Page 27 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

It’s not enough.

That prickling thought startled me more than Jackie’s discordant laugh. Where the fuck had that come from? And why did the thought bring an almost impossible-to-ignore urge to grab Jucee’s chin and bring her lips to mine?

“Was it that groupie chick? Lil Miss Afro Puffs?”

Laughter bubbled out of my throat, and I mentally wiped my brow, grateful for the obvious annoyance in her tone, which was the perfect distraction from my wayward thoughts.

“So, it is jealousy?” I asked rhetorically.

Bringing a fist to my mouth as I continued laughing, I shook my head in mock disappointment. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

She rolled her eyes and walked over to where Mercedes was twerking on Xeno’s bodyguard, Lonnie, who stood laughing, his arms folded across his mile-wide chest. Neither of them was interested in each other, but Mercedes had been bothering that man from the day they met. The fact that Jucee didn’t refute my words proved them to be true, and I know I’d just teased her less than ten minutes earlier, but dammit, why did the idea of her truly being jealous make me a little giddy?

Chapter Eight

Cyn

After the Party Is the After-Party

Even though Jucee was singing her heart out along to the mix I had playing, the ride back to my house was too quiet for my liking. I wasn’t distracted enough to not be in my head wondering about Jackie’s laugh and the suddenly inexplicable feelings I was feeling for my friend. Jucee was being extra playful, flailing her hands as she sang, leaning over the console to caress my face, and grinding in her seat. There was nothing over-the-top about it, but for some damn reason it was turning me on something serious.

We’d danced for nearly three hours straight, tearing it up on the dance floor and up in VIP, but somehow Jucee still smelled like she’d rolled around in flowers plucked from a pussy garden. The air was blowing in the truck and my lil air freshener was doing its thing, but tendrils of her scent still made their way to my nose. It fanned the flames of my arousal and brought illicit images of tasting fruit from that garden to my mind.

Had her perfume always been this heavy duty? This...sensual?

As close as we were, I couldn’t exactly ask her that. Maybe she was tipsy enough to laugh it off, or, best case scenario, give me an actual answer. The more likely result was that question would make things awkward. I’d have to explain where the question came from, and that would take me down a rabbit hole of explaining the weird thing with her and Jackie’s laugh. Yeah, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with that, so I didn’t say anything at all.

It was almost four in the morning when I pulled into my garage.

Climbing out of the car, I headed to the door and pushed it open before stepping back to let Jucee in first. When she didn’t go in, I turned around to see that she hadn’t even got out of the car. Laughing, I walked up to the passenger door and opened it. Her eyes were closed and her head was leaning back against the headboard.

“I’m not ’sleep,” she murmured. “I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Mmhmm,” I hummed, reaching in and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come rest your eyes in the house.”

She stepped out of the truck but shook her head. “No, ma’am. I’m sure Lil Miss Afro Puffs is on her way over. I’d rather not hear y’all fuckin’ all night, so I’mma just head home.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed her toward the door and into the house. For all the shit she was talking, she went without a fight.

“Man, be for real, ole jealous ass.”

Jucee scoffed. “I’m into some kinky shit, but that’s a bit more than I can handle right now. That don’t make me jealous.”

“Sure, Jan,” I laughed, giving my best Marcia Brady impression.

In our three years of friendship, I’d never had a woman over while Jucee or Amani were over. Hell, I barely had women over, period. I was more lowkey than that, and on the rare occasion that I messed around with someone who didn’t understand what casual and temporary meant, it was easier—and safer—for them not to know where I lived. The truth was, when women knew where you lived, they tended to pop up whenever they felt like it, and I wasn’t one for unannounced visits from people I didn’t like like that.

Inside the house, I dropped my keys and wallet onto the table by the door and trailed Jucee to my bedroom, where she headed straight for the bathroom while I went into my walk-in closet to remove my jewelry. I heard the toilet flush as I slid my shoes into their designated cubby in my built-ins, so I walked back into my bedroom to check on Jucee. I knew she was tired, but I wanted to confirm her level of inebriation so I could gather anything she might need in the morning. I’d only seen her finish one drink and one shot, and that wasn’t usually enough to get her tipsy, but there was always a possibility she had something when I wasn’t near her.

Eyes closed, Jucee sat on the edge of the bed with her hands clasped in her lap. The sight was hilarious.

“You know, you’d be more comfortable if you actually laid down.”

Cracking open one eyelid, she peered over at me. “You laughing at me?”

I nodded and started to unbutton my shirt. “Absolutely.”

Jucee released a deep, exhausted sigh and moved to stand. I moved in front of her and grabbed her hands, pulling her onto her feet. She came faster than I was expecting, making me stumble backward a couple of steps so that we wouldn’t collide. Instead of standing still, Jucee moved with me, dropping my hands and grabbing handfuls of my shirt.