JENNIE
After i'd ransacked my room, the laundry, and my car, I sat on the edge of my bed and resigned myself to the fact my favorite hoodie, the Vanderbilt one I'd bought in the university store and had worn almost every night the first year of school, was gone. How the hell had I lost it?
My attention was normally great, but it'd been slipping since the afternoon I'd gone over to Felix's house to end things and wound up kissing his dada. The last two days had been much worse. Since sleeping with Lisa, she was all I could think about. Lilith wasn't helping. She'd insisted we get dinner together after work, mostly so I could tell her every detail.
Describing the memory to her made it more intense, but she'd been great about not judging me. A big part of that was probably her dislike for Felix.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd worn the hoodie. I hadn't been cold in weeks—all I needed to do was think about Lisa, and problem solved. Heat flushed along my body, running down my center, leading straight between my legs—
Oh, no.
I groaned as I realized where my favorite sweatshirt was. I'd spilled a glass of water on my arm last time I'd worn it, and hung the black and gold hoodie up to dry on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.
Not my bathroom, but Felix's.
I could cut my losses, or reach out to my ex, but neither of those options excited me as much as the one that popped into my mind. I scooped up my phone, scrolled through my contacts to Dr. Manoban, and tapped out the message before I had time to think about what a terrible idea it was.
Jennie: Hey, it's Jennie. Sorry to bother you, but I left my hoodie hanging on the door of Felix's bathroom. Can I come by to get it?
Jennie: Maybe some time when he's not there?
I threw the phone down like it was the devil. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was similar to the one I got when I'd called Felix for the first time, back when we were in high school, only this feeling now was more intense. My gut twisted in a knot. My request was dangerous, and it was hard to breathe while I waited for a response.
Time ticked by, one agonizing second after another.
Was she in surgery? Had she read the text and wasn't sure how to respond? Or was she upset I'd left without saying goodbye? I put my fingertips over my lips and frowned. I shouldn't have texted her.
I nearly leapt out of my skin when the phone chimed.
Dr. Manoban: He's at work if you want to swing by now.
I read the text a million times, searching and hoping for hidden meaning, but it wasn't there. 'Swing by' implied quick—she wasn't asking me to stay. And why would she? I'd run away last time like a coward.
At least she didn't say she'd leave the door unlocked for me, because that would have been a clear sign she didn't want to see me.
I was such a jittery mess on the drive over, I didn't realize I hadn't turned on the radio until I entered Lisa's subdivision. I'd driven most of the way there in silence, running different scenarios in my head of what was going to happen when I got to her house.
It was dusk when I parked in the driveway, and I followed the brick path up the front step, staring at the glowing button of the doorbell. It felt like the damn thing was mocking me. If I rang it, seeing Lisa face to face would be unavoidable.
Wasn't that what I wanted?
What I craved?
I stabbed the button with a finger and listened to the dull chime ring out inside the house. The decorative glass insert of the front door was made of embossed panels, so I could only see a figure approach, but not her face.
The lock slid with a click, and the door swung open.
Lisa wore jeans, a blue t-shirt that clung to her perfect form, and an unreadable expression. My heart tripped over itself at the sight of her. Memories of her hands on me, her body sliding inside mine, made my knees weak.
"Hey," I breathed.
"Hey." She pulled the door open wider and stepped back, ushering me in. I took two hesitant steps inside, and before I could say anything, she swung the door shut and moved toward the kitchen, abandoning me. "I brought your sweatshirt up for you. It's on the counter."
Oh.
I slinked after her, my head hung in shame. Sure enough, my hoodie sat folded neatly on the kitchen island, right in the same spot she'd leaned me over two days ago and put her hand down my shorts. I could still feel het fingers inside my panties, working to make me come.
She appeared unfazed by my arrival. She moved around to the other side of the island, putting a physical barrier between us, and set her hands on the polished countertop. Her expression was still impossible to interpret. She didn't look mad, but she didn't look happy, either. If anything, she looked like she was trying very hard to hide whatever she was thinking, and it took all of her focus to be successful.
My gaze fell from her, down to the black sweatshirt waiting for me to collect it and go. "Are you mad at me?"
My voice had been small, but hers was light. "For what? Leaving without saying goodbye the other day?"
Her tone wasn't accusatory, but the words were. I pinched my face together with discomfort. "I'm sorry. It was about to start storming outside, and you looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn't want to wake you."
