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I curse inwardly when I pull back from him.
“Are you expecting someone?” he whispers against the flesh of my neck. “If we ignore them maybe they’ll go away.”
A series of three loud raps on the door draws me to my feet.
I straighten the front of my dress. It’s twisted from my squirming and his hands on the skirt.
Maybe the knocking is a sign that I’m not supposed to be kissing him, let alone touching him.
He was just inches away from diving his fingers into my panties.
“I’m coming,” I call out to whoever is behind the door.
“How I wish that were true,” Gage murmurs as he slides to his feet.
I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile.
The knocking starts again, but this time a voice follows it. “Kate? Wally let me up. He said you’re home.”
Tilly.
“Wally is the doorman,” I offer that explanation to Gage even though he didn’t ask. “It’s my friend. Tilly is here.”
Gage’s gaze drifts to the picture of Tilly and Sebastian hanging on the wall.
“I need to let her in.” My hands run over my hair, smoothing it.
He nods in response, adjusting the front of his jeans. I saw how hard he was right before he kissed me.
If Tilly wasn’t paying me a surprise vi
sit right now, I might be laid bare on the couch enjoying Gage’s talented tongue.
A shiver runs through me at the thought of coming against his mouth.
I could never get enough of that when we were together. I could never get enough of him.
“Kate?” Tilly calls again. “It’s important. Please.”
I move quickly, closing the distance between the sofa and the door in just a few steps.
I glance back to Gage before I swing open the door.
Tilly’s gaze darts from me to Gage. “Oh, shit.”
“Are you all right?” I grab her hand and tug her into my apartment. “What’s wrong?”
She raises her hand in a weak wave to Gage. “I’m Kate’s best friend. My friends call me Tilly, but my husband calls me Matilda. You can call me either, but Kate always calls me Tilly, so maybe you want to…”
“Tilly,” I stop her rambling with a squeeze of her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I have a pint of gelato.” She taps her hand over the front of her large red purse. “Sebastian has a meeting so I thought we could eat gelato and watch a show, but you’re busy.”
I stare at her.
She studies my face carefully, her eyes narrowing. “I interrupted something, didn’t I?”
“No.” I wave the notion away with a brush of my hand in the air. “Gage brought me home. We had some pizza.”
