Chapter 8
POV Jack
Clayre Freburg has a shy smile, her eyes blink faster when she's confused, and every time I see her, it feels like someone kicked me in the gut. It’s like slowly letting yourself drown but still wanting to fight for air. She definitely brings out my bad side, and I absolutely love unleashing it. Every time we’re close, my body reacts to her scent, to her smile. Kal just screwed my life over by suggesting she work here.
Earlier today, when I saw her walk in with her feet dusty with sand, it brought a sense of mischief, of chance, mixed with the desire that coursed through my body as I relentlessly touched her delicate face. For long seconds, I wanted to kiss her, to taste the texture of her skin, to feel her small, slender hands wandering over my body. I’m tempted to sin—something about her constant stubbornness to hide, to avoid meeting me in the apartment hallways, or being trapped in my gaze fuels this carnal desire. Of course, all of this messes with my mind, but I’ve been watching silently.
I noticed her love for apples and wanted to craft a beer with that flavor—something that reminds me of sin or the forbidden sensations that arise every time we’re like this, cornered, with nowhere to escape. I want to know more about her, understand why she feels sadness and how much of it she allows to show in her eyes.
Clayre jumps out of the chair, slipping her hand into the pink satin dress that highlights the curves of her body and exposes her full breasts even more. They look ready to burst, and in my mind, I’m already imagining what her nipples might look like. My dick starts to stir, and I place my hand in front to hide my arousal.
“Damn it, this can’t happen.”
Clayre begins walking erotically toward the bar, but unexpectedly stops and changes direction. Her hips sway with every step she takes toward the pool area full of men playing. My heart races as she approaches the small side table and slowly leans her body forward. She lifts her ass, and the game halts as everyone admires her. It’s not just my dick that got excited—I bet those bastards are aroused too.
I’m furious seeing their eyes on her long legs and the ass sculpted by God. She picks up the tray from the table and fills it with empty glasses. Sensually, she walks past them, their eyes following her every move.
“Whoever wants a drink, I’ll be at the bar,” she says, and her words are enough to create a line of men just to admire her beautiful breasts.
“She can’t work here,” I snap, crossing my arms.
“What? Are you kidding? She’ll bring in huge profits, my friend. That’s what I call a confident woman,” Kal retorts.
Liana laughs, clapping at the line of men waiting to admire her. Internally, I want to end this circus. In the past, with any other woman, I wouldn’t have cared—I’ve never been jealous. But with Clayre, it’s different. Something about wanting to punch every man admiring her tonight, including Kal.
“The more money, the better the wedding,” Liana says enthusiastically.
“For me, a barbecue, beer, and meat would be enough,” I say, uninterested in any ostentation. After all, I’ve always said I wanted something simple.
“For God’s sake, our wedding has to be the chicest in town!” she snaps back, but my attention is on her daughter.
Clayre throws me a challenging smile.
“Is she doing this to provoke me? You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”
I walk slowly to the bar and stop by her side. My eyes drop to her breasts, and I can’t help but look at them. They’re perfect.
I’m confused. Irritated. Fucked. I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“Nipples…” I cover my mouth, realizing I thought out loud.
Clayre quickly covers her breasts, thinking her nipples are exposed.
“What a scare,” she says, relaxing her shoulders.
“I meant, soon your nipples will be out.”
“Idiot.”
***
POV Clayre
Jack tries to hide his embarrassment, but my naughty body felt delighted when I sensed his eyes burning over every inch of my skin. I know it’s wrong, and I’ve kept my distance, but when we’re close, every minute becomes longer, and this feeling becomes uncontrollable. The portions are ready on the counter, and Jack grabs a fried chicken drumstick and a glass of beer. In that moment, everything about him is perfect. The laid-back manner, the smile, the way he bites into that drumstick makes me wish I were a damn roast chicken. I run my hands over my thighs, wishing it were his teeth on me.
"Where can I find a church?" I ask.
Jack looks at me confused as he sucks the sauce off his fingers, unbothered by my presence.
"A church?" he asks, frowning in confusion.
"Yes, you know… where you meet God and ask for forgiveness for your sins?"
"There’s one at the end of the street."
"I’ll visit it every day!" He laughs, raises an eyebrow, and sighs deeply before responding.
"Tomorrow you start. We’ll go in and out every day together. Are you ready to work with me?"
"Not at all," I whisper shyly.
"Then start praying. Your stepfather here, sinner Jack Bourbon, won’t take it easy on you." His face moves closer to mine, and I freeze in distress. "Cover those breasts; I don’t want any drunk idiot looking at you. First rule, Clayre: no one can look at you!" I nod, hypnotized by his profane gaze and sinful voice.
"Yes, sir!" I stammer, trembling.
Jack tilts his head, staring at me intently. I know he wants to respond, to touch me, and he doesn’t need to say it aloud; the flame of lust burning in his eyes is clear. I abruptly move away, fighting against my carnal desires. I’ve never felt so foolish around a man—why did it have to be my stepfather?
I take a deep breath, seeking an answer to calm my mind, and glance to the side, seeing my mother walking toward us with Kal. I adjust my clothes and lean on the counter, smiling.
"See? I proved to Jack that his profits will double. So, are you hired, daughter?" Liana asks.
"Yes. What can I say? I meet the minimum requirements," I joke, and Kal laughs while Jack clears his throat to speak.
"The portions are ready. Let’s eat."
We carry the plates of appetizers to the table and sit down. Dinner is calm, and the conversation revolves around college. The two of them decide the camping trip to a nearby park will happen in two weeks, which excites me.
As I leave the bar, Jack’s words still echo in my head: "Are you ready to work with me?" At the time, I responded with "Not at all," which I blurted out nervously, without thinking. The truth is, deep down, I’m terrified and genuinely not ready to live under his gaze every night.
When I get to the apartment, I quickly head to my room. Classes start after the summer, and I decided to move in earlier at my dad’s request. He wanted me to finally spend more than just a few hours with Liana. I focus on this thought, trying to stop overthinking, and head to the bathroom to take a shower. After relaxing under the hot water, I put on my pajamas and lie down on the bed. I stare at the ceiling, which seems to move above me. Jack doesn’t leave my mind.
I remember his fingers touching my face and the shiver that ran through my body as he persistently admired me. I desperately try not to think about him, but I spend hours tossing and turning in bed. I get up in the middle of the night, and the clock reads 2 a.m. As I step into the hallway, I hear moans coming from their room.
"Yes, Jack! I love it when you do that with your tongue!" Liana moans loudly, the sounds easily audible.
"What does he do with his tongue?"
My body heats up at the thought, and I quickly escape to the kitchen. I sit on the counter, overwhelmed. They’re having sex, and my chest tightens at the thought. "Why does hearing them having sex bother me? Why does imagining Jack and my mom kissing also disturb me?" These thoughts shouldn’t be circling my mind—not in such a troubling way.
The truth is, when I looked at Jack, I felt something inexplicable and entirely new.
I glance at the wines in the cellar, walk over, and pick a bottle. I just want to relax and stop thinking nonsense. I open the bottle, pour myself a glass, and head to the terrace. I sit on the large purple velvet couch, admiring the sea as I drink the wine quietly. For the first time, I think about nothing—just the sweet taste sliding down my throat. The sky is a deep petrol blue, the stars sparkle excessively, and the distant buildings complete the spectacular view.