The Next Move

by Lauren Gallagher

  "Oh God…" she whispered, chewing her lip as his belt buckle jingled, gasping as his hand slid under her skirt. Pinning her against the door, he guided her leg around his waist, then the other, supporting her hips with one hand as he reached for her panties with his free hand. He didn’t bother taking them off. Instead, he hooked a finger under them, pulled them aside, and before she even had a chance to shiver with anticipation, he was inside her.

  He groaned against her neck, a tremor running through him as he forced himself deeper into her. It was an unusual angle, and he didn’t have quite the same freedom to move as he usually did, but it was enough, more than enough. The friction was uncomfortable at first, but it didn’t matter, because it just served to remind her that he was inside her. He was there. She felt something. And with each stroke, the friction diminished until his cock slid easily in and out of her pussy.

  Tears filled her eyes as pleasure and pain mingled inside her. Gasping for breath, she moaned, "Oh God, Chris, don’t stop, please don’t stop…"

  "I won’t stop." He panted against her neck, exhaling sharply each time he thrust into her. "Oh Jesus, you feel so

  good, I can’t stop…"

  She let her head fall back against the door, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as numbness gave way to a spine-melting orgasm. Her gasps and cries sounded somewhere between moans of pleasure and sobs, and maybe they were a little of both.

  "Oh God, oh God, Kat, oh God," he moaned, thrusting harder as his body shook. A shudder ran through him, driving his cock deeper inside her, and just as he came, he gasped. "Oh fuck."

  Alarm pierced her delirium. That didn’t sound like a man aroused. Kat’s eyes flew open, and the look on his face was one of sheer panic. Her heart raced. "What? What is it?"

  "Shit." He exhaled. "Condom."

  Her mouth went dry. "Oh, fuck…"

  He eased her to the floor and stepped back. They both fixed their clothes, avoiding each other’s eyes.

  He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Jesus, Kat, I’m sorry, I—"

  "It’s not your fault." She folded her arms across her chest, trying to keep from trembling. "I didn’t think about it either."

  He touched her shoulder and she recoiled. Instantly he lifted his hand away. "Kat…"

  "Chris, I’m sorry," she said, not sure if she was apologizing for forgetting about the condom or pulling away from his touch. "Shit. I’m…" Her throat ached and her eyes burned with the sudden threat of tears.

  They were silent for a moment. Finally, he whispered, "Do you want me to stay or go?"

  She clenched her teeth, swallowing hard to keep herself together as she blinked back tears. She didn’t know if she wanted him to stay or go. She needed him there as her friend, but couldn’t deal with his presence as her lover after they’d done something so stupid.

  He touched her shoulder again, lightly at first, as if testing the water. When she didn’t flinch, he squeezed gently. "Kat, do you want me to go?"

  A single tear blazed a hot trail down her cheek. Without a word, she nodded.

  "Okay," he whispered. He released her shoulder and

  kissed her forehead. "I’m sorry."

  As the door closed behind him, she let out a breath. An icy shiver traveled up her spine. The room had been crowded, stifling, with his lingering presence, but now that he was gone, it was entirely too empty.

  Somehow, she made it to the couch before her legs collapsed out from under her. Hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest, just desperate for something to hold onto, she let everything come crashing down on her.

  Through the tears and violent, gasping sobs, she ached for the numbness she’d been so desperate to escape.

  Thirteen

  They avoided each other for days after the funeral. Neither called, neither texted. That wasn’t to say that Chris wasn’t constantly on Kat’s mind, but she simply couldn’t work up the nerve to contact him. One minute she was furious with him. The next, with herself. Then she wanted reassurance from him, just a sign that he was still there, as her friend, her lover, something, only to imagine herself choking him the next minute.

  When her friend, Natalie, called to say that their group of troublemakers was getting together at the usual watering hole, Kat didn’t have to ask if Chris would be there. Chris and Natalie’s husband, David, worked together and had been friends since the dawn of time.

