And so it was no surprise that, by instinct, her hands had found their way to the back of his neck, as though holding it in her hands would make him stay. An irrational thought, she knew, but she started questioning if this was really happening. Just enjoy the moment, she told herself, as she slid her fingers up through his hair. She’d known Johnny for most of her life and had never run her fingers through his hair, and now she desperately wanted to. It did feel like a possessive move, like his hair between her fingers would stop him from leaving. All it did was make her want more; she wanted to feel every part of his body, not with a friend’s hands, but a lover’s. And, having fulfilled one wish, her hands then slid back down his neck, drifting down his chest, to the bottom of his shirt. Her palms found their way to his stomach, and then glided back up, pulling his shirt up with her hands. It was at that moment that she decided that, if she had any say in the matter, they would not stop until he had been inside her. Just kissing him and running her fingers through his hair would not be enough. Her fingertips felt each muscular ridge of his torso on their journey back up. He was ripped, not an ounce of fat on him. She’d had no idea. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so thin, so wasted, emaciated. She knew now, though, that the years in between he’d taken care of himself, just like he’d promised.
When his shirt made its way past his pecs, Johnny raised up his arm, grabbing the bunched up fabric with his right hand, and pulled it over his head. Their heads parted, but Katie couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. What if this wasn’t real? After their lips met again, Johnny’s then left hers to begin moving down Katie’s neck, and he dropped the shirt to the floor. She felt herself quiver and moan softly as Johnny found what was likely her most erogenous zone, the area of her neck an inch below her ear, heading toward her chin. He continued kissing her, making his way lower toward her cleavage. Her lips brushed his forehead, and his hair tickled her nose. His hands moved up from her waist to her breasts, cupping them for a moment, but continuing up even farther. She felt the fingers of both his hands around the top button of her satin blouse. His kisses just above that area continued, moist, tender, and warm. He pulled back, and Katie didn’t know if he was inspired or simply fumbling with the blouse, but finally he grabbed both sides of the blouse just above her breasts and pulled the two sides apart. The buttons couldn’t take the pressure and popped off as her blouse ripped apart. She could feel his animal strength, and even though she should have been angry that he’d ruined her blouse, she instead found herself more excited and she gasped. Johnny was taking charge—he knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it, couldn’t even be bothered with the formality and trouble that buttons caused. Added to a feeling of recklessness, she could feel him growing hard, straining against his jeans, and she felt as though she couldn’t wait any longer. He cupped her breasts again, still hiding under her lacy white bra, and ravenously kissed the flesh exposed by the absence of her blouse.
Katie pushed against him. Johnny backed up a few inches and, still facing him, she grabbed the waistband of his jeans, tugging on them, indicating that he should follow her as she turned her body away from the door. She smiled at him, still shocked by how he looked. This man was not the Johnny she had ever known. He was a man, a desirous, hungry man, and even when she’d seen him with other women, she’d never seen his bedroom eyes, this predator face that looked so foreign to her. He had never looked at her like this. It made her want him more.
She led Johnny to her bedroom, just off the living room, so light shone in from there. She kicked off her shoes, and Johnny bent over to pull off his boots. As soon as he stood up, Katie slammed him up against the wall next to the dresser, craning her neck to kiss him, her lips firm and relentless. She imagined she felt his lips curl in a smirk as his tongue responded and danced with hers. She moved her hand to his jeans, her right palm rubbing him through the denim. His hands moved to her back and unsnapped her bra just by feel. His hands felt hot against her skin. He pulled the sides of her bra forward so the straps slid down her shoulders, dropping off her breasts at his gentle tug. Her hard nipples pressed against his chest, soft hairs brushing them as he unbuttoned her jeans and then pressed against her hips to ease her back to the bed.
