Page 37 of The Dommes

Well, looks like Kathleen is going to win our little bet. Too bad I’ll conveniently forget all about it and act like I don’t know what she’s talking about when she inevitably brings it up.

Nobody said that I honor my drunken promises I make without signing anything in my blood. Or even without my blood.

We shake some hands. I kiss my mother’s cheek. The Anderssens commend us for a job well done. “We’ll be selling, for sure,” Lara says. “We’ll have to wait to hear about what plan to go with first.”

Who cares? Once they sell to us, they’ll be washed of it all. Then our work begins.

“You did a fine job,” Kathleen says when we have a bit of time to ourselves. The assistants are dismantling the materials and putting them away. Most of the people are filing out, but more are stopping to ask either of our fathers a few questions.

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Her perfume is still poisoning me. The closer she gets, intending to pick up some folders off the table, the more I am tempted to look at the bend of her hips and the soft flesh poking from her skirt. I feel like Kennedy Anderssen being taunted by their wife. “I mean… I don’t often get to see that side of you.”

She stands, lips drawn back in a mischievous smile that drives me wild. “You’ll see a lot more of it once they choose my project.”

Shit. She does remember.

“Yeah… can I talk to you about that?” I put a hand on her arm to get her attention. Just a friendly gesture to anyone looking. But Kathleen looks down at my hand as if I’m biting her.

“Don’t know if now’s the time.”

I made a grave mistake in touching her because now everything south of the border is charged with electricity. My thighs have that familiar heat to them. Heat that says fuck this woman.

Great. Great.

Usually, I don’t fall prey to my own instincts like this. Normally, I’m a calm and collected person who waits until the door closes before I succumb to my basic, carnal instincts.

Usually, okay?

Yet there’s something about Kathleen that makes me sweat. Having sex with her only made things worse. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Sure, I would still be curious, but I doubt I would feel this driving, pulsing need to feel her all over again. I’ve tortured myself by having carnal knowledge of her. Her body begs me to take her again. Does she know that in her head? If she does, she’s not letting on.

I’ll find out. I have to.

“Let’s find some privacy.” I attempt to guide her away from the fray.

She follows, unsure. I let go of her arm once I’m sure I have her in my web. It would look weird if I’m hauling her off to an empty room upstairs.

We have to talk. I need to talk.

Except it’s not talking I do once we’re upstairs in a hallway. It’s not a single word I utter once I find an empty room, full of overturned chairs and a table pushed against the wall.

I use my mouth a lot. But not to talk.

Chapter 16

Ira

“Ira!” Kathleen’s shock is palpable as I push her up against the wall and kiss her.

Hesitating, I wait for her to say no. To push me away. I wait. I hear nothing but the beating of my own heart and the breaths rushing out of her throat. I feel nothing but the heat of her skin and my blasted body straining against my clothes.

She’s hesitating too. I can sense it within her. Oh, she wants me as much as I want her. Kathleen just wasn’t planning on us doing it right now.

You don’t know how happy I am when she kisses me back, her hands clutching my face and the rest of her inching closer to mine, famished and needy.

Oh, fuck.

There’s nothing glamorous, nothing romantic about what we do. I’m lifting her onto the table, pushing that skirt as high as it will go while she rips open my shirt, one button popping off and falling to the floor. I don’t give a fuck. She can destroy my shirt for all I care. All I care about is sinking my hand into her heat and feeling how aroused I’ve already made her.

Ha! Already? She’s probably been wanting this as much as I have. I don’t often read women the wrong way. Just because Kathleen and I aren’t compatible as romantic partners, doesn’t mean we don’t make a helluva pair of lovers.

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