Page 82 of Jesse's Girl

It’s taking all my willpower not to leap out of this bed and do exactly that. The only thing holding me back is knowing Marcus would never forgive me. Or her. Fuck, this is exactly what he tried to warn me about.

Okay, well, not exactly this.

I slow my pace as I strain to listen for more. She seems to have gone quiet, and I can’t help but think maybe I was hallucinating. But then Ada’s muffled gasps reach my ears and I can’t stop. Pumping myself again as she moans, I go over the cliff, sensation lighting me up from head to toe. I can barely contain my own hiss of pleasure as cum spurts hot and long over my bare stomach, hitting as high up as my chest.

Shit. Fuck. No. Yes.

I breathe hard while I wait for my vision to clear. One hand still on my cock, I drag the other one down my face in shame.

What the fuck have I done?

I know I’ve crossed a line—a strange, private line in my mind—and a sinking realization descends over me: living with Ada just got a hell of a lot more difficult.

How am I going to face her after this? After what I’ve heard? After what I’ve done?

My heart is in my throat when I come out of my bedroom the next morning and see Ada. When she looks up from her phone, I swallow. “Hi.”

“Hey.” She’s a dozen feet away, but I can feel the air between our bodies buzzing, charged with the shared knowledge of what almost happened.

I have to mentally shove away a flashback of what did happen—later, in our beds.

God, those moans…

“Can we talk for a sec?” I ask.

“Uh, sure.” She glances at the door like she’s considering running.

I walk closer, not convinced I’m capable of having any kind of rational conversation right now. But I have to try.

“Last night was…” I stuff my hands in my front pockets, stuffing down the impulse to touch her along with them. Not sure how to put it into words, I try again. “Marcus almost saw us.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“That can’t happen again.” I shake my head, hesitating before I say any more. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I should have never laid a finger on you.”

She scoffs. “Just blame the margaritas or whatever.”

“Ada. Cut it out. We both know it wasn’t the fucking margaritas. But it was stupid. We can’t?—”

Something seems to snap in her. “Yeah, yeah, I know, we can’t, we can’t, we can’t.”

I flinch at her pissy tone.

She pushes her hands into her hair, then drops them to her sides, turning for the front door. “I need to get out of here.”

“Ada, come on… Talk to me.”

She stops in her tracks and whirls around to face me. “I don’t want to fucking talk, Jesse! That’s the problem. We’ve talked ourselves in circles and gotten fucking nowhere! And talking…” She takes a long breath, letting it out through a pained smile. “Talking is not what’s on my mind when I think about you.”

Her admission has my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

“Ada…” I trail off.

What’s there to say? We can’t act on this.

We hold eye contact for another moment before she wrenches her gaze from mine. Quickly shoving on her shoes and snatching up her purse, she pushes out the front door.

18

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