Page 72 of Play With Me

Sasha’s face appears in my mind.Did you just think the word PENIS?

I press the heels of my palms to my eyes. “Jude, we have to talk about—”

“Last night,” he finishes.

I chew my lip, relief running through me. Somehow talking about yesterday feels safer than addressing what happened just now. The touch. I twist my hands in my lap.

“I’m sorry about barging in on you,” he says.

I swallow, my mouth dry.Take a risk, Nora. Don’t close the door.“You didn’t seem sorry last night.”

Jude raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t. I’m not. I just…wasn’t expecting it.”

My stomach rolls. He’s going to say it shouldn’t have happened. That it can never happen again.

I speak up before he can. “I was all…wound up,” I say.

Oh God. I’m explaining why my best friend caught me masturbating. This, right here, is the most mortifying moment of my life. But I can’t stop. “On the train, I dreamed I was…” Oh God. My cheeks are on fire, I can feel it. “I guess I dreamed we were having sex.”

Jude nods.

“And then I tried it because I thought it was real. I’m sorry, that’s not cool at all. It’s—”

“It’s okay, Nor. I was obviously enjoying myself,” Jude says. “Actually…” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I was still thinking about it, then when I saw you last night. It’s why I…did what I did.”

“Did you enjoy it?” I whisper. “Last night?”

Jude meets my eye. “Yes, Nora. Couldn’t you tell?” He shifts in his seat. Is he thinking about it again?

“But you didn’t…I d-didn’t touch…”Oh God, don’t saypenis. My damn soft voice stutters for the words.

But it’s okay this time, right? Jude—myJude—is sitting there looking at me, having just told me he liked what happened between us last night. My pulse throbs in my throat, my heart hammering.

Brave, Nora. Be Brave.

I don’t think then. I unbuckle my seat belt, rise up on my knees, and cup Jude around the cheeks. Then I lean in and plant my mouth on his.

He’s so shocked that at first, he doesn’t move. My lips are tentative on his, soft. Testing.

Be bold!

I press my tongue against his lips, coaxing them open.

Then he shifts, taking over, his mouth urgent, his tongue dancing against mine.

His arms lift, and I feel his hands on my ribs. Heat spreads all over me, from my heart to my stomach to that hot point between my legs. This is really happening. It feels incredible.

I lean into him. “Oh Jude,” I say when he breaks the kiss.

“Nora,” he says. I lean forward to kiss him again, except then I feel myself being lifted up and back. He’s pulling me off of him. I watch, unable to move, as he guides me back to my seat.

My stomach thuds all the way down, like a broken glass on the floor. His expression. It’s not filled with lust and yearning like mine. It’s pained.

Tortured.

“Nora, I’m sorry, I need to—”

He may need something. But I don’t need to hear the rest. Humiliation burns as hot as the sun. I yank open the door and run.

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