Read Online Flirting With Disaster by Ruthie Knox - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ruthie Knox
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you
.
She moaned, lifting her hips against Judah’s thigh.
Wrong thigh
, whispered her brain.
Shut up
, she whispered back.
She shifted, trying to center Judah between her legs and find something worth pushing against, but either he had a dick so small she couldn’t find it or he wasn’t hard yet.
Katie saw the future then, and it wasn’t pretty. It was endless minutes of ineffectual foreplay, a precarious erection that had to be petted and coaxed into joining the party, a bottle of lube located and put to good use …
This was precisely why she’d come close to giving up on sex altogether in the last year of her marriage. Because it wasn’t fun. It was
work
.
Judah’s mouth moved to the tops of her breasts as his hand pushed her dress up higher. She looked down and saw her fancy panties exposed, his leg thrown over hers, his fingernails dimpling the skin of her thigh.
She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
Sitting up as far as she could, she scooted back a few inches and pulled down her dress.
“Sorry. I’m not—I don’t think this is … Can we take five?”
When he looked up from her breasts, unfocused in a way that shouted
tequila
rather than
lust
, she smiled as bravely as she could manage.
“Take five?” he asked.
“Like a time-out?”
That sobered him up. “This isn’t a basketball game, sexy. Either you’re going to let me fuck you or you’re not.”
When he put it that way, she didn’t have any trouble making herself more explicit. “I’m not.”
His hands were braced on either side of her, pressing his weight into the couch. Crowding her. Judah wasn’t huge, but he was certainly bigger than her, with muscular arms that made her nervous, suddenly.
Alone with a drunk man in his penthouse suite. A horny drunk man. Oh, genius, Katie. Really genius
.
She cringed away from him, and his head dropped. He exhaled, his hot breath fanning over her chest.
Then he pushed himself up and retreated to the other side of the couch.
Katie was so relieved, she had to tuck her bare feet beneath her and put the heel of her hand between her eyebrows and squeeze her eyes closed tight. Tequila did not mix well with humiliation.
Caleb was right. This had been such a bad idea.
She monitored Judah from beneath her hand, but he didn’t look as though he planned to attack her. He looked mildly ticked off, as if someone had served him the wrong entree.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She didn’t know which truth to reveal.
You don’t turn me on
.
I can’t stop thinking about another guy
.
I’m such a mess, I can’t even tell you
.
None of it exactly calculated to flatter his ego.
She wondered what Parisian Katie would say in this situation, but that was a dead end. Parisian Katie would never get herself into a scrape like this. Worldly, cosmopolitan women took their lovers to bed, sent them out for coffee and pastry in the morning, and then shooed them home. They didn’t find themselves marooned on couches with drunk celebrities, searching for the right words.
She looked at her hands. “I guess I just don’t want to.”
“I thought you were into me.”
“I thought I was, too. Sorry.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re apologizing?”
“If I gave you … you know. Blue balls or whatever.”
He made a huffing sound of disbelief and shifted a little on the couch. “My balls will survive.”
She could think of no possible follow-up line to that, so they just sat there for a while, awkwardly silent as she tried to work out what to do next.
He didn’t seem in any hurry to evict her. She wasn’t in a rush to get back to her room, either—not after what had just happened. Her emotions were a whirling, tangled mess, and she’d rather not sort them out in bed, a few feet away from Sean.
She’d rather not think about Sean at all. All day long, Sean-related thoughts had been demonstrating a decided tendency to colonize her brain. They multiplied when she wasn’t paying
.
She moaned, lifting her hips against Judah’s thigh.
Wrong thigh
, whispered her brain.
Shut up
, she whispered back.
She shifted, trying to center Judah between her legs and find something worth pushing against, but either he had a dick so small she couldn’t find it or he wasn’t hard yet.
Katie saw the future then, and it wasn’t pretty. It was endless minutes of ineffectual foreplay, a precarious erection that had to be petted and coaxed into joining the party, a bottle of lube located and put to good use …
This was precisely why she’d come close to giving up on sex altogether in the last year of her marriage. Because it wasn’t fun. It was
work
.
Judah’s mouth moved to the tops of her breasts as his hand pushed her dress up higher. She looked down and saw her fancy panties exposed, his leg thrown over hers, his fingernails dimpling the skin of her thigh.
She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
Sitting up as far as she could, she scooted back a few inches and pulled down her dress.
“Sorry. I’m not—I don’t think this is … Can we take five?”
When he looked up from her breasts, unfocused in a way that shouted
tequila
rather than
lust
, she smiled as bravely as she could manage.
“Take five?” he asked.
“Like a time-out?”
That sobered him up. “This isn’t a basketball game, sexy. Either you’re going to let me fuck you or you’re not.”
When he put it that way, she didn’t have any trouble making herself more explicit. “I’m not.”
His hands were braced on either side of her, pressing his weight into the couch. Crowding her. Judah wasn’t huge, but he was certainly bigger than her, with muscular arms that made her nervous, suddenly.
Alone with a drunk man in his penthouse suite. A horny drunk man. Oh, genius, Katie. Really genius
.
She cringed away from him, and his head dropped. He exhaled, his hot breath fanning over her chest.
Then he pushed himself up and retreated to the other side of the couch.
Katie was so relieved, she had to tuck her bare feet beneath her and put the heel of her hand between her eyebrows and squeeze her eyes closed tight. Tequila did not mix well with humiliation.
Caleb was right. This had been such a bad idea.
She monitored Judah from beneath her hand, but he didn’t look as though he planned to attack her. He looked mildly ticked off, as if someone had served him the wrong entree.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She didn’t know which truth to reveal.
You don’t turn me on
.
I can’t stop thinking about another guy
.
I’m such a mess, I can’t even tell you
.
None of it exactly calculated to flatter his ego.
She wondered what Parisian Katie would say in this situation, but that was a dead end. Parisian Katie would never get herself into a scrape like this. Worldly, cosmopolitan women took their lovers to bed, sent them out for coffee and pastry in the morning, and then shooed them home. They didn’t find themselves marooned on couches with drunk celebrities, searching for the right words.
She looked at her hands. “I guess I just don’t want to.”
“I thought you were into me.”
“I thought I was, too. Sorry.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re apologizing?”
“If I gave you … you know. Blue balls or whatever.”
He made a huffing sound of disbelief and shifted a little on the couch. “My balls will survive.”
She could think of no possible follow-up line to that, so they just sat there for a while, awkwardly silent as she tried to work out what to do next.
He didn’t seem in any hurry to evict her. She wasn’t in a rush to get back to her room, either—not after what had just happened. Her emotions were a whirling, tangled mess, and she’d rather not sort them out in bed, a few feet away from Sean.
She’d rather not think about Sean at all. All day long, Sean-related thoughts had been demonstrating a decided tendency to colonize her brain. They multiplied when she wasn’t paying
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