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Damn. Of all the women to get my blood racing, I only had to fantasize about the ass that belongs to my brother from another mother.
“You’re back for good now?” His voice is low and tempered.
“Yeah, I moved back in with the folks this morning until I find something for myself.Divorce is final.”
“Mmm.” Dash nods. He spins his head. “Hey, Jolie. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Joey is here? I dart my eyes around the tables. How did I miss her?
That’s when, as if I’m watching a shampoo commercial, the long blonde locks fold over on themselves in bolts of golden satin. Soft honey melts over her shoulder and the back I’ve been admiring…
I glance quickly at Dash to see if he’s looking at the same woman I am.
He is.
My perfect peach stands, turns fully, and there, all grown up like a goddamn signet to a swan, is Jolie Hunter. I haven’t been peeping at Dash’s woman. I’ve been devouring his sister. It’s been a mighty long time. Long enough for her to grow luscious breasts and a round ass that can fill out a pair of jeans like… well… a woman.
She smiles and pushes some of that glossy hair behind her ear. “Ashton!”
She steps toward me. Her hips sway and switch. Her swollen breasts, so full they must have taken every day of all these years to get like that, lead the way. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you when I came in.”
She holds out her arms for a hug. We’ve hugged before. A million times. Birthdays. Holidays. Any time she was down in the dumps I’d pull her into my arms and try to comfort her. We’re friends, and friends hug.
I haven’t been much of one of those over the years, and my body rages with a heat that tells me I don’t want to be one now. Fuck. I’ll cool down. I will. But when she smashes her tits into me, arms wrapped around my body, giving me her signature bear hug, her breasts do not convince me this is the girl I left behind. And now, the sensual scent that hadme groping her with my eyes in the first place, encircles me like some sort of spell. The fairy godmother has definitely paid her a visit.
I peel myself away from her breasts as soon as I can without being rude. “Joey…”
We stare at each other. Or maybe I stare at her. Smiles are plastered across our faces, and I wonder if her toothy grin is as surprised as mine is. Probably not. She follows hockey. And probably the odd tabloid or two. A sour taste lines my tongue, when I think of Jolie seeing me with Chloe in the news. I don’t know why, but it does.
When did she become so goddamn beautiful? I’ve seen pictures of her, too, over the years. The occasional blog of Jolie with her fuckwit ex. Eric Larose from the New York Huskies. Chloe would occasionally share gossip news with me when Jolie and her ex were mentioned. But truth be told, Jolie always appeared to be miserable in those photos. I figured the paps caught her on a bad day. Or in between smiles. There was nothing in those photos like the glow I see in front of me. And I certainly never noticed her hourglass figure.
I had no fucking clue.
The sound of her voice is as delighted and youthful as I remembered. It’s full of warm energy. I anchor myself to that to stop my gaze from floating back down her body.
“Logan told me you moved back to the Canyon in May,” I say.
“Yeah.” She punches my arm. “Thanks for never coming to see me, Pup.”
Jolie started referring to me as Pup in my junior year of high school as a response to everyone else starting to call me Great Dane. It was cute then. It feels like some sort of petname for the bedroom now, coming from those glossy strawberry lips of hers.
I clear my throat. “Sorry. I was busy having a stiletto shoved up my ass in LA.”
“Sounds kinky,” she says out of puffy lips. Were her lips like that before?
“I wish.”
“It’s been a long time.” She shoves her hands into her back pockets, and her tits push out into the space between us, stealing my oxygen.
I keep my eyes where they belong, but I have to work hard to avoid her perked nipples, pebbled and highly alert under a thin, unbuttoned polo shirt. The chill in the air. That’s all that is. Or maybe she’s happy to see me, too. Goddamn, her cleavage taunts me.
“So…” She rocks on her heels, and her breasts sway enticingly. “Is it good to be back in the Canyon? Or is it going to be too slow here for Hollywood’s hockey boy?” She bats her eyelashes because she just made a cute little dig, but it feels like she’s flirting with me.
She’s not. I know she isn’t. Thirteen years ago, we agreed to be friends. This is just Jolie being… well, Jolie. Sassy. Says whatever comes into her head. And why shouldn’t she be friendly? We’re… friends. Well, if that’s what you can call two people who haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Maybe more like family. Yes. Long-lost family.
Family. Cold showers. Chicken fertilizer. I think of all the things that have the opposite effect on my dick than her luscious frame does.
“Hollywood’s hockey boy?” I chuckle lightly at her comment. If she only knew how much I craved for the simple life of the Canyon so many times while out inCalifornia. “I know you are not accusing me of being a city boy, are you?”