  She hesitated to accept the invite, but gave in. Sooner or later, she was going to have to face him. Might as well get it over with.

  Staring at her reflection as she got ready to meet the group, she let out a breath. On the one hand, it seemed ridiculous to be so spun up over what had happened, but on the other, the possible consequences were anything but small. She sighed, watching her own shoulders sag in the mirror. The odds were slim that she was pregnant, but they still weren’t odds any gambler would bet serious money on.

  And I’m betting a hell of a lot more than money on this. Even if she wasn’t pregnant, the questions remained about what this could do to her friendship and relationship with Chris.

  Whatever happened, she had to face him eventually. They had to discuss this and they had to figure out where to

  go from here.

  "The only way out is through," she told her reflection. Picking her purse up off the counter, she headed out to the taxi that was waiting in the parking lot.

  ~ * ~

  As soon as she walked into the club, every shred of her awareness was instantly drawn to him.

  He had his arm slung over the back of a chair at the table the group had commandeered, his other hand wrapped around a beer as he laughed at something that David was saying. His casual, relaxed posture sent a mix of relief and fury through her. Thank God, he’s still his usual self. How dare he be so calm and collected?

  Natalie saw her and waved, prompting the guys to glance in Kat’s direction. When Chris’s eyes met hers, his smile fell and his gaze dropped. He shifted in his chair, his entire demeanor changing from casual and laidback to visibly uncomfortable. Irritated, even.

  Kat joined everyone at the table, exchanging greetings with all but one, and ordered a drink.

  This was a mistake. I should have stayed home. We should have gotten together alone and sorted this out.

  The conversation went on around them, but didn’t seem to involve either of them. Chris went quiet. Kat stayed that way. She listened to everyone talk, but didn’t feel the need to contribute. She didn’t know whether or not he looked at her, because she looked anywhere but at him.

  "What? You getting another migraine or something?" Greg asked after Chris offered a terse, monosyllabic answer to something David had said.

  The temperature seemed to drop at the table, so she guessed that Chris was glaring at Greg, but she didn’t look up for confirmation. His voice low, Chris growled, "No, I’m fine."

  "So you always say right up until you can’t see straight," Natalie said. She laughed and Kat cringed. Migraine or not, Chris and Natalie could barely stand each other anyway.

  "Kat, you can usually tell," David said, elbowing her. "Is this Chris being a dick or Chris getting a migraine?"

  Kat looked up from her drink, which had fascinated

  her for the last few minutes. She glanced at Chris, his neutral expression irritating her even more than a smug or angry look would. At least then she’d have a reason to be tempted to throw her fascinating drink at him. She sighed, dropping her gaze again. She had no business being angry at him. It was just as much her fault as it was his. But every time she looked at him, he reminded her how angry she was at herself.

  Reckless sex to mourn a reckless death. How apropos.

  "Kat?" David asked, nudging her again.

  "Doesn’t sound like a migraine to me," she muttered.

  "You know, Chris," Natalie said. "With as many of those as you get, you really should cut out the alcohol. I’ve heard it makes it worse."

  Chris rolled his eyes. "Yes, I’ve hear
d. Alcohol’s not a trigger for me, so…"

  "Well, okay," Natalie said matter-of-factly. "But maybe if you didn’t…"

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris snapped. "Everyone’s a fucking doctor. Look, alcohol doesn’t trigger them. Alcohol has nothing to do with it." As if to emphasize his point, he took a long swallow of beer. "See? No migraine."

  In spite of herself, Kat laughed. Their eyes met across the table, and his smile faded as hers did.

  Then his eyes shifted to the stairwell across the room. He looked back at her, then back at the stairwell. When his gaze returned to her, he lifted his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. To the rest of the group, she said, "I’m going up to the terrace for some air."

  "Me too," Chris said, pushing his chair back. Their eyes met again and apprehension sent her pulse soaring. Her trembling knees tried to convince her to stay, but she stepped away from the table and pushed her chair in.

  The only way out is through.

