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He just nodded. “My house?”
“Um, okay.”
“Do you know how to get there?”
“I’m not sure I remember.”
“You can follow me, then.”
He lingered, giving me a long look that made me feel like my skin was lighting up, and then he returned to his car.
I returned to my own, trembling, wishing I could throw cold water on myself or something before we got there.
Youcannothave sex with him.
This was going to be hard.
Chapter twenty-two
BRIAN
Icouldhardlykeepmy car on the road as I drove back home. Several times, I caught myself breaking speed limits.
All I could think about was Alison. Alison’s body. The way she moved in response to my touch. The way it felt to kiss her. The way she tasted. The way she smelled.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was rock-hard, and getting out of the car was going to be an ordeal. For a moment, I considered taking care of myself quickly right here in the car—I was sure I wouldn’t have trouble getting it up for her again.
Then I thought,fuck it.
Let her see what she’d done to me. Let her see how horny and out of control I got around her. I wanted her to know.
She hadn’t said anything about wanting to fuck.
But she had asked for alonger conversation, one she wanted to have in private, which could be code for anything. Maybe she did want sex.
Or maybe I could persuade her.
I got out of the car and unlocked the front door, aching in my jeans and wanting badly to change into sweatpants but knowing I couldn’t do that.
She was right behind me, following me inside.
If she noticed my state, she didn’t say anything. She looked around my kitchen like she was thinking of buying the place. “Have you remodeled since I was here last?”
“Four years ago.” I’d forgotten she wouldn’t have seen that yet.
“It looks good.”
“Yeah… do you want something to drink? Beer?”
She shook her head. “No thanks,” she said. “We need to talk, Brian. Is there somewhere we can sit down?”
I indicated the kitchen table, and she pulled a chair and sank into it.
“You’re sure I can’t get you anything?”
“Will you sit, please? I want to get this over with.”
For the first time, I noticed how fidgety and anxious she looked. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”
