I look over every so often to see Jax and Emma in a conversation of their own. And they both seem interested. The guys continue to talk shop, shouting across the table. Eventually, Jax gets up to go to the bathroom and I can’t help it; I need to know what her first impression is. I nudge her with my arm slightly to get her attention.
“So, what do you think of Jax so far?” I pester, wiggling my eyebrows playfully.
“He’s a little quiet. But nice. Definitely easy to look at,” she comments.
“Well, you can’t seem to stop talking so maybe that’s a good thing?” I joke. She rolls her bright green eyes but laughs anyway.
“Maybe. I can’t really tell if he’s into me at all,” she whispers. “He’s tough to read. But it’s clear Kai is into you despite what Veronica says.”
I didn’t really think anyone could hear us. That and I figured they were absorbed in their own conversations about hockey. But Kai chimes in without missing a beat.
“Who is Veronica and what did she say?” he demands.
“It’s nothing, Kai. just forget we even brought it up,” I respond, shooting Emma a look that screamsplease drop this.
“Ken,” he pushes and I just know like a dog with a bone he is not going to let this go.
“Veronica is a snarky mom at playgroup that enjoys cutting us all down for sport,” I respond, taking a generous bite of garlic bread.
“And…” he’s waiting for the rest of the story. The details.
“And she said that I wasn’t exactly your type because I’m not a supermodel,” I say quietly. “It’s not a big deal, Kai. Honestly.”
“If you could just excuse us for one minute,” Kai says to the rest of the table, extending his hand to me and rising. He drags me out of the booth and to the single bathroom in the dim hallway.
“What, what are you—" but before I can finish my sentence, he pulls me in through the doorway with him. Flicking the lock shut with a click. The walls of the bathroom are a deep maroon red. Bamboo vases on neatly arranged shelves hold delicate white flowers. I hear Ed Sheeran filter in from the restaurant and suddenly, I’m in a fever dream. Kai’s smooth lips are on mine, soft and appraising. Sweet and spicy. I don’t stop to question it. I’m pulled under like a riptide. He grips my thighs,picks me up like I weigh nothing, and my legs wrap around his waist of their own accord. He sets me on the counter, bracing my jaw with one of his expansive hands. His mouth breaks away from mine, but I can still feel his heat everywhere.
“Why didn’t you tell me about cunty Veronica and her vitriol?” He’s smirking despite the edge of seriousness in his voice. But it’s impossibly hard to think when he’s this close to me.
“Um, the same reason I didn’t tell you about Allison in high school,” I reply more breathily than I intended. He brushes a stray hair out of my face and pins me with a stare. He can be so fucking intense at times.
“Because you were embarrassed or because you believed her jealous rantings?” he asks.
“Both,” I sigh. “I didn’t feel the need to correct her and I didn’t really want to fight her in the middle of a public library either.” At this, his mouth turns up.
“So, even after all we’ve been through together, what we undoubtedly have, knowing how helplessly attracted to you I am, you still let shit like this eat at you? Why?” He doesn’t seem mad, not entirely. More irritated, impatient even.
“Because she’s right!” I nearly shout. “Almost all the girls you have been with after me have been flawless, ten out of ten, supermodels. It’s no surprise I’m not a supermodel, Kai. It’s just a fact. The objective truth. I’m not in the same league as them. I’m not even sure we’re playing the same game.”
Then he smirks—fucking smirks. That smile could heal me, I’m sure of it. It’s gotten me through some of the toughest days of my life and I’m pretty sure that handsome grin is what led to me getting pregnant in the first place. “You are absolutely not in the same league as them, Ken. You’re in your own fucking league. You could bring me to my knees with your smile alone.” He moves closer to me, his hand caressing my hip through thethin fabric of my shirt. He kisses my forehead, my eyelids and my cheeks in reverence, his lips a whisper over my skin. “You know how many times I’ve dreamed of your beautiful face? Your delicious mouth? You are every fucking fantasy that I will ever want, that I’ll ever need. And you’re better than a fantasy because you’re real.”
He takes my hand and moves it to his jeans where I can already feel his marble length. We’ve never done anything like this before—been so desperate for each other we hooked up in a restaurant bathroom, where people could easily hear us. But I can sense we aren’t leaving until he’s made his point and I really fucking want him to. He gently presses his forehead to mine and rocks his hips against my hand.
“Does this feel like you aren’t my type?” he rasps. His words sound like he swallowed gravel.
“N-no,” I stammer.
“Jesus, these fucking hips,” he hisses, kneading them with his hands and tracing the top of my underwear with his thumb. “You know how many times I’ve thought about taking you from behind and holding onto these hips for dear life?” He’s kissing my neck now, whispering sweet depraved filthy promises into my skin. I want to beg him to do every single one of them. He moves his hands to my back and slides them into my skintight jeans to palm my ass. “This sexy round ass I could sink my teeth into.”
I’m so fucking turned on and he’s barely touched me, my body strung so unbelievably tight I’m sure I would come from a slight breeze. I know what he’s doing. Trying to make me understand that he’s attracted to gorgeous women but I’m the pinnacle of that attraction. That I’m sexy and perfect and stunning in my own right. And so help me, I want to believe him.
“These curls, this hair. You know how much I love it?” He whispers into my temple, lightly grasping some in his hand andtilting my head towards him. “How tempted I am to wrap my fists around it while your mouth is otherwise occupied?”Jesus Christ. His dirty mouth and words of adoration are enough to unravel me.
“Your body is torturous, Ken. It drives me wild.” He pauses to run his thumb over my sternum. A gentle caress. A question. I don’t bother answering, I just cover his hand with mine and move it underneath my bra. He groans into my neck like every manner of self-restraint is becoming impossible. “These amazing tits fit perfectly in my hand,” he says as he rubs and kneads my nipple. “And my mouth,” he whispers in my ear. “May I?”
“Mhm,” I whimper, not even sure if it’s intelligible.
“Words, Ken, I need words, baby,” he chuckles. It’s raspy and deep. I feel it at the base of my spine, where it melts into my core and sparks a flame.