He hovered over her, his tousled brown hair framing his face, the ambient light from the other room allowing Katie to see his expression. He had a devilish grin on his face, and his eyes seemed to gleam. He held himself up with his left arm and he lowered his head slightly, nibbling at her lip. She closed her eyes, releasing a heavy sigh, and grabbed him around the neck with both hands, her nails digging into his neck. He kissed her again and then slid his right hand inside her jeans. He barely moved his hand inside, over her panties, and she could feel her entire nether regions throbbing, growing warmer and warmer, aching for him to really touch her instead of just teasing her. Her eyes fluttered as he felt where she was wet and she saw him smirk again.
He took his hand out of her jeans and kissed her once more, then moved to her breasts, brushing one with his lips, then sucking on the nipple of the other. Katie felt the air ease out of her lungs. Johnny raised himself up and looked at her until she opened her eyes. Then, as if he were onstage, ready to do his two-finger salute, Johnny held out the index and middle fingers of his right hand in front of his face and instead of saluting, held them up to his mouth and licked them, then thrust his fingers inside her panties and slid them between her labia until he found her clitoris. She gasped. “Oh, my God,” she uttered, her vocal chords exposing the raw animal caged inside her, and sucked in another quick gasp of air. Johnny’s lips were back on her neck, moving down to her cleavage again. He then kissed and suckled her nipple as he masterfully moved his fingers to a rhythm that only he could hear. Her body, though, soon matched his rhythm and her breathing quickened and deepened, coming in short waves until soon, she climaxed and sang a cacophony of moans in one long chorus.
Afterward, she opened her eyes, feeling spent yet new, and she saw Johnny pulling the chain that hung off his belt buckle attached to the wallet in his back pocket. He opened it and pulled out a condom. He brought the thin wrapper up to his lips and bit its edge, pulling it with his hand to rip the package open. He covered his penis with it in one quick motion and then looked down on her, his brows pulled together, his eyes still glinting.
He lowered his head to her left breast and kissed it. She felt her nipples harden again at his attention. Then he smiled his cockeyed smirk again, licked his right thumb, and said, “I’m not done with you yet.” He entered her and his thumb rubbed her clitoris again, sending her into new spasms of pleasure. She experienced one wave after another, and then he moved his hand to the back of her neck to pull her head up to his face. Her fingernails dug into his back as she writhed in pleasure again, and it wasn’t long before Johnny climaxed too.
He rested his head next to hers as their breathing slowed. He lifted his head again, his smoldering blue eyes gleaming in the soft glow. He smiled at her after she opened her eyes, and she smiled back.
But she didn’t want to talk about it. She felt really good on so many levels, but the guilt began coursing through her veins more heavily with each passing moment. Should she tell Johnny about Grant? Should she tell Grant about Johnny? Why had she done it? And how could she have resisted anyway? She couldn’t say anything right now, even though the glow was already wearing off. Johnny looked too damned happy, and she didn’t want to wreck it.
Johnny rolled over on his back and pulled the condom off. He stood up and looked around the room until he found the wastebasket next to the end table and tossed it in. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull his jeans, shorts, and socks the rest of the way off and then pulled the covers down. He crawled back into bed and rested his head on a pillow. Without saying a word, he patted the bed next to him, and Katie crawled up beside him, pulling her jeans and panties the rest of the way off, letting them drop to the floor. She slid backward toward the middle of the bed, unable to face Johnny r
ight now, so she continued wiggling backward, her back at last resting against his chest, and she let him hold her until he fell asleep, his breathing slow and rhythmic.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t as lucky as he was and lay awake long after he had drifted into a deep, dream-filled sleep, listening to but not really hearing the rest of Issues and falling asleep somewhere near the end of Godsmack’s IV CD.
Chapter Seven
SHE DID FALL asleep eventually, though, and even though her sleep was riddled with dreams of being caught by Grant while having sex with Johnny, she did at last drift into a deep sleep until her alarm woke her up at its usual time—five-thirty. She reached over and turned it off then on again so it was set for the next day, like she did every morning. She took her time sitting up, realizing that her head ached. In fact, it throbbed, matching the beating of her heart. Why did she drink so much last night? She’d known better, even while she was doing it.
