn’t try the sangria.

“I’ll try it.” I shrugged.

Fisher leaned forward again and handed me the last glass.

“Thanks,” I murmured, giving him a quick glance.

“Nice scarf,” he said so only I could hear him.

My eyes narrowed a fraction as I sipped my drink.

“Well?” Rory waited for my response to the sangria.

“It’s really good.”

“Easy, lightweight,” Fisher said, eliciting laughter.

I lifted my foot onto the sofa and kicked the side of his leg.

He grabbed my ankle and held it, nearly making me spill my drink as I tried to break free from his grip.

“Now … now … kids.” Rory rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find these two acting like siblings when I got home from California. We have guests. I don’t need you two wrestling around on the floor.”

Fisher released my ankle, but his touch lingered on my skin. I liked his hands on me. So very much.

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Fisherman Romance
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