And two being that I don’twantto tell her.
Kourtney isn’t usually one to judge. She’ll be the first one to tell you when she’s done something stupid. That doesn’t mean I want to admit I made a bad decision that has eaten me up since it happened.
I’ve been thinking way too much about how Moskins’s thigh felt against me. How heat spread throughout my body. How badly my nipples ached as I got closer to the edge.
It’s been a long time since anyone has touched me, and he barely did. Maybe I should be embarrassed by how easy it was to get me off. One kiss, one touch, and I was detonating.
And since then, it’s been a recurring thought I can’t get out of my head, no matter how hard I try. Then I wind up with a hand between my legs and very dirty thoughts replaying in my head.
“Spill,” Kourtney demands, pausing the show and turning to me with suspicious eyes. “You’re all flushed. What happened?”
Why do I have to be so obvious?
“I’m not,” I squeak.
“Win,” she says slowly, “you are a terrible liar. Do us both a favor and stop doing that because it’s cringey.”
I frown because she’s right. I’ve never been good at lying. One look from our parents as a child, and I would break. I hated disappointing them, and they knew it. Apparently, I haven’t honed that skill all these years later.
But I really,reallydon’t want to tell her about what happened.
“Winnie,” she says expectantly.
I weigh my options. If I don’t tell her something, she won’t let it go. Then it’s going to be a long night. A painful one. I’ll have to excuse myself early, which means going back to my apartment and sitting in silence.
“Winter!” Kourtney bellows, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Get with it. What aren’t you telling me?”
So much.
I’m not telling her so, so much.
And I feel bad about it because she’s always been there for me when I needed her. But I don’t need her right now. Not when it means coming clean about what I did with a married guy.
We’re not together like that, Moskins told me.
Do I really believe him? Emaly certainly doesn’t seem heartbroken over his transgressions. It would make more sense if they had some sort of…arrangement.
Oh my God.
Oh. My. God.
AmIpart of some sort of arrangement between them? I’m trying not to judge, because to each their own, but what the actual fuck? Maybe this is a game for them. Maybe they’re in on this together.
Kourtney hits me in the face with a couch pillow, and I almost spill my dinner all over the floor. “Hey!” I whine, steadying my plate. “That was rude.”
“Ignoring me is rude too,” she counters unapologetically.
Fair point.
I go with a half-truth. “I think I may have accidentally gotten my coworker fired. Well, not me directly. But my client did. And it’s made work a little…” I think about all the dirty looks Farrah has shot me this week. “Tense.”
Anger instantly takes over my sister’s face, like she’s ready to fight for me without any more context. “Did they do something to you?”
Her mama bear energy is coming out, which warms my chest. “Cody—”
She groans at his name. “The guy you went out with? You said there was no policy against dating coworkers. Why would he be fired?”
“There isn’t,” I relay, scratching the column of my neck. I never told her that he’d still been hanging around and acting weird. Then she would have murdered him. Or done inhumane things to his favorite appendage. I’d hate for her to be punished for protecting me. “But he’s been persistent, and I’ve been persistently bad at telling him to fuck off because I was trying to keep the peace.”
