Page 22 of Last First Time
But she pushes me away. “Reed, not here and not now.” She brushes away imaginary debris from her dress. “Those men were looking at me like I was a tasty snack.”
My fists clench. “And I still feel like breaking something because of it. Now please kiss me.”
She sighs but runs her fingers along my chest in a soothing pattern. “Making out doesn’t solve anything.”
“Says you.” I want to touch her everywhere. She’s driving me crazy by her very existence.
“That’s right says me.” She puts her hands on her hips and kicks up an eyebrow at me. Even in the dark, her eyes glitter in challenge. “You gonna change my mind?”
I grin at her. Now we’re back where we belong all the time, playful and about to make out with one another. “Let’s find out.”
We slide farther away from the doorway, our mouths seeking one another out, her hands roaming across my tuxedo jacket and mine sliding through the heavy curtain of her hair. Her breath is hot and frantic across my lips, and I want to slip my hand under the heavy skirt and make her come on my hand right here, but unfortunately, we are still in public.
Public, as in that place where I’m supposed to be at work. That place with all the people in it.
“I can’t believe the way that trashy woman was hanging all over the mayor.” The woman’s voice cuts across the patio in ugly tones that are nasal, haughty, and far too loud.
We stop, mid-make out. “Do you think he was fucking a different girl right before he came here? If so, I almost feel sorry for her,” comes the response, high-pitched and whiny.
I grind my teeth together. How dare they talk about my Kar that way? She’s actually shaking in my arms. I rub my hands along her shoulders, trying to soothe her without words. I don’t want these two women to find us here and up the attack on the woman with me. I’m supposed to protect Kar, help her enjoy tonight. And here we are, trapped on this patio listening to these awful people talk nasty about us.
“He probably reeks of baby powder and glitter under that tuxedo, if you know what I mean.” Nasal and haughty is definitely on a roll tonight, probably drunk but not in the fun way. Both of the society bitches burst into mean, sharp cackles.
And finally Kar makes a noise. Oh God, she’s shaking even harder. I’m going to have to stop this right now.
Wait, is she laughing?
“Who’s there?” says Whiny.
“It’s me, the mayor’s trashy date.” Kar’s laughter, when unleashed, rings out loud and exuberant. She tows me along behind her and moves toward the pair of piranha women.
She gazes at the two women involved in the shit talking, giving each of them a slow, judgment-filled up and down glare. “Ladies, let me be the one to tell you that Reed Harrington IV smells like political success and old money. Not a goddamned stripper.” She laughs again, a sweet and rich sound in this stifling place. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the men you’re with, but if they smell like baby powder, you either want to get tested for VD or get them potty trained.”
I bark out a laugh. One of my absolute favorite things about K.T. is that she has no real filter. She always says whatever comes to mind, consequences be damned. She is the only person in Valentine who would ever suggest to these old money women that their husbands need to be potty trained. Especially right up in their faces at some society fundraiser event.
The two town pseudo-royalty look from one to the other of us, clearly aghast. “Well, I never,” huffs the Nasal one, Heloise Hochgesang.
Kar gives her a sharp, toothy smile. “Obviously, honey.” She pulls me closer again. “And I’m so sorry for you because of that. But now if you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to having your two pathetic husbands kiss Reed’s ass in exchange for some more political favors.”
I am struck speechless as she blows a kiss to the women, giving them a snarky little fingertip wave and then drags me toward the ballroom doors.
As we near the doors, I hear a slow clap that speeds up into actual applause as we approach. Wearing a too-tight hot pink gown that appears to be half lace and half taffeta, the town’s resident dirty old lady, Opal Marie Hopf gives K.T. a noisy high five once she’s in range.
Then Kar turns to me. “You’d better be prepared to make this up to me later. Twice.”
“Three times,” I murmur as I lean toward her neck, brushing my lips against her pulse.
“Make it four,” Aunt Opal mutters. “This party really sucks.”
“K.T., I’m so sorry. This party really does suck, doesn’t it?” I rub little circles across the back of her hand with my thumb.
“Reed, I knew this was a business event for you. Politics bores me to death, so I knew this wasn’t going to be the best night of my life. But I came here with you anyway, so that’s something, isn’t it?” Her eyes meet mine again.
“It’s better than just something, Kar. If we have to be at a sucky party getting shit talked by some old money women, there is nobody I’d rather do that with than you.”
“Atta boy,” crows Aunt Opal. “I’m going to get a drink now. You guys should either drink a lot more or go home and get started on the sexy times.”
“I’m voting for the sexy times,” I murmur into the shell of her ear. “There’s nothing hotter to me than watching you take down those nasty society women.” I press myself against her, so she can feel what she’s done to me.
