And I’d be damned if I rushed through our first time. Under ten minutes. What the hell kind of guy did she think I was? “Then I’ll leave you to your work.” It came out more tersely than I intended, but I didn’t try to soften it. “I’m going to need a lot more of your time than that. Like two hours. At least.”
Then I snapped my shirt over a shoulder and stalked out.
Chapter Seventeen
Emily
Damn it.
I scowled at the laptop screen. Not even two thousand words since Killian had left. I’d been typing away furiously, but I’d also had to hit backspace a lot because my mind had been elsewhere. The kiss with Killian, to be precise.
The man had kissed like…
What was important wasn’t how he’d kissed. It was how I’d felt. Molten lust had struck me from head to toe like lightning, the liquid heat pouring through me, making me wet. And needy. And greedy.
I hadn’t been able to remember why I was annoyed about the pictures. Or why it was a terrible idea to kiss him back. The only thing that mattered had been my desire to have him continue.
Holy shit.
If I hadn’t stopped just then, I would’ve dragged him down on the floor. And I wouldn’t have settled for just straddling him like I’d done the day before. I would’ve stripped both of us naked and let him push into me. The intensity of that need had scared the hell out of me. Thinking about having him inside me made my skin tight and prickly.
So thinking about a prick makes you prickly, har har har.
With a groan, I buried my face in my hands. I was being pathetic. A nympho.
You haven’t had sex with a man since you moved to Kingstree.
That was why I had sex toys. Since I wasn’t going to get romance from men in real life, I didn’t need them for orgasms, either. But somehow I wanted to have some with Killian rather than my toys. What the hell was wrong with me?
My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my humiliatingly horny thoughts. I picked it up because that would be more productive than glaring at the poor, helpless Word doc or fantasizing about Killian. I’d have to change my underwear at the rate things were going.
–Skye: Somebody please! I think I’m going to murder Tiffany’s band director!
–Me: Why?
–Lucy: Don’t. There is no perfect murder!
–Skye: It’s a freakin’ fundraiser. Again! We did that, like, two months ago, but apparently they didn’t sell enough stupid candy or something. I swear, we pay through the nose in property taxes for school, but they never have enough money for anything!
I sighed with sympathy. This was Skye’s constant gripe with her kid’s school, and I didn’t blame her. I’d hated fundraisers in high school. Thankfully, Mom had sold the stuff for me, since she was an extrovert.
–Me: I’m Paypaling you $100 for some candy.
–Skye: You don’t have to. You bought some last time.
–Me: Please. If I can’t do this for you and Tiffany, who can I do it for?
–Lucy: Same for me! Save me $100s’ worth of candy, too. Anything with chocolate is fine.
–Me: You can give mine away or eat it yourself. I don’t care.
I was particular about my junk food. And I didn’t care enough to leaf through candy options from Tiffany’s band.
–Skye: You’re the best, girls! Thank you!
–Me: It’s nothing.
–Lucy: Less than nothing.
–Skye: Well, I appreciate it anyway. So how’s writing going? Almost done?
–Me: Should’ve been done this morning, but I’m not even close.
–Lucy: How come? You’re an hour ahead of me, and I’m already done with my daily quota.
I sighed. I envied Lucy her focus and prolificity.
–Me: I’m distracted.
–Skye: Stuck? Need to brainstorm?
I smiled at Skye’s ready offer. She was the font of ideas in our trio.
–Me: Thanks, girlfriend, but I already know exactly what needs to happen.
–Lucy: So what’s the problem?
I sighed, then decided I might as well tell them. They might have some ideas as to how I could get my head back into the story.
Speaking of getting head…
No, stop!
–Me: It’s my neighbor.
–Lucy: Didn’t he promise to be quiet?
–Me: Yes, but we kissed.
There. That got the important point across, without revealing who Killian was. I still didn’t know how I felt about him being a rock star, and I didn’t want to derail the girls’ focus with that factoid, because Lucy and Skye both loved music.
–Skye: Whoa! Wait, wait, back up a little.
–Lucy: Was it good?
I paused, thinking back on the kiss in the kitchen. How should I describe it? Among all the adjectives I could come up with, my mind kept wandering back to the first one. It was too dramatic a word choice, but I couldn’t think of anything better and more apt. So I typed it out.
–Me: Soul-destroying.
–Skye: Wow. So did you seal the deal for real?
–Lucy: Don’t leave us hanging!
Their excitement amused me a little, making me feel like a teenager discussing her first crush with her friends. Except Killian wasn’t such an innocent crush. The man was too hot, too popular, too…surrounded by women. Well, maybe not in Kingstree. But I’d bet a year’s income that as soon as he left town, women would converge on him like moths around a searchlight.
–Me: We were arguing, and I was kind of egging him on, and then…bam, he kissed me.
Okay, that wasn’t exactly how that had gone, but I didn’t want to give all the details, especially the part about him deciding I was jealous. I’d wanted him to lose his cool for that arrogance. I’d been annoyed about his pictures for reasons unknown, but I hadn’t been jealous—I’d never felt that way about a guy, ever—and I had no reason to start.
–Lucy: Woo, a hate kiss!
–Skye: Was it good? I’ve never had a hate kiss before.
I ran my tongue over my lips. The kiss was long over, but I swore my mouth was still feeling an echo.
–Me: It was good.
Might as well be honest, I told myself. It was only fair to share—it could be inspirational…or used as research. Skye wrote wholesome contemporary, but she could always write something edgier. As for Lucy… Maybe she could write about a serial killer antihero.
–Me: And he was yummy.
There. An extra detail. I didn’t add that he had been as delicious as Bouncy Bare Monkeys, all that rich, textured flavor of male and lust and “take no prisoners” aggression. I’d wanted to devour him on the spot, consequences be damned.
That seemed a bit too private. Weird that I felt that way. I hadn’t minded giving away details about the few dates I’d had in the past.
–Lucy: And then what?
–Skye: There’s more to this, right?
–Me: No. He went home, and I started working. I have a deadline. The bet, remember?
I wasn’t going to tell my friends I’d pulled back from that logic-vaporizing kiss because the intensity of my need had scared the hell out of me. Sex was supposed to be pleasant and generally pleasurable. But feeling like I’d die if I didn’t have him? That wasn’t normal. It only happened in romance novels, between the heroes and heroines.