Page 38 of Pour Decisions
“It’ll work.” I lean against the counter and take a sip too. This doesn’t taste as good when sober, to be honest.
“So confident.” She shakes her head. “But so wrong.”
“It’s basically tea,” I say.
“I feel like a British person just up and died because of the psychic damage you inflicted on them.”
Her smile has a flirtatious edge. Or maybe I’m imagining it. But I don’t want to imagine it. Every part of my logical inner voice, which is usually so dominant that I question whether I have another side, is dead silent. And the irrational part of me is loud and clear, yelling to just fucking kiss her already.
I put my mug down and rest one hand next to her thigh on the counter. Even as I crowd her, she doesn’t move. She locks eyes with me instead, tracking every move.
“JD…” Her tone has a slight warning but she doesn’t move an inch. Her eyes are locked on mine.
“Katrina.”
I scan her face for one more second before I lean in and kiss her. It’s an electrifying feeling, and jolts me from head to toe. I cup the back of her neck and deepen the kiss, stepping between her knees to get closer. She grabs the front of my shirt and holds me to her like she’s holding onto a life preserver. My hands wander over her body, refamiliarizing myself with every soft dip and curve. Her skin is just as soft underneath her t-shirt as always, and the swell of her breasts is fuller than I remember too.
“Shit,” she murmurs, leaning back for a second and peeling her shirt off. She’s wearing shorts, but they’re microscopic. “JD.”
“Say my name again.” I could listen to her say it over and over again for the rest of my life.
“JD.” Her voice has a sigh in it as I kiss down the side of her neck. She grinds against me, her core pressed against my hardening cock.
I groan against the side of her neck as she purposefully rolls her hips. The friction of the fabric of my sweats against me sends white heat up and down my spine, and I press back against herto get more of the sensation. We both let out a breath, like we’re getting relief we didn’t know we truly needed.
Just like muscle memory, we grind against each other at just the right rhythm, hitting all the right spots. I ignore the twinge in my back even though she’d probably be pissed if she knew. I cup her breast underneath her shirt, her flesh hot and warm. Her nipples are hard, and she moans when I pinch one.
My cock is so hard that every time we grind against each other, I inch closer to coming right there in my pants. I don’t even care at this point. I just want to make her come, and come too.
I scoop a hand under her ass and scoot her closer to me so we don’t have a single centimeter between us. The heat from her pussy is practically searing. I can pinpoint her little gasps anywhere. She’s close, and I can take her over the edge.
Our kisses blur into each other as I grind against her faster, using every tiny thread of self-control I have to not finish before her. Finally, she breaks, coming with a cry. She shudders from head to toe and I feel all of it, savoring the familiar sensation. She kisses me as the aftershocks rock through her, slow and sweet. The sharp turn from almost coming to this intimacy is nearly as shocking as the near-orgasm, but I love it.
“Wait,” she says abruptly, breaking the kiss. “Wait.”
The look in her eyes is wild and almost panicked, tinged with confusion. Like she’s wondering how the fuck that happened.
“Fuck. We really shouldn’t…” I dig my hands through my hair so I don’t reach for her again. My cock is aching with unmet release like crazy, but I ignore it. “It’s late. We’re not a hundred percent.”
“Right.” She gestures vaguely, her lips kiss swollen. “We’re not doing this again. Ever.”
Everis a knife to the gut, but it’s true. As much as I want her, I lost my privilege to have her when I fucked it all up.
“I’m going to sleep,” I say, handing her t-shirt back. “Goodnight, Katrina.”
I go to bed, but lay there awake until I physically can’t keep my eyes open anymore. Despite the lack of sleep, I wake up ass early, like always, and see a text from Katrina. She must have sent it not long after I went to bed.
Katrina: I’m sorry. Friends?
Three simple words and there’s nothing else I can do about them.
I text back—yes. Because I either have her that way, or no way at all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KATRINA
My mood can’t decidewhich way to go—up, thinking about every single interaction with JD, or down because I swore to myself that forgiving him didn’t mean getting back together with him, especially right now.