  Neither spoke as she followed him past the dance floor to the stairs leading up to the rooftop terrace. As soon as they were outside, she paused just to take a breath of the cool, clean air. Even with people smoking nearby, it was always refreshing after the stuffiness of the club and its sweaty, over-perfumed inhabitants.

  The rooftop terrace was mostly open with a few areas covered by a narrow awning extending a few feet in front of the door. Tiki torches flickered around the perimeter, which was surrounded by a brick railing that was roughly chest-height on Kat. She’d often questioned the wisdom of having an open-air place like this in a club where the liquor flowed like it did, but she hadn’t heard of anyone falling over the side.

  Chris shouldered his way through the crowd to one of the slightly more secluded sides of the U-shaped terrace. It was still thick with people, but there was a bit more breathing room than the area by the door.

  He stopped and faced her. "We need to sort this out."

  "Do you really want to do it here?"

  He looked around, then shrugged. "Why not? I’d rather discuss it here and now than keep this bullshit going."

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. It didn’t seem entirely appropriate to discuss their sex life out in public like this, but the terrace was—to a lesser degree than the inside of the club—loud and crowded. There was a certain amount of privacy granted by such noise and distraction, no matter what they discussed, she doubted anyone nearby heard or cared.

  And more than that, now that they were here and he’d opened the door, she couldn’t wait any longer. If anyone overheard, fine. She just needed this out of her system.

  "Okay." She leaned against the railing. "Let’s talk."

  He pursed his lips. "Look, we made a mistake, I made a mistake, and I’m sorry."

  "So am I," she said, speaking just barely loud enough to be heard. For a moment, neither said anything more, the noise around them emphasizing the silence between them.

  Finally, he said, "I should have been thinking straight that day. You had more of a reason to lose your head than I did—"

  "Chris, you had just as much reason as I did. I lost my brother, you lost your friend."

  "Then why have I been getting the cold shoulder all night?"

  "And I haven’t?" They exchanged icy looks. Then she dropped her gaze and sighed. "I’m sorry. I just…" She made a sharp, frustrated gesture in the air, still avoiding his eyes. "I guess it freaked me out."

  "Yeah, me too," he said, lowering his voice. "It was a mistake. But I don’t want it to fuck up what we have."

  She looked at him then. "What we have, as in, our friendship? Or…" She swallowed. "Or whatever this is?"

  He didn’t hesitate. "Both."

  Her heart thudded. "So you," she paused "You don’t want to change what we’re doing?"

  "Do you?"

  "I…" Well, do I? The only thing she’d regretted about this entire arrangement was that one moment of carelessness. Everything else was perfect. The sex was great. Their friendship was better than ever. Or, it had been before this point.

  "Kat?"

  She took a breath and looked down at her wringing hands. "I don’t know what we should do. What do you think?"

  He touched the side of her face, the warmth of his hand taking her breath away. She closed her eyes. Of course I still want this. How could I not want you to touch me?

  His hand moved to her jaw and he gently lifted her chin. "Look at me, Kat," he whispered.

  Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes.

  His voice softened. "Kat, I don’t want to stop this because we made a mistake in the heat of the moment."

  "Except we don’t know if it’s going to be that easy to just put in the past and forget about."

  His lips thinned and he nodded. "I know. But either way, what’s done is done, and if we have to face it later, we will. It doesn’t mean that this whole thing was a mistake."

  "Are you sure it wasn’t a wakeup call to tell us to stop?"

  He shook his head. "I think it was just a wakeup call to remind us to be careful. But I know you, you know me, we’re not going to let it happen again." His hand went from her chin to the side of her neck. "But that’s the only thing I don’t want to happen again."

  She didn’t resist when he drew her towards him. She slid her hands around the back of his neck and as Chris wrapped his arms around her, she realized that she hadn’t resisted because she was the one who had pulled him into the kiss.

