Page 120 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
“I saw you two kissing in the kitchen.”
A pause, his eyebrows lifting. “You mentioned that in the hospital.”
“Oh.” Right. When I’d yelled at him.
“But it wasn’t just kissing, was it?” he asks silkily.
“Um. Well…” My cheeks flame. “It was…creative kissing.”
His brows fly up higher. “Creative how?”
“You and her…she—” I drop my head back and groan. “Okay. Look, I saw you go down on her. Well, less down and more lifting her up so you could lick her while you were standing and her legs were over your shoulders and her pussy?—”
My throat dries up.
He’s still.
Quiet.
Totally thinks I’m a sicko.
And yup, the ground could seriously do me a favor right about now.
Sink hole, anyone?
Gray laughs huskily. “So, you have a voyeurism kink, Red?”
“I—”
He grins and it’s that’s he’s smiling—laughing—instead of being mad that undoes me the most.
“I’ve never done it like that before, okay?” I snap
“The stand-up oral sex or playing the Peeping Tom?”
“Gray!” I say, cheeks blazing. “It was hot—you two are gorgeous people. But it was seriously wrong!” I exclaim. “I should have turned away once I saw what you guys are doing. I mean, I did turn away. I just also turned back and?—”
“First,” he says, slanting his mouth over mine for a short, blazing kiss. “I think this once again proves that I need to invest in some fucking curtains.”
Hysterical laughter bubbles up in my chest.
“Second, yeah it was wrong.”
My gut sinks.
“Not because you looked, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose against mine. “But because it was Courtney and me.” His mouth hitches up. “It was consensual. It was manipulative. It was seriously fucked-up.” A sigh. “But most of all, it was wrong because I wish it wasn’t with her, but rather with you.”
My lungs hitch. “I was imagining it was me.”
He nips at the hinge of my jaw. “Then I think I’ve just accepted another challenge.”
I shiver.
“We’ll make that fantasy a reality…” Another nip, the tiny bite of pain quickly soothed by his lips, by a flick of his tongue.
But before I can ask when exactly that will be, he’s kissing me senseless.
“Red?” he asks when he pulls back, leaving me a limp, breathless mess.
