She’d opened her lips to him, inviting his tongue inside, and responded with a burst of lust she’d long believed herself incapable of.
Then he’d startled her, crushing his lips to hers, and she’d reacted on instinct, nipping his passion in the bud. Cue the unpleasant testicles incident.
Self-defense strategies aside, that kiss had stirred something in her. Reminded her that she was a woman with very basic needs. And those needs had not subsided with the end of the kiss and her attack.
Dinner had assuaged her hunger. A cocktail had quenched her thirst—and helped with the trembling in her hands. But nothing eased the throbbing in her pussy. The same throbbing that had pulsed to life when Jared slid his tongue into her mouth.
Eleven years ago, she’d have killed for Jared’s kiss, but she’d been a kid. A lifetime had passed since then. So why now, when desiring Jared was about the furthest thing from her mind, and his kiss had thrown up every guard she had, did she silently ache with the need to share another kiss with him? Her friend.
She checked Liv’s room, hoping to find her flat mate home, but of course she wasn’t. She was spending the night upstairs at Jimmy’s. Pity. Some girl talk would have been a good distraction.
Listless, she turned to the kitchen. A tub of ice cream would help.
Only it didn’t. Ava’s appetite was not for dessert.
Perhaps a shower would wash away her desire?
No luck there. The pounding of warm water made her skin tingle, and the slip and slide of her soapy hands only exacerbated its sensitivity. With a frustrated cry, Ava turned off the taps and dried off.
Slipping on her favorite T-shirt, the one softened with wear, she climbed into bed and flipped on the telly, searching the channels for something to watch. A movie rerun caught her eye, and she tried to lose herself in the story.
She couldn’t. All she could think about was the T-shirt. She slept in it so often, Liv teased her that it had become her second skin. It was, of course, too big to fit like a second skin and long enough that it fell down to her knees. The Quiksilver logo on the front had faded almost to invisibility from repeated washes.
The shirt was Jared’s.
He’d lent it to her after a rainstorm, and Ava had never given it back. She’d forgotten all about it, until months later, when she’d returned to her flat—after Anthony had moved out. Lonely, defeated and miserable, she’d come across it in the back of her wardrobe.
Putting it on had somehow made her feel less alone and closer to Jared, as though wearing it narrowed the miles between them.
Tonight, the shirt didn’t offer its usual comfort. It clung to her body, rubbing against her skin—already sensitized by water and soap. And though she knew it was insane, not to mention impossible, she swore she smelled Jared’s aftershave on it.
The feel and the scent drove her crazy. With a frustrated wheeze, she pulled off the shirt and tossed it to the floor.
It didn’t help. The scent still clung to her.
Maybe it was in her hair. She’d been wrapped in his arms, her head pressed against his chest. He’d kissed her. His aftershave could certainly have rubbed off on her.
Complicating matters, the soft cotton of the doona now rasped over her bare chest, teasing her breasts. They were heavier than usual, her nipples hard, and each time she moved, the brush of cotton over them made her want to groan.
Liv wasn’t in the flat. Ava could moan out loud, and no one would hear.
The thought was somehow…liberating. She arched her back, deliberately brushing against the doona cover and gasped at the resultant prickle of excitement.
God, she hadn’t felt that prickle in forever. She’d almost forgotten what being aroused did to her. Ava had been so intent on covering and ignoring her breasts, she’d failed to remember how responsive they were to the lightest touch.
She scraped a nail over a nipple, stunned by the wanton response of her
Then he’d startled her, crushing his lips to hers, and she’d reacted on instinct, nipping his passion in the bud. Cue the unpleasant testicles incident.
Self-defense strategies aside, that kiss had stirred something in her. Reminded her that she was a woman with very basic needs. And those needs had not subsided with the end of the kiss and her attack.
Dinner had assuaged her hunger. A cocktail had quenched her thirst—and helped with the trembling in her hands. But nothing eased the throbbing in her pussy. The same throbbing that had pulsed to life when Jared slid his tongue into her mouth.
Eleven years ago, she’d have killed for Jared’s kiss, but she’d been a kid. A lifetime had passed since then. So why now, when desiring Jared was about the furthest thing from her mind, and his kiss had thrown up every guard she had, did she silently ache with the need to share another kiss with him? Her friend.
She checked Liv’s room, hoping to find her flat mate home, but of course she wasn’t. She was spending the night upstairs at Jimmy’s. Pity. Some girl talk would have been a good distraction.
Listless, she turned to the kitchen. A tub of ice cream would help.
Only it didn’t. Ava’s appetite was not for dessert.
Perhaps a shower would wash away her desire?
No luck there. The pounding of warm water made her skin tingle, and the slip and slide of her soapy hands only exacerbated its sensitivity. With a frustrated cry, Ava turned off the taps and dried off.
Slipping on her favorite T-shirt, the one softened with wear, she climbed into bed and flipped on the telly, searching the channels for something to watch. A movie rerun caught her eye, and she tried to lose herself in the story.
She couldn’t. All she could think about was the T-shirt. She slept in it so often, Liv teased her that it had become her second skin. It was, of course, too big to fit like a second skin and long enough that it fell down to her knees. The Quiksilver logo on the front had faded almost to invisibility from repeated washes.
The shirt was Jared’s.
He’d lent it to her after a rainstorm, and Ava had never given it back. She’d forgotten all about it, until months later, when she’d returned to her flat—after Anthony had moved out. Lonely, defeated and miserable, she’d come across it in the back of her wardrobe.
Putting it on had somehow made her feel less alone and closer to Jared, as though wearing it narrowed the miles between them.
Tonight, the shirt didn’t offer its usual comfort. It clung to her body, rubbing against her skin—already sensitized by water and soap. And though she knew it was insane, not to mention impossible, she swore she smelled Jared’s aftershave on it.
The feel and the scent drove her crazy. With a frustrated wheeze, she pulled off the shirt and tossed it to the floor.
It didn’t help. The scent still clung to her.
Maybe it was in her hair. She’d been wrapped in his arms, her head pressed against his chest. He’d kissed her. His aftershave could certainly have rubbed off on her.
Complicating matters, the soft cotton of the doona now rasped over her bare chest, teasing her breasts. They were heavier than usual, her nipples hard, and each time she moved, the brush of cotton over them made her want to groan.
Liv wasn’t in the flat. Ava could moan out loud, and no one would hear.
The thought was somehow…liberating. She arched her back, deliberately brushing against the doona cover and gasped at the resultant prickle of excitement.
God, she hadn’t felt that prickle in forever. She’d almost forgotten what being aroused did to her. Ava had been so intent on covering and ignoring her breasts, she’d failed to remember how responsive they were to the lightest touch.
She scraped a nail over a nipple, stunned by the wanton response of her
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