I scowled at the laptop screen. Not even two thousand words since Killian had left. I’d been typing away furiously, but I’d also had to hit backspace a lot because my mind had been elsewhere. The kiss with Killian, to be precise.
The man had kissed like…
What was important wasn’t how he’d kissed. It was how I’d felt. Molten lust had struck me from head to toe like lightning, the liquid heat pouring through me, making me wet. And needy. And greedy.
I hadn’t been able to remember why I was annoyed about the pictures. Or why it was a terrible idea to kiss him back. The only thing that mattered had been my desire to have him continue.
Holy shit.
If I hadn’t stopped just then, I would’ve dragged him down on the floor. And I wouldn’t have settled for just straddling him like I’d done the day before. I would’ve stripped both of us naked and let him push into me. The intensity of that need had scared the hell out of me. Thinking about having him inside me made my skin tight and prickly.
So thinking about a prick makes you prickly, har har har.
With a groan, I buried my face in my hands. I was being pathetic. A nympho.
You haven’t had sex with a man since you moved to Kingstree.
That was why I had sex toys. Since I wasn’t going to get romance from men in real life, I didn’t need them for orgasms, either. But somehow I wanted to have some with Killian rather than my toys. What the hell was wrong with me?
My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my humiliatingly horny thoughts. I picked it up because that would be more productive than glaring at the poor, helpless Word doc or fantasizing about Killian. I’d have to change my underwear at the rate things were going.
–Skye: Somebody please! I think I’m going to murder Tiffany’s band director!
–Me: Why?
–Lucy: Don’t. There is no perfect murder!
–Skye: It’s a freakin’ fundraiser. Again! We did that, like, two months ago, but apparently they didn’t sell enough stupid candy or something. I swear, we pay through the nose in property taxes for school, but they never have enough money for anything!
I sighed with sympathy. This was Skye’s constant gripe with her kid’s school, and I didn’t blame her. I’d hated fundraisers in high school. Thankfully, Mom had sold the stuff for me, since she was an extrovert.
–Me: I’m Paypaling you $100 for some candy.
–Skye: You don’t have to. You bought some last time.
–Me: Please. If I can’t do this for you and Tiffany, who can I do it for?
–Lucy: Same for me! Save me $100s’ worth of candy, too. Anything with chocolate is fine.
–Me: You can give mine away or eat it yourself. I don’t care.
I was particular about my junk food. And I didn’t care enough to leaf through candy options from Tiffany’s band.
–Skye: You’re the best, girls! Thank you!
–Me: It’s nothing.
–Lucy: Less than nothing.
–Skye: Well, I appreciate it anyway. So how’s writing going? Almost done?
–Me: Should’ve been done this morning, but I’m not even close.
–Lucy: How come? You’re an hour ahead of me, and I’m already done with my daily quota.
I sighed. I envied Lucy her focus and prolificity.
–Me: I’m distracted.