"I would have appreciated it," she said softly, "if you had."
My brain threatened to disconnect. It was such an adult thing to say, and she'd delivered it straightforward. I wasn't used to actually talking about stuff with guys, and it was yet another thing to make me feel inexperienced around her. Communication was foreign.
But if she wanted to be honest, I was willing to try the same. "I didn't wake you up because I was scared," I announced. "I didn't know how to say goodbye to you after we . . . and I didn't want to."
Her posture straightened, and finally an emotion I could read splashed on her expression. Surprise.
"I'm sorry," I said again.
"When I woke up and you were gone, I didn't know what to think. I worried maybe you were freaking out."
Guilt coasted through me. I hadn't meant to hurt her. "No." I took a step closer, wanting her near. "That came later." I rounded the island, so it was no longer between us, and stared up at her. "I don't regret what happened. I mean, I know I should, but I just don't." I pressed my lips together and drew in a breath through my nose, struggling to find the courage to ask. "Do you?"
A crease developed on her forehead. She looked conflicted, and my heart sank to my toes. Her hesitation was torture.
"No, I don't regret it," she said finally, "but that makes me the worst parent in the world, right? A terrible person, at least."
"No—"
"Yes, it does. Especially when I want to do it again."
Anxiety released its hold on my shoulders, and I sagged against the counter. Her eyes heated. The air between us shifted and stretched, growing from tension into something else, which tasted a lot like anticipation. I'd never been more aware of her, or the idea that we were alone in her house.
"But we can't do it again," I said, my words tight and unsteady.
Jesus, I couldn't believe I'd just said it. I hadn't meant it one bit—I'd issued this as a challenge. Would she pick up my wistful tone? Did she get what I was doing?
"No," she said, shifting on her feet so she was facing me. "Absolutely not." The corner of her sexy mouth curled up into a hint of a smile. "Hey, before I forget. As long as you're here, maybe we should go to my room and get you naked."
My mouth dropped open, and before I could say a word, her hands wrapped around my waist and hauled me against her chest. Her mouth lowered to mine, and when our lips connected, I arched up into her kiss.
We moved together without breaking the contact, turning and stumbling into the side of the cabinets on our hurried quest toward her room, only stopping to chuckle at our clumsiness. Her hands slid beneath the hem of my t-shirt and were warm on my back. The feel of her fingertips skimming up my bare skin was like nothing else. It sent hot shivers down my backbone.
"I thought I might not see you again," she mumbled against the side of my mouth.
"I'm sure we'd run into each other somewhere."
She stopped moving and locked her arms, caging me inside. "I meant like this. And I didn't like that idea. Actually, I fucking hated it."
Butterflies fluttered in my belly. "Really?" I whispered.
She was so sure, so confident. "I'm tired of telling myself I don't want this. Yeah, you're supposed to be off-limits, but that doesn't stop me from thinking about you all the damn time." Her eyes sharpened, making it impossible to look away. "I can't stop thinking about the things I'd like to do to you, or things you'd do to me, or the way we looked together in my mirror."
"Oh," I sighed, and my eyes lidded with desire.
She dipped her head and traced a line up the curve of my neck with the tip of her tongue. Shit, I was going to burst into flames. I was drunk off her in seconds.
"Tell me," I asked eagerly, as she sucked on a sensitive spot below my ear, "what you want to do to me."
"You want to hear about my fantasies, Jennie? Because there are a lot, and they are very, very bad."
Just like me.
I nearly said it out loud, but I'd turned to liquid under her mouth. I couldn't catch my breath as I swallowed a gulp, so I nodded enthusiastically. "Tell me. I bet I want to do them all."
She made a sound like I'd stroked a hand over her erection, even though I hadn't yet, and her face took a dark, sexual cast. It was primal and gorgeous.
Lisa's mouth slammed into mine, her tongue pushing past my lips and invading. This kiss wasn't like the others. It was blistering, and punishing, and rewarding. She shoved a hand up my shirt and gripped my bra-covered breast, all while her mouth fucked mine.
We'd stopped in the living room, halfway to her bedroom, and we weren't going to make it. I wanted her here, and now, and she seemed to have the same desire. I fumbled my fingers over the snap of my shorts, my urgency making them almost useless—
A loud, mechanical rumble came from behind the door to the garage.
We froze, and the sensation was like a bucket of frigid water doused us. Oh, no. That sound only meant one thing.
Felix was home.