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“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, and there was more heat in my tone than usual, which was what had Meech cocking an eyebrow.
“Well, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”
I glared at him. “Out of all the bars out there, why the fuck did we go to that one?”
“Which one? The Rave?” He shrugged. “It’s not rocket science. It’s a college bar. And college girls are hot. Thought you would find something good there.”
“They’re also young enough to be your fucking children,” I spat out. It was an exaggeration, considering both Meech and I were only thirty-five. But still, fuck, those girls were young. All bright eyes and coquettish winks and shit that I had no business being around.
I hadn’t known it was a college bar when I’d gone, although all the girls looked immature. At my age, college girls did nothing for me. Also, at this point, I only had one-night stands, and I only had them with more experienced women—women who knew the score. Women who wouldn’t be fluttering their eyelashes at me in the morning.
All the women last night were too young, too loud, too everything. But last night, I needed something to ease the gnawing in my gut and the physical need that arose and became more and more unbearable, especially because I was here again. In Shindley.
And then, she was there.
She was coming down the hallway when I got out of the bathroom. I couldn’t see much of her except for those eyes, a hazel glow.
“Hey, handsome,” she had said in a sultry voice that sent desire ratcheting down my spine. “Looking for something? Or someone?”
It was a confident line, seemingly coming from an experienced woman. So I hadn’t hesitated then.
“You legal?” I asked.
“Yup,” she said.
“Down for a quick fuck?”
She was silent for a few seconds, then she replied with an even sexier purr, “Yes.”
And that was it.
I didn’t know who the fuck she was, and at the time, I didn’t care. I took her to a dark room, but even if I’d seen her in the light, I wasn’t sure I would have known who she was. She was taller and more filled out compared to when she was fourteen. She’d essentially been a child then, but now she was a full-grown fucking woman. And then, when I kissed her…fuck, did she kiss like a siren. She’d tasted good, too good, her tongue tangling with mine in a heady, sensual dance.
Maybe it was the alcohol enhancing the desire or the fact that I’d gone too long without a woman, but I couldn’t even think of much past the aching in my cock and the fact that I wanted to drag her to the darkest corner of the place so I could fuck her into oblivion.
My dead wife’s sister. Little Charlie.
Fucking dirty old man.
I ignored Meech and immediately slammed the door shut before heading down to the basement. The sex hadn’t released the tension as it should have. In fact, it only added to it, and now I needed to work off all this excess energy. Luckily, I got a punching bag hanging down in the basement, next to an elaborately built boxing ring, waiting for me.
I stripped out of my shirt and didn’t bother putting on gloves before I methodically started taking my fury out on the bag.
Fucking Charlotte Mulin.
When the fuck had she grown up? The last time I saw the kid, she was all gangly with light fiery hair and blue eyes and freckles on her cheek. Both her hair and eyes seemed to have changed color with age. Also, not to mention her body, now with soft womanly curves. A body made for sin. And I stupidly fucked her.
I felt like a fucking pedophile, first of all. And then there was the added taboo of who she was. The fact that she was the sister of my dead wife added a splash of insult to injury.
I felt my muscles start to ache as the bag rattled on the chains. There were traces of blood on the bag, which meant I’d probably busted open a knuckle, but I didn’t stop. I had no clue how many minutes I spent punishing the bag, but eventually, the door behind me opened.
I didn’t turn around, but I sensed Meech standing there silently. I didn’t acknowledge his presence or talk to him either as I continued to hit and punch away at the bag.
“You want to talk about it?” Meech finally asked though he sounded wryly uncomfortable with the idea.
I ignored him, hoping that would give him a hint. But Meech had never been one to give up easily.
“I can make us some tea, and we can paint our nails while we talk about our feelings.”
