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with one arm. Our tongues search for each
other's mouth at exactly the same time, and I'm filled with a desperate ache
that I've never known before.
    Suddenly, he pulls his face away
and drops me back on the dock. I open my eyes and look up at him in shock.
    "You just let me know when you
want to keep going," he murmurs, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
I'm too outraged to say anything as he turns on his heel and walks back toward
the party.
    Son of a bitch , I think as I
grind my teeth. He's got me right where he wants me.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    "You hungover or something? Steal some champagne last
night?" Silvio asks through the window, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
    "Huh?" He looks down at the BLT that's sitting
between us. "Oh, right." I pick up the plate and hustle over to Table
4, wondering how long the sandwich had been sitting there.
    "Well?" he asks as I return to my spot behind the
counter.
    "Just tired," I reply. Which is true…I'm
exhausted. I kept waking up sweating from dreams of Jack's hands all over me,
and as soon as I'd fall asleep, another one would wake me up again. "Why
didn't you guys go?"
    "Not really our kind of party," Silvio answers.
    "They let Stratton go?" Andrè asks, appearing at
the window next to his brother.
    "Yeah…wait, what do you mean? Why wouldn't they?"
I frown, turning toward him with my arms crossed over my chest.
    "Those pictures," Silvio says, letting out a low
whistle while he and Andrè glance at each other, shaking their heads.
    "What pictures?"
    "You didn't see? Came out yesterday afternoon. I
figured he'd be on lockdown," Silvio says.
    "Photos of Jack in a bar, doing body shots off a
topless girl while another one's got his jersey on," Andrè fills me in.
    "No way," I say incredulously. "Seriously?
Wearing his jersey?"
    "I'm telling you," Andrè says. "And you said
he was supposed to be taking it easy, so I thought for sure he wasn't even
allowed to go out now."
    "Well, the party was at our house," I reply,
chewing my lip. "And these pictures came out yesterday afternoon?"
    "Yeah, he's gotta be on his best behavior now,"
Silvio says, though he clearly enjoys the thought of Jack's antics.
    I grab the water pitcher to refill a table's glasses as I
feel steam rise from my ears. Jack's proposal last night wasn't about me at
all…he just needs a girl, any girl, close to home because he can't go out
anymore. Ugh, what a man-whore.
    By the time we close up, the sun's been down for well over
an hour. I hurry home, anger fueled-adrenaline coursing through my veins. I
need to work it off. In my bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts, a sports bra, a
t-shirt, and my old sneakers. I wrap the belt that Carter gave me around my
waist, like I promised him I always would, and pull my t-shirt over it. I
hustle down to the kitchen, take a quick sip of water so that I don't get
dehydrated, and side-step Jack as he emerges from his workout in the basement
gym.
    "Where are you going?" he asks as I walk quickly
toward the front door.
    "A run!" I call back without stopping.
    "It's dark out!" he protests, walking after me
down the marble hallway.
    "I have a knife!" I reply, pausing to turn around
and reveal the sheath strapped to the belt that Carter gave me.
    "What the fuck, Bree!?" Jack exclaims as I shut
the front door behind me. I roll my eyes as I hear the front door open and his
footsteps following me as I begin to jog. "What the hell are you doing
with that thing?"
    "Carter gave it to me so I could protect myself,"
I explain. "He showed me how to use it, obviously."
    "What if—"
    "Jack. This is a gated community. I think I'll be
fine." I frown as he continues to run next to me, and pick up my pace.
    "You seriously trying to lose me? I'm a professional
athlete." I stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him. "You
do have some pretty good speed, though."
    "Yeah, well, I'm the daughter of a professional
athlete," I growl.
    "You ever think of going into sports?"
    "Absolutely not," I reply