I nod. "I guess she pulled me away from myself. I needed that."
The toast pops up, and she walks to the pantry cupboard. "Peanut butter?" she asks.
"I'm not that hungry," I say. My hunger is leaning in an entirely different direction, but I keep that to myself.
She pulls out the toast. "Plain?"
"My stomach's fine. It's handled a lot worse combos than beer and painkillers."
Her phone beeps, and she pulls it from her pocket.
"Is it Zach"?" I ask, unable to stop my asshole moment.
Indi blows out an aggravated huff and texts something back. "It's Kinsley. I told her I was going to stay here in case you needed something."
"I'll be fine."
She looks hurt. "Oh, well, then I guess I'll go—" She walks past me, but I take hold of her wrist. She stops and stares down at my hand.
"The answer to your earlier question—" I start, the words are rough in my throat. "My answer is no." I'm talking way slower than normal. "No, I don't want you to date Zach."
She lifts her green gaze to my face, and I can feel it smooth over me like a warm hand. I pull her into my arms and kiss her. She kisses back. Her lips part, and our tongues clash urgently. It's a kiss that I've been thinking about for years.
She pulls her lips from mine. Her eyes are glossy. Her lids are heavy. "Jameson." I can feel her warm breath on my skin. I spin her around in my arms. She leans back against me, her head lolls against my shoulder. My hand smooths over her breasts and dips under the hem of her shirt.
"God, Indi, you feel like silk." I chuckle against her ear. "It figures I finally have you in my arms, and I can only use one fucking hand."
She giggles. "It's probably better you're working with a handicap, Jameson Wilde. Otherwise, I'd be melting into a hot mess right here on your kitchen floor."
I press my mouth to her ear, and a shiver runs through her body. "Let's see if we can still make that happen." I push her bra up above her breasts and tease her nipples into hard buds. "That's it, darlin'. That's the reaction I want." As her head falls to the side, I press my mouth against her neck. A soft sound comes from her throat that I feel straight down to my cock. It presses against her ass. She responds by pressing that same fine ass against my erection.
She leans on me for full support now. I hold her the best I can with my right arm as my left hand smooths down her flat belly. We both laugh at my struggle to open her shorts with my left hand. "Sonavabitch," I grumble. "I swear I'm usually much more adept at this."
"Your hand is about to slide between my thighs," she says breathlessly. "Not a time to bring up your other conquests."
I kiss her neck again. "Just trying to save face in case this whole thing goes south."
She grunts in frustration and pushes my hand under her shorts. The mound of her pussy pushes eagerly against my hand. When my fingers reach the hot, wetness between her legs, I have to pause and swallow hard to keep control. My cock is straining against my jeans as I slide my fingers through the hot folds of her pussy.
Indi is soft in my arms. She would sink to the ground if I released her. Her soft moans are music to my fucking ears. "Part your thighs, darlin', so I can feel all of you."
Her feet move apart, and I reach farther and push first one, then two fingers into her pussy. She sucks in a sharp breath, melts against me more and then starts to move against my hand. The heel of my palm presses against her swollen clit as myfingers massage her from the inside. Her hips writhe so that her ass pushes against my cock. She holds my wrist, worried I'll stop, but that's never going to happen. She moves faster against my hand and then a small cry rolls up from her throat as her pussy pulses around my hand. Indi crumples in my arms, and I hold her against me. It's another one of those surreal moments, one of a million I've experienced in the last few days.
"I guess my left hand isn't so lame after all," I mutter against her ear.
Her body shakes with laughter. "I'm not sure we can call you ambidextrous based on the last few minutes, but—" She takes hold of my wrist and lifts my left hand. "Well done, you." She lowers my hand and turns in my arms.
"I suppose it's only fair that I—" she says.
I shake my head. "It's on the house. But you know what—I'd take that toast now. Worked up an appetite—in more ways than one," I add cockily.
She peels her body away from mine, and I can feel the ache of her leaving my arms through my core. "Have a seat on the couch, and I'll bring you some buttered toast. It's my specialty."
seventeen
. . .
Indi