She got up and went to the restroom, cupping her hands with cool water and splashing her face. She couldn’t bear to look at herself in the mirror. She may have given in to sleep last night, but that hadn’t prevented the guilty thoughts from racing through her head all night long, and when the feelings of shame couldn’t penetrate her conscious mind, they filtered through her subconscious. Now, though, she found it hard to avoid eye contact while she pulled her hair in a ponytail. She might feel like shit, but she was still going for her morning jog. It might sweat out what hangover was left and then maybe she could think straight. If jogging made her feel worse, she’d cut it short. She still avoided eye contact with herself, though, as much as possible. No way could she face her own eyes right now. Those guilty, guilty eyes...
She went back in the bedroom and opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of fresh panties. As she slid them up her legs, her thoughts drifted back to last night. God, Johnny had played her just like one of his guitars. He was a maestro. She couldn’t remember a time that she had orgasmed so easily, let alone twice in such a short time. And just thinking about it made her feel giddy and guilty at the same time. There was no way to undo any of it. She didn’t know that she wanted to.
“Christ,” Johnny muttered from the bed, half his mouth muffled by the pillow. “I had no idea you had such a smokin’ hot body.”
She hadn’t even known he was awake, and she felt startled. She inhaled, taking her time sucking the air into her lungs. What the hell could she—should she—say to that? If she hadn’t been so wracked with guilt, she might have taken that as a compliment. Instead, she just wanted to bury her head in the drawer. And she felt so...naked. It didn’t matter that he’d seen and felt all of her last night. She spied her bra on the floor beside the dresser and snatched it up.
She wasn’t sure how to handle this situation yet. She would have to say something in response to Johnny. She just didn’t know how or what. And at some point she’d have to tell him everything, whether she wanted to or not. She knew her morning run would clear her head. She’d be able to spend the time running figuring out what to say, how to say it.
And how would normal Katie respond to something like Johnny’s comment? She just couldn’t think. Would she tease him and make a joke about what a slut he was? Would she be shy and embarrassed that he pointed out his newfound admiration of her body? Would she be proud that he noticed the hard work she’d put into it? Would she compliment him on his body too? She was clueless as to how she’d respond if she hadn’t had to deal with this new albatross. It would be best to just let him know right now that she was not at the top of her game, that the drinking last night was taking its toll, and just leave it at that.
She looked over at him. “Thanks, I think.” She sighed. “Sorry. My head is throbbing. I don’t usually drink like that.” She got into the bra, feeling like Eve, hiding behind the bushes, hoping she could hide her crime.
He grinned and rubbed his forehead. “That was my fault, I’m afraid. Why don’t you come back here and curl up so I can make you all better?”
She mustered a smile. “I can’t. I have to get ready for work. And I jog most mornings, so I’m going to run a mile or two before my shower. I’m hoping that’ll help.”
He feigned a shudder. “Crazy. I don’t know how jogging could help anything. Guess I’ll keep the bed warm for you then.” He sat up slightly, running his fingers through his hair. She continued dressing, sliding on a pair of pink jogging pants and jacket. She stared at Johnny’s tattoo sleeve through the dresser mirror—it was a mishmash of color and design—greens, reds, blacks, and blues, one design blending into the next, his arm a canvas for an enthusiastic and expert artist. Grant had been in that spot on the bed just three days ago, almost in that very position, delivering an insipid monologue about how they needed to spend their Saturday in Denver at Pier 1 looking at furniture.
