EMILY
Jason kissed me.
The world narrowed to the simple fact of his mouth on mine. I remembered the way he fit like a habit my body never broke. My chest warmed. My knees forgot their job. I felt good in a way that felt unfair.
Then he pulled back.
I blinked and tried to locate my thoughts. “Well.”
He swallowed. “That was.”
“Unnecessary,” I said. “We do not need to do that again.”
“Nope,” he said, stepping back. “Definitely not.”
I focused on the printout in my hand. My face burned. I stared at the paper like it might give me instructions.
“So,” I said. “Kissing reads as believable.”
He smiled. “Very.”
I gathered my laptop and notebook with more force than the situation required. My hands shook. I noticed and resented them.
“This is going to complicate things,” I said.
He leaned against the desk and watched me. “It already has.”
I clutched my notebook. “We should stick to marketing.”
“Right,” he said. “Marketing.”
Silence filled the space between us. The diner breathed.
Memories flickered through my mind unbidden: stolen afternoons in his old pickup truck after football games, the way he used to kiss the inside of my wrist like it was something precious, the summer we spent tangled in his bedroom sheets while his parents were at the shore. The sex back then felt electric. Reckless.
I looked up and kissed him.
The second kiss turned hungry. Jason backed me against the desk. The edge pressed into my thighs. Papers crinkled under my palms. His hands slipped under my sweater. His palms felt warm against my bare waist. Then higher.
I arched into his touch, tugging his shirt free from his jeans. My fingers opened the buttons one by one.
He lifted me onto the desk. Flyers slid sideways. The brass lighthouse paperweight teetered and fell with a soft clink.
Jason kissed my throat. His fingers found the button of my jeans. He paused. His breath came hard. His eyes searched mine. "Tell me if?—"
"Yes," I said. I covered his hand with mine. I guided it lower. "Please."
He unzipped me slow. His hand slipped inside. The first touch felt light. My breath caught. I parted my thighs wider, tilting my hips toward him.
Jason watched my face. His fingers circled. Then they dipped inside. He moved carefully at first. Slow strokes. He listened to every hitch in my breath. Every small sound I made. When I moaned and clutched his shoulders, he found the rhythm I needed. He curled his fingers. His thumb pressed steady circles over my clit.
My head tipped back. My nails dug into his arms. The desk creaked under me. Tension coiled tight inside my belly. Then itsnapped. I came hard. My thighs clamped around his hand. My body shook through sharp, shuddering waves.
Jason kissed me through it. His mouth caught my quiet whimpers until I sagged against him. My forehead pressed to his collarbone.
After a long moment, I lifted my head. My eyes felt glassy. Bright. I slid off the desk to my knees.
"Em—" His voice cracked.
