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“Salad isn’t enough.” Jack finally stands straight, his t-shirt tugging over his chest as he inhales. “You’ve lost more weight since I saw you last.”
“Not really,” I lie again and I can see from his look he’s not buying it.
He grunts something unintelligible as his cell rings on the counter. He shifts, leaning against the counter behind him and taps the screen, putting the call on speaker.
“Yeah?”
“Hey boss.” It’s a female and immediately a roar of jealously spikes inside of me. “We’ve got the Rosenoff party boarding The Tripoli and they are saying they were promised five hours, not three. I’ve got your manifest here saying leave the dock by six, return by nine.”
“Yeah, it’s a signed contract.”
“Well, the dad is adamant and wants to talk to you. We don’t have enough fuel for the other two hours and the harbor master’s station is closed. He’s pissed and we’ve tried to calm him down but he’s making a big scene. The daughter is crying, the mom is yelling…and all of them are already pretty lit.”
Jack looks at me as I turn, my cheeks hot as he catches me staring again.
“Fine.” He grunts, squeezing his forehead. “I’ll be there in ten. Just calm them down best you can, tell them I’m on my way.” He clicks off and pulls his lips tight against his teeth on an exhale. “You wanna stay here, or come down and start working with me? Show you the glitz and glamour of the charter industry?”
He pushes off the counter, stuffing his hands down in his jeans pockets, and once again I take note of the thick pole of cock behind his zipper.
“Let’s get to work. Teach me, sensei.” I give him a little bow and he makes this sound like a pained sigh.
He tips his head toward the door. “Shorts are okay, but here…” He tosses another one of his company t-shirts my way. “Put that on.” He gives me one last hard look, scanning my chest before opening the door and waving me outside. “You’ll cause a riot with that swimsuit. That’s not for public viewing. Ever.”
I take a deep breath as I let the t-shirt fall over my head. It smells like Jack. The scent of the lake, his spicy cologne and whatever else it is about his natural scent that always puts me into orbit.
The short drive to the marina, Jack stares straight ahead but there’s something different about him. He’s always been quiet, brooding, but this is more tense, like when you’re waiting to have a difficult conversation and neither person knows how to begin.
He’s uncomfortable. He keeps switching his hands on the steering wheel, running one through his hair, shifting his body in the seat. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to upset him, but I can’t take the discomfort anymore.
“Did I do something to make you mad?”
He flips his head around, glaring at me, and my stomach drops a thousand feet. “What? What could you have possibly done to make me mad?”
His question is harsh and it only sends me a little deeper into the darkness that’s cloaking me.
On a shrug, I pull on the fingers of one hand with my other. “I’m not sure. You just seem upset.”
His chest rises and falls with a heavy breath, turning his eyes back toward the road, tension hardening the muscles in his arms as they lock straight, gripping the wheel.
“I’m not mad. Not at you.”
“Something else? You can tell me.”
His face softens the slightest bit, his eyes flicking to my face, then to my tits, lingering a moment before they snap back to the road. “I’m always mad about something. Thought you’d know that by now.”
A shiver dances through me as dampness pools between my legs. His arms are everything. The hard biceps, the movement of the muscles and tendons in his forearms, that twitch of his triceps. He’s not super cut like some gym-rat guys. He’s more beefy, a thickness around his middle, his torso only making him sexier to me. But, dang, his arms, they are every kind of panty-melting dream come true.
God, I want him so much, and from what I can tell, he’s just indifferent to me. At least in that way.
“Yes. I’ve noticed.” I force a smile as he looks at me again with such intensity in his dark eyes. Hunger maybe? His eyes drift up and down and goosebumps rise, my nipples tingling and hardening, pushing out through the bathing suit top and t-shirt.
He takes a turn into the marina and while he rolls his window down to talk to the security guard at the gate, I let my own gaze drift. It’s not just his arms that are hard, and once again, I wonder if he maybe has some medical condition that makes him like this all the time. I can’t remember a time in the last couple years that I didn’t notice that thickness behind his pants. The outline of something with a girth that makes my insides rearrange as a clutch in my core sends a blast of heat over my skin.
