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I didn’t expect to hear from Katie. It might be days before she reaches out, but that kiss held promise and she felt it too. There’s no way in hell she can ignore that.
Chapter 28
Kate
Guilt crawls up my skin as I stand outside Tin Anchor.
It’s not because I rushed out of Palla on Fifth last night to see Tilly.
I needed her romantic view of what could be between Gage and me. We spent more than an hour talking about how the kiss made me feel.
It was a flashback to college when I raced over to Mariah Larson’s dorm room to tell her that I’d kissed Gage Burke.
I’ll never forget the flicker of disappointment on my friend’s face before she screamed in delight.
Six months later I found out that Mariah wanted him.
Tilly doesn’t want Gage. Last night, it was all about how I felt.
When I was with Tilly at a bar down the street from Premier Pet Care, I confessed that the kiss had curled my toes and sparked something that I haven’t felt in five years.
When I went home, my hand dove into my panties and I got off to the memory of Gage inside of me.
In my imagination, his thrusts were strong and wild. He breathed heavy on my neck, whispering that he loved how good I felt.
This morning, I swore to myself that I’d forget the kiss ever happened.
By noon, I was dreaming about another one.
It’s eight p.m. now and I’m wondering why the hell I’m standing on this sidewalk and not at home, thinking about anything but my ex-fiancé and how incredible it feels to kiss him.
I shouldn’t have touched myself last night. I definitely shouldn’t have done it with images of Gage’s naked body dancing in my mind.
“Katie?”
The deep timbre of Gage’s voice shoots right to my core. I close my eyes to ward off the memory of him growling out my name when I had his cock in my mouth for the first time years ago.
I thought he was inside the bar, but he’s standing behind me.
I swipe a hand over my forehead and turn to face him.
Dammit.
The man can make anything look good, especially a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt and a panty-dropping smile.
I inch my hand over my hip to make sure my lace panties are still in place under my pink dress.
“Gage,” I say his name to give myself a second to find some composure.
“It’s good to see you.” His gaze drops to the front of my wrap dress.
I know my nipples have hardened, even though the temperature is hovering around eighty degrees.
I don’t repeat the sentiment to him because I know he’ll comment about how he can tell that I’m happy to see him.
I need to invest in something other than thin lace bras.
“Can I make you a drink?” He gestures to the door of Tin Anchor. “A dirty martini with two olives.”
