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“No, yeah, I got that. Trust me, I got that!”
“And…I wanted to kiss you, which is really confusing for me, Chloë. But the fact is, since we found each other again last week, I’ve been having a lot of confusing…thoughts.”
“Okaaaay,” Chloë prodded.
Morgan looked at her then. Chloë saw fright in her eyes and she guessed that she might have to now take charge of this conversation. She took a moment to swallow while gathering her thoughts.
“Okay…um…”
God, she really had no idea how to go about this! She was only twenty-four-years-old! How was she supposed to be counselor to an older woman who was “confused?”
“You’re straight and you kissed a girl,” she stated, wincing at the obviousness of it. “Did you like it? Ha-ha!” She winced again.
Stupid joke!
Thankfully, however, Morgan laughed.
“To answer your question,” she said a moment later, “yes, I did like it.” And then she looked at Chloë with such smoldering intensity that Chloë actually gasped. “And I want to do it again.”
Chloë was certain the rhythm of her heartbeat could be heard across the street as Morgan leaned in to once again claim Chloë’s lips in a kiss. This time, it was Chloë who took on the role of aggressor, cupping the back of Morgan’s head just above her neck, holding Morgan right where she wanted her, as their tongues once more danced, tentatively at first, then more forcefully as Morgan, groaning, became more insistent.
Instantly, Chloë’s core reacted, her inner walls clutching, her clit pulsing, her entire center demanding more action. Sliding her hand down from the back of Morgan’s head, Chloë brought it to Morgan’s side and began bringing it around to her chest. But just as she felt the swell of the breast through the bra underneath Morgan’s shirt, Morgan gave a muffled gasp and suddenly jerked away.
“Sorry!” Morgan exclaimed. “Sorry!”
“No, no!” Chloë returned. “I’m sorry!”
Shit! She’s not Sienna! She’s not Sienna! She’s not Sienna!
Because Chloë was realizing now that after so much time being friends-with-benefits with Sienna, that she had apparently gotten used to things moving quickly from kissing to the touching of intimate body parts.
“It’s okay,” Morgan insisted.
But Chloë felt terrible. This wasn’t a lifelong lesbian next to her on the couch, it was a “confused” straight woman who for some reason was really, really good at kissing lifelong lesbians.
“Seriously, Miss Banks, I am so, so sorry!”
Thankfully, Morgan laughed.
“Oh my god! You and my name!” Morgan looked at her, smiling. “We just kissed for the second time—which coincidentally is the same number of times I’ve kissed a woman—and you still call me ‘Miss Banks.’”
When she put it like that, Chloë considered, it did sound stupid.
“I’m sorry,” Chloë said, then winced because she was sounding like a broken record, a phrase she never understood and had always meant to Google. “But what’s going on? Because I’m starting to feel just as confused as you are!”
Morgan moaned and buried her face in her hands. After a moment, she instructed Chloë to stay where she was, got up and went into the kitchen, returning promptly with a newly opened bottle of wine and two clean glasses.
“Only half, please,” Chloë said when Morgan started pouring. She wasn’t close to being drunk but she had had a glass earlier while putting together the cabinet and she still had to drive home later. Unless somehow this night turned into…
She quickly drank a sip of the wine as every lewd fantasy she had once had about Miss Banks—Morgan—came back to her. She was certain, however, that nothing like that was going to happen tonight…
But maybe…?
No, no! It wouldn’t be right, Chloë felt. No, if for some reason things tonight started heading in that direction, Chloë resolved to be the one who made sure they dialed it back a bit.
She took another slug of her wine to cover up the eye roll she gave herself.
Yeah, right!
