Page 54 of Isn't It Obvious?
“WHAT IS IT?”Ravi asks, staring at her lips. His hand is on her ribs, fingertips grazing the band of her bra.
“I hate you,” she whispers, breath ragged. Not even she believes it.
His eyes flick up to hers, then. “No, you don’t,” he says, but he lets his hand fall away from her bare skin, settling over her skirt at her hip. Carefully, he walks her back against the desk, and she lets him. It takes all of two steps, and so much of him stays pressed against her as they move.
He waits, watching. “No, I don’t,” she says, and tilts her head up to brush their lips together.
Ravi kisses her again, this time slow and deep. Her legs fall open, welcoming him in between them. He reaches down, dragging the side of his hand along her calf and hitching herskirt up her thigh, urging her weight onto the table. When he rolls his hips, his erection presses against her so sweetly, her jaw falls open. His mouth finds her chin, her jaw, her neck. She threads her fingers into his rain-curled hair as his tongue traces her pulse point.
Yael’s mind goes completely blank. “Ravi,” she gasps.
“I can’t believe,” he says, “you tastethisgood.”
She whimpers, sliding her hand up his shirt, dragging her fingertips over his abdomen, loving the way he tenses beneath her touch.
He kisses his way from her neck back to her mouth, and she encourages him with a hand at the back of his head. She trails over his nape, his shoulder, shoves down his overshirt so she can get to his biceps.God, those arms. He grips her by the hips, hoisting her up farther onto the desk, which sends a stack of papers crashing to the floor.
They break apart at the sound.
Fuck, Yael thinks,what am I doing?She slides down off the table, not making eye contact with Ravi, and does her best to right herself. One side of her skirt is somehow tucked into her underpants, the underwire of her bra is pressing into places it shouldn’t be, and her hair is, in all likelihood, beyond saving.
How could she do this to Charlie? How could she do this atwork? It’s like she’s trying to get herself fired.
And then, a thought that she has no real right to have, but she latches onto it all the same: How could she do this to Kevin?
Yael runs a thumb along her bottom lip, finding it swollen and wet. A confused heat suffuses her chest and cheeks, arousal tangled with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” Ravi says. When Yael looks up at him, he’s wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.Devastating.
She shakes her head. “No. This is… This is my fault,” she says.
“That’s not true.”
He’s looking at her the same way he had on Friday, that pained kind of hunger. She looks back at him, feeling too many things all at once.
“Yael—”
“I’ll see you Thursday,” she says.
Ravi stands there, staring, for a beat longer. Then, he nods once and walks out the door.
Yael stays rooted in place, her pulse thundering in her throat. After many, many steadying breaths, she rounds the desk to clean up the mess she’s made. Or rather, relocate the mess to its usual position and order. It takes her minutes longer than it should.
Before she leaves, she checks her reflection in her phone camera. It probably could be worse, but to her, the flush in her cheeks and the frizzy curls that frame her face tell a tale of being thoroughly debauched. She digs a silk scrunchie out of her tote, flips her head forward, and gathers her hair into a pineapple, leaving her signature braid hanging down.
The rain stops in time for her to walk home, and God, does she need the air. Her body is a tingling map of memories—the feel of Ravi’s hand around her wrist, her tongue in his mouth, his teeth on her lip, his fingers on the bare skin of her thigh.
The walk doesn’t clear her. Panic and guilt crowd her chest cavity, and by the time she reaches home, she’s finding it hard to breathe evenly.
When she unlocks the door, Charlie’s already on the couch, a bowl and spoon in hand. “Hey Yael! How was book club?”
“Hey, Charlie,” she says, voice thick. “It was fine, how was your day?”
He sets his dinner down. “Are you okay?”
She nods, blinking back tears.
“Yael, you’re clearly not okay. Have you eaten? I have extra parmesan-and-white-bean soup.”