  Fourteen

  Their combined weight slammed his front door shut. Kissing her frantically and breathlessly, Chris pinned her hands beside her head, fingers intertwined with hers. His cock pressed against her hip, sending shivers of anticipation from her clit to every nerve in her body.

  "Fuck, I want you so bad," he growled against her lips. "So much I want to do to you…" He kissed her neck, pushing his cock against her hip again. "But I just want to be inside you."

  She hooked her leg around his waist. The position was uncomfortably familiar, but she didn’t care. They wouldn’t forget this time.

  "Come on," he said, stepping back and releasing all but her hand. "Let’s go in the bedroom."

  Unsure if her legs would carry her that far, she followed him.

  As they crossed the living room, he stopped. "Fuck it, the bedroom can wait. I can’t." Grabbing her hips, he turned her around and bent her over the back of the couch, nudging her knees apart as he pushed her skirt over her hips.

  "Chris," she said, breathless and dizzy with need even as icy panic swept through her. "Condom."

  Foil ripped. "One step ahead of you."

  She whimpered with anticipation as he grasped her hip with one hand. The head of his cock pressed just slightly into her, then his other hand was on her hip, and a second later, he thrust into her. The instant he was inside her, something deep down—some knot of tension, some apprehension that had been there so long she’d forgotten to notice it—came undone. The long sigh she released was as much from arousal as it was relief.

  With every deep, powerful stroke, he assured her of the one thing she didn’t realize she still needed to know.

  I’m here.

  Her hair twisted in his fist as his other hand gripped her shoulder. Delirious with pleasure, she pleaded, "Harder, Chris, fuck me harder."

  With a throaty growl, he slammed into her even harder, knocking the breath out of her as she clawed at the cushions below her. The couch bit into her hips, but she simply didn’t care, not with the way his cock hit her G-spot so deliciously, painfully perfectly.

  "Oh God, Chris," she moaned, her eyes welling up from the pain, the pleasure, and his very presence. "Harder."

  His hands moved to her hips and he gave her everything he had. As the room spun around her and white light crept into the corners of her vision, her breath caught and she shuddered. Then her knees buckled and, with the faintest whimper of his name, she came.

  Chris gasped, his fingers gripping her hi
ps even tighter. "Oh fuck, I’m gonna come," he moaned. "I can’t…" Another moan, louder this time. "I can’t hold back." A heartbeat later, just as her own orgasm peaked, Chris groaned, then grabbed the couch for balance as his own knees shook beside hers.

  They were both unsteady on their feet, so they made a half-hearted effort to straighten their clothes, then collapsed on the couch together. She rested her head on his shoulder, listening to his heart pound as his trembling fingers ran through her hair.

  "I guess even booty calls can have makeup sex," he said, kissing the top of her head.

  "If this is what makeup sex is like with you, I’ll fight with you any day of the week."

  He chuckled. "We don’t have to make up for me to fuck you like that." He paused and when he spoke again, his tone was more serious. "I’m glad we’re on the same page again."

  She played with one of the buttons on his shirt. "So am I. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen after…" She looked up at him. "You know, what happened after the funeral."

  He touched her face. "I know, I wasn’t either. And it’s been driving me crazy." He took a breath. "To be honest, I’ve been worried sick about you. This was one of those times when I was supposed to be there as your friend, but I fucked up as your lover."

  "We both fucked up, Chris," she said.

  "I know," he said, running the backs of his fingers up and down her cheek. "But it meant I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me."

  "But you’re here now."

  He smiled. "Yeah, I am." He kissed her forehead. "How are you holding up, anyway?"

  She shrugged. "As well as can be expected," she said, her voice low. "It’s just going to take time. What about you?"

  "About the same." He swallowed. "It’s just, for the last few days…" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wasn’t sure if I’d lost one friend or two. I think that was the hardest part."

  "Well, as you said," she said, sitting up so she didn’t have to crane her neck to look at him. "I’m here now. So are you."

  He smiled, putting his hand on the back of her neck and drawing her into a gentle kiss. "I missed you," he said.