Read Online Just Give In… by Kathleen O'Reilly - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathleen O'Reilly
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puppy, probably three, and lots and lots of cats.”
He sat down next to her. “You didn’t have any growing up?”
“No. You?”
“We had one dog for…I don’t know. It seemed like forever.”
“What was his name?”
“Dog.”
Brooke laughed and he smiled back. Then, with an absent shake of the head he stood. “Maybe I’ll get another one. When I’m ready.”
Realizing the moment had passed, Brooke stood, too, following him out of the room. “You know, I’ve been thinking about the hardware in the kitchen. Now, before you start to argue, hear me out…”
T HE NEXT MORNING , Brooke woke up alone. Outside, she could hear the Captain whistling, the intermittent sound of a drill and birdsong. For a few minutes, she allowed herself to be lazy, to twist up in the sheets and bury her head in the Captain’s pillow.
Here, in his bed, the scent of him surrounded her and comforted her. This was Texas, this was home. This odd combination of dusty land and fresh-cut wood and welded metal and burned scrambled eggs.
She hugged the pillow closer, breathing deeply of the other scent, the musky smell of sex.
Once again last night he had tried to sleep in the shed. Unfortunately, her face had gotten sunburned yesterday and she needed help applying cream to the afflicted areas. When she remembered his capable hands on her, her fingers skimmed over her breasts, and while there was the standard biological response, she didn’t experience the same kick. The burning heat of his skin was missing, the earnest magic of his mouth. No matter how hard she closed her eyes, the bed was cold without him.
In Brooke’s experience, nothing ever lasted very long and good memories should be stored away carefully, trotted out at bus stations or all-night diners, or when your employer decided that rubbing himself against you was romantic. There weren’t many good memories in Brooke’s life, and being with the Captain was the most decadent memory she’d ever kept.
Men usually didn’t try to be good, but the Captain sure did. Every time he fought against his attraction, she only wanted him more. The hungry way he kissed her, as if he could never have enough. The way he touched her between the legs, the way his gaze grew so heavy as he watched her come. She slipped a finger inside herself, surprised by the throb, surprised by the ache. A void.
Hidden beneath the sheets she touched herself, pleasured herself, temporarily feeling a void she never knew she had. Faster and faster she stroked, finding a mechanical rhythm without hunger and life. Eventually the bubble inside her burst and her muscles shuddered and then relaxed.
Quickly she got out of bed and straightened the sheets. After cleaning up in the bathroom, she dressed for the day, but unfortunately, the void inside her remained.
T HERE WAS BREAKFAST on the table. The Captain had attempted scrambled eggs. Next to the plate was an envelope with her name on it. Curious, Brooke drew out the single sheet of paper and twenty fifty-dollar bills. They seemed to be real. Not sure what to make of this, Brooke read over the invoice. Apparently the Captain was paying her for three days work, plus an advance against her salary.
At the bottom, in neat letters, he’d handwritten Buy New Shoes.
Brooke laughed and folded up the invoice, wondering who bought thousand-dollar shoes. However, she wasn’t going to take his advance, only the money she’d earned. After removing one fifty and folding it in her pocket, she hid the other nineteen bills in a Mason jar in his cabinets, buried somewhere between oversize eye bolts and a Russian Geiger counter. Someday he’d find his money, but not today.
As soon as she hit the front porch, he pointed to a floppy hat that was hanging on the rail. “You need to wear that today.”
The hat was too big, and the camouflage pattern wasn’t something she would have chosen for herself. However, until she could buy something suitable,
He sat down next to her. “You didn’t have any growing up?”
“No. You?”
“We had one dog for…I don’t know. It seemed like forever.”
“What was his name?”
“Dog.”
Brooke laughed and he smiled back. Then, with an absent shake of the head he stood. “Maybe I’ll get another one. When I’m ready.”
Realizing the moment had passed, Brooke stood, too, following him out of the room. “You know, I’ve been thinking about the hardware in the kitchen. Now, before you start to argue, hear me out…”
T HE NEXT MORNING , Brooke woke up alone. Outside, she could hear the Captain whistling, the intermittent sound of a drill and birdsong. For a few minutes, she allowed herself to be lazy, to twist up in the sheets and bury her head in the Captain’s pillow.
Here, in his bed, the scent of him surrounded her and comforted her. This was Texas, this was home. This odd combination of dusty land and fresh-cut wood and welded metal and burned scrambled eggs.
She hugged the pillow closer, breathing deeply of the other scent, the musky smell of sex.
Once again last night he had tried to sleep in the shed. Unfortunately, her face had gotten sunburned yesterday and she needed help applying cream to the afflicted areas. When she remembered his capable hands on her, her fingers skimmed over her breasts, and while there was the standard biological response, she didn’t experience the same kick. The burning heat of his skin was missing, the earnest magic of his mouth. No matter how hard she closed her eyes, the bed was cold without him.
In Brooke’s experience, nothing ever lasted very long and good memories should be stored away carefully, trotted out at bus stations or all-night diners, or when your employer decided that rubbing himself against you was romantic. There weren’t many good memories in Brooke’s life, and being with the Captain was the most decadent memory she’d ever kept.
Men usually didn’t try to be good, but the Captain sure did. Every time he fought against his attraction, she only wanted him more. The hungry way he kissed her, as if he could never have enough. The way he touched her between the legs, the way his gaze grew so heavy as he watched her come. She slipped a finger inside herself, surprised by the throb, surprised by the ache. A void.
Hidden beneath the sheets she touched herself, pleasured herself, temporarily feeling a void she never knew she had. Faster and faster she stroked, finding a mechanical rhythm without hunger and life. Eventually the bubble inside her burst and her muscles shuddered and then relaxed.
Quickly she got out of bed and straightened the sheets. After cleaning up in the bathroom, she dressed for the day, but unfortunately, the void inside her remained.
T HERE WAS BREAKFAST on the table. The Captain had attempted scrambled eggs. Next to the plate was an envelope with her name on it. Curious, Brooke drew out the single sheet of paper and twenty fifty-dollar bills. They seemed to be real. Not sure what to make of this, Brooke read over the invoice. Apparently the Captain was paying her for three days work, plus an advance against her salary.
At the bottom, in neat letters, he’d handwritten Buy New Shoes.
Brooke laughed and folded up the invoice, wondering who bought thousand-dollar shoes. However, she wasn’t going to take his advance, only the money she’d earned. After removing one fifty and folding it in her pocket, she hid the other nineteen bills in a Mason jar in his cabinets, buried somewhere between oversize eye bolts and a Russian Geiger counter. Someday he’d find his money, but not today.
As soon as she hit the front porch, he pointed to a floppy hat that was hanging on the rail. “You need to wear that today.”
The hat was too big, and the camouflage pattern wasn’t something she would have chosen for herself. However, until she could buy something suitable,
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