She forced herself to look away and slipped a pair of socks on before grabbing her running shoes from the closet. Johnny said, “It’s kind of weird, huh?” Katie’s back was to him, and, after a moment, she just nodded. He kept talking. “I mean, we’ve known each other for how friggin’ long? More than twenty years? And we never did anything like this? Never even tried.” Katie laced her shoes, her silence feeling leaden. Maybe they’d never actually done the deed, but he had no idea how much she’d thought about it over the years. Johnny shook his head. “Sorry. You’re not ready to talk about it. I keep forgetting. I’m used to drinking like that. I didn’t mean to get you so hammered you felt like crap.”
She stood up, adjusting her socks to avoid looking in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I knew better.” She started to leave and then realized she was being rude, even though all she’d wanted to do was avoid conversation until she’d had time to think—really think. She turned around. “Hey, um, feel free to help yourself to anything in the fridge, or you can shower if you want, or—”
“I think I’ll be snoozing a little longer if it’s okay with you.”
She nodded. “All right. See you soon.”
She hurried out of the bedroom and saw Sam sitting on the couch, looking angry. She walked over to him and scratched under his neck. She whispered to him, “I never said you couldn’t curl up in bed with me last night, grumpy.” She didn’t say it out loud, but she wanted to tell him that he curled up with her all the time when Grant was there. Of course, sex with Grant was contained, safe, and predictable, and Sam had months ago accepted Grant’s presence, so maybe he felt more secure with him. Katie rubbed the top of his head. “C’mon.” She filled up his food bowl and got him some fresh water, then ruffled his head one more time. She pulled her water bottle out of the fridge. Then she grabbed her jogging key that hung on a blue lanyard from behind the door and began trotting down the street.
* * *
Running was a bad idea, and she discovered that less than half a block after starting. Every time her shoe hit the sidewalk, a fresh new jolt of pain pounded in her forehead. She kept pushing herself, believing that it would get easier after a while. But after jogging half a mile, she turned around and walked back. She was dripping with sweat, probably a good sign, she thought, but her stomach felt queasy, her mouth dry in spite of the water she’d been sipping, and her head felt like it was clamped under the tire of a monster truck. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but the air felt like the Mojave. She hoped she was sweating out the alcohol and pain, but she had her doubts. Work was going to suck today no matter what, though, and it was all her fault. She was grateful she’d finished up all the miscellaneous case notes she’d needed to data enter yesterday, because she doubted her mental acuity today.
Worse, though, was that she hadn’t been able to think at all. She hurt so badly that she couldn’t concentrate on her problem. As she walked the last two blocks to her house, she thought maybe she should ask Johnny to come back to her house tonight so they could talk. She should have a clearer head by then. Even if, later on in the day, she still felt crappy, the deed at least wouldn’t be fresh. Time would give her an advantag
e, even if she didn’t think about anything on a conscious level. Grant wasn’t due back in town until tomorrow, so that would give her some time to sort out the sudden mess that her life had become.
The white door to her house had never looked so inviting. She unlocked it and was greeted by Sam. She picked him up, scratching him under the chin. “Have you found it in your heart to forgive me?” He rubbed against her chin, letting her know that he was at least considering it.
She went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Maybe hot, cleansing water could help. She eased in and took her time, shampooing her hair and soaping herself down, the act itself a reminder of where Johnny’s hands had been on her body last night. She almost blushed thinking about it. She still couldn’t think of what to tell Johnny, instead only being able to think of the deed and not the repercussions.
She got out and toweled off, throwing on her bathrobe and winding the towel around her brown mane. She slathered moisturizer on her face and lotion on her body, then hung up her towel and combed out her hair. She then headed to her bedroom to dress. She’d been hoping Johnny had gone back to sleep so she could just slip out to work and leave a note that she wanted to chat later. But no such luck. He was up, sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed. His arms were crossed in front of his chest.
“Hey,” she said, almost whispering. He was not his happy-go-lucky self—she could sense that within seconds. Hell, he wasn’t even the pleasant recently sexed guy she’d left half an hour or so ago. She paused just inside the doorway, the atmosphere palpable, thick. Hesitant, she walked into the room. “What’s up?”
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