slammed into the sofa, the cushions grazing her skin. She gasped but kept moving, knowing full well she’d have wool burns come morning but totally beyond caring. Instead the moment took her, wiped away any reality until it was just them, their harsh breath coupling in the eerie silence and the air full of the familiar scent of sex and need.
Breathless and throbbing, she impatiently rocked her hips against his, eager for the final release. And when her climax came, it rushed in with little warning, and she was left floundering as the waves crashed, leaving her shaking and panting. Dimly she was aware that Marco still had her hands pinned, his deep murmur of release against her lips as he followed her, his body jerking into hers. She shook, his satisfaction heightening hers, and she tightened her leg around his waist, cradling his body, taking all of him with a groan that ripped from deep inside.
It was...he was... She groaned again and closed her eyes, willing reality to stay away for just a moment more so she could just enjoy this, them, here and now.
But of course, it wasn’t possible. Reality always intruded.
The air cooled her naked flesh. His breath on her neck slowed. The shudders racking her body subsided. And soon, the angry wind against the house broke into their private moment. When he gently released her hands, blood rushed into her fingers once more. And slowly, so very slowly, she felt him slip from her body and then stand.
They’d done it again. After everything she’d told herself, every warning she’d mentally listed.
She opened her mouth to say something, closed it and then opened it again before giving up. Instead she sat up, yanked her skirt down and began to button up in the embarrassing silence, pointedly ignoring Marco as he did the same.
But when they were done and literally had nothing else to distract them, Kat sighed and finally looked up.
Marco had moved to the far end of the couch and was packing up their card game.
“Marco...” she began, her throat dry.
“Hmm?”
“I... We...” She paused, hands going to her lap as he continued to tidy. “Can you stop that and look at me?”
When he paused and finally met her gaze, she had to bite back a soft groan. He looked so serious, the raw curves of his face drawn into such a solemn expression that she was sorely tempted to trace her finger down his cheek to coax a smile from his full lips.
Lovely lips that she’d had the thorough pleasure of just moments before.
“What on earth are we doing?” she said now, acutely aware of the warm flush heating her skin. “How did we get to this?”
With a sigh, he flopped into the chair and crossed an ankle over one knee. “Well, the first time, alcohol was involved.”
“And this time there’s...” She waved a hand, indicating the storm outside that had eased into a dull rumble. “But that’s not what I meant. I’ve never...thought of you in that way before.”
“I see.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes without getting embarrassed, and that realization just flustered her further. Truth was, she’d thought about it more than once but every time refused to indulge for more than a few moments. Giving the fantasy more than that would’ve been weird, not to mention futile. He’d never seen her as more than a best friend, so what was the point? She’d been content with the tag for all those years.
Until now, apparently.
Dammit. She felt her entire body warm under his scrutiny, until the desperate need to move overwhelmed her. So she rose, went to the small bar fridge and fished out a bottle of water. With her back to him, she rolled the bottle over her neck then down, welcoming the icy shock on her hot skin.
She was exhausted, so tired of thinking. She had no idea where she stood. Her head was a mess, and she couldn’t even blame this lapse on alcohol as she had last time.
The heat of the moment? Yeah, nah. She could have stopped if she’d really wanted to. She just didn’t
Learning to Kill: Stories