Page 31 of Shark’s Edge

I stared at her for several long beats, waiting just long enough to make her uncomfortable with the silence.

Across the field, the official blew the whistle to commence the second half of the Blue Jays’ game.

Goddammit.

“I need to get back to my niece’s soccer game.” I thumbed over my shoulder toward the field. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

“It appears to be just that, Mr. Shark. And if you need me to formally withdraw my bid for the contract at the Edge, I’ll understand. Do you need that in writing? I can email something over when I get home today.”

“I said this conversation isn’t over, Ms. Gibson. That means it isn’t over.” The last few words of the comment were delivered through gritted teeth. She was pissing me off, and my fuse was already short because I wasn’t feeling well. “I’ll talk to you after the game.” I quickly turned and walked away before she could sass back with another remark.

I sent a text to Elijah on my way back to the bleachers, asking him to find her home address anyway. In the event she decided to leave before we had a chance to finish our conversation, I wasn’t above showing up at her door to say what I needed to say. Abbigail needed to hear that I didn’t initiate getting the authorities involved with the food-poisoning situation.

There was no logical explanation why I cared that she knew the truth. But the longer I sat and watched the soccer game, the more amped up I became. I kept sneaking glances over to the snack bar where she worked, and as often as I did, I’d find her staring back. She’d quickly avert her eyes but always a few seconds too late.

When I finally held her gaze, imprinting my dark and lustful thoughts onto her body from across an acre of sports park greenbelt, my cock throbbed to life in my thin shorts. I narrowed my eyes, willing her to feel my breath on her skin, imagine my fingers on her flesh like they had been the other day in my office. I wanted her to sense my dirty intentions, even though there was physical distance between us.

She fluttered a hand to her throat but remained locked in my stare. I could see the rise and fall of her chest beneath the filmy tank top she wore. Her pale skin was already pink from the sun and heat, but a darker flush spread like a storm making landfall.

She broke eye contact and dropped down to busy herself with some task below the counter. I instantly dreamed up several things she could do at that level if I were standing there beside her. If she were on her knees in front of me, looking up at me with those wild green eyes, begging to suck me off, maybe?

All right, Little Red. Just this once. And only because you’ve been taunting me with this perfect, sinful mouth. These plush, pillowy lips.

Of course she’d argue. She always argued. But I’d stop her by shoving my cock past her tongue until she gagged. Now you better make it worth it. And you better take all of me. I’d make her gag again until tears sprung from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

God, the tears. Why am I so turned on by her tears?

Pia shot to her feet, cheering enthusiastically. “That’s my girl! Nice save, honey!”

Without thinking, I did the same thing—and then just as quickly sat down, frantically looking for something to cover my lap.

Jesus Christ. Shit. Shit!

I looked around wildly, hoping like hell no one saw the ridiculous woody I was sporting when I stood up. The shorts I wore left nothing to the imagination, and for Christ’s sake, I was at a little girls’ soccer game. I’d be arrested if I didn’t get myself under control.

“Wow, that was an amazing save,” my sister said as she sat down beside me. “Not that you’ve seen anything for the past ten minutes.”

“What are you talking about?” I acted offended, but she was totally right. I didn’t even know what the score was.

“I haven’t seen you so preoccupied with a female since you were a teenager.” Pia kept her eyes on the field while she spoke, probably because she knew if she gave me the full hot seat treatment I’d turn feral.

“I’m not preoccupied.”

“Cut the shit, Bas. It’s me. Don’t insult me, or our history, by lying to me.”

I couldn’t even meet her expectant stare. She was right, and I had nothing to add in the way of defense. I couldn’t explain the draw I had to that girl in the snack shack. I couldn’t explain why even though I’d already told the police that I personally didn’t suspect her of a crime, I hadn’t ordered them to stand down completely on the case. And why the thought of being the one who made her squirm while fearing the fate of her guilt or innocence made my body light up with unadulterated excitement. And I certainly couldn’t explain why I wanted nothing more than to have her moaning my name while she shattered with the wildest orgasm of her life while speared on my dick.

“You’re right, I’m an asshole, Pia. I’m sorry. And that’s the second time I’ve had to apologize to you today. Maybe I should’ve stayed home.”

She put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed me closer to her. “Your secret’s safe with me, brother. Everyone will still think you’re the big bad wolf in town. No worries. But now, that’s the final whistle, and here comes our Blue Jay.”

As she said it, the referee blew three long toots on her whistle, ending the game. The kids came off the field, high-fiving each other and the coach after a big win over their opponent. I kept my eye on Naya’s dad to see how he handled his child after the game.

“Daddy, we won!” She looked up to him, smiling along with her teammates.

“Well, you really need to work on your passing more at home. It’s sloppy. You made some crucial mistakes in the first half.” He didn’t even look at her while he issued the criticism.

My hands curled into fists. She was eight years old, for Christ’s sake. I could feel her pain inside my own heart.