“Penny for your thoughts?” My voice is shaking. The tension is too much. When I’m within reach, he strikes, capturing me by the waist and pulling me to stand before him. I yelp and then giggle as his eyes glitter over my chest, his breath hot on the triangle between my thighs skimming the surface. My nipples draw tight as his fingers ghost along my hip. He’s still crouched in the shallow end, while I stand above him, his every exhale hitting the thin material at the apex between my legs, whispering over my clit. I fight a moan.
“You want my thoughts?” He whispers roughly, “Is that what you want?”
I slowly dip my chin.
The rumbling of an approaching car snaps me out of my stupor, but Sean drags me right back in when his knuckles drift in a light dance along my stomach.
“I’m thinking we don’t have enough time for this discussion.” His voice is jagged as he tilts his head, his hand pushing the soaked hair away from my chest as he slowly stands to tower above me. He’s so close, the droplets of water like diamonds on his skin. My eyes trace a few scars on his pecs and biceps as I run my tongue along my lower lip, my core tightening in anticipation.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple, his fingers sliding down my shoulder with his whisper. “Thanks for the swim.”
Drawing my brows, I hear the repetitive roar of an engine out front.
“Wait…what about my car?”
“Parked out front.”
“You drove my car here? But you don’t have a key.”
“Worked at a garage, remember?”
“So, you’re a locksmith too?”
His mouth hitches in a smirk. “Sure.”
“Well then, thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” he mimics me perfectly, including the disappointment in my tone. I’d wanted him to kiss me, and the arrogant bastard knew it. I can sense his high from my frustration. He’s playing games. It should anger me, but I like this game too much already. He lifts himself from the pool, grabs his T-shirt and pulls it on. Disappointment thrums through me as he slips on his glasses, pulls a cigarette from his pack, tilts his head, and flicks his Zippo to light it. Glancing down at me, he lets out a plume of smoke. “See you at work.”
“WHAT SWEET HELL IS THIS?” I mutter beneath my breath as I grab another tub. I’m making calculators. Correction, I’m doing quality control on Horner Tech’s newly manufactured calculators. It only took an hour into my shift to make the decision not to piss away college and start critically thinking about my future. This is not my dream job, not by a long shot. Not long after I started my shift, I formed a respect for my co-workers. I’m sure it’s not their dream job either, but they do it religiously to provide for their families, and in no way can I fault them, nor judge them for that, regardless of how unsatisfying the work is for me.
But this can’t be my future.
I’ll go fucking insane. Three hours in, I’m glancing at my watch and again cursing the position I’m in. A year of this?
Not only that, I’ve been commissioned to work with the Chatty Cathy next to me, who appears to be the plant gossip and works at the speed of light, making me look like a fumbling toddler. All I have to do is give her a nod and she seems satisfied with the return conversation.
It’s when I’m in my fourth hour that I smell the familiar scent of cedar and nicotine. His breath hits my ear.
“How’s it going, Pup?”
I turn to see Sean mirroring me in wardrobe, khakis, and a short-sleeved collared button-down, which doesn’t do a damn thing to take away from his appeal. He’s got a clipboard in hand as he grins down at me. Ms. Chatterbox’s eyes volley between us, her interest piqued at the exchange.
“Pure adrenaline,” I deadpan, and he laughs as I scratch my ear beneath my hairnet.
“You need tunes,” he says, eyes widening at the woman beside me. He must be aware she’s got a motor mouth.
“I thought those weren’t allowed?”
“We might be able to work around it.”
Sean is technically my supervisor, which will make the job more bearable. He told me he worked at the plant for several consecutive years prior, earning him seniority, which he didn’t lose when he left. He’d only attended orientation that day as a formality and to brush up on plant policies. And right now, I can’t think of a better position to be in than beneath him.
We silently stare off until he nods past my shoulder. “Missed one.”
“You’re distracting me,” I say cheekily.
“Good to know,” he gifts me a slow wink. “See you in a bit.”
When he’s at a safe distance, Chatty, whose real name is Melinda, gives me the side-eye as she grabs another tub from the stack just dropped off at our station. “How do you know Sean?”
I shrug, stacking up the empty tubs. “We met yesterday at orientation.”
“You be careful with him. And steer clear of his friends, that dark one they call the Frenchman,” she leans in, “I’ve heard…things about him.”
“Really?”
The Frenchman.
It has to be Dominic she’s speaking about. I detected a hint of an accent when he spoke and have little doubt there’s truth to her warning. I’d been introduced to that infuriatingly gorgeous, dark cloud last night. He’s the mirror opposite of the spiked sunray that’s been taking up my thoughts today.
Melinda looks to be in her early forties. Everything about her screams of southern values. From her old school perm to her high-waisted mom jeans to the cross draped around her neck. After just a few short hours of listening to her, my conclusion is that she’s not only the plant gossip but the town gossip as well, and no secret of mine will ever be safe with her. I have no doubt I’ll make it into her future dinner conversations.
“Yeah. They don’t mess around. Fast cars, parties, drugs, and girls.” She leans in close. “I hear they share women.”
This bit of news is far more interesting than her dear friend Patricia’s boating accident last year and the fate of her eleven-year-old cocker spaniel. “Really?”
She leans in even closer. “I hear they smoke the weed.”
I can’t help my giggle. “That wacky tobacky, huh?”
She narrows her eyes at my condescension. “I’m just saying, be careful. One of them got ahold of my cousin’s goddaughter, and let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty.”
I can’t help my bite.
“What happened to her?”
“No one really knows, and no one has heard from her in months. That boy broke her heart so bad she rarely comes home anymore.”
She pulls her cell phone from her pocket, darting her eyes around because phones are forbidden on the plant floor. She scrolls through before she lifts a picture. It’s from a social media profile and the girl displayed on the screen is gorgeous. I tell her as much.
“She was the pride of my cousin, but once he got his hooks into her, she changed. I don’t know.” She glances over her shoulder. “Those boys, pretty as they are, I think might have the devil inside them.”
From my first and second impressions, I find it hard to believe that’s true of Sean, but Dominic might be a different story.