Also, Kat is still married. That affects everything. She hasn’t said for a fact that she’s leaving him, and I don’t want her to use me as an escape from her marriage. Especially if she plans on going right back to him after the holidays. I don’t want to get hurt.
Lightly, I rap my knuckles on the bedroom door before entering. “Kat?”
No answer.
Slowly, I push the door open and enter the room—the empty room. Panic starts to grow in my chest. But then I hear rustling in the bathroom, and I take a deep breath. In that split second, I thought she might have left. Complete shock and realization wash through me as I reflect on that one moment of fear. I don’t want her to leave.
I fall fast, I fall hard, and usually, I end up a crumpled mess on the ground. I don’t want her to leave now or maybe even later.
The bathroom door is ajar. Approaching the door between us, I have new nerves to see Kat. What if when I kiss her, I don’t want to let her go? I don’t want to see her go back to a relationship where she feels less than. It would break my fucking heart.
But I would rather have her as mine while we’re here, while she’s with me, than to never have her at all, fake or real.
Kat comes into view, and goose bumps rise all over my skin. Her back is to me, and she is looking down. But I can’t take my eyes off the bare skin of her back and her legs. The only fabric on her body is a red lacy thong. The sweater in her hands unfolds, and I realize that I should absolutely, one hundred percent not be watching her change right now. But every ounce of control in my body disappeared the second she came into view.
As she flicks her silky chocolate-brown hair over her shoulder, she looks up, meeting my eyes in the mirror above the sinks.
She inhales sharply, holding my stare. My lips part as I fully let myself enjoy this scene. Kat is standing there in only red panties, looking me straight in the eyes. I have never wanted to touch her more, to feel her writhe with pleasure because of my hands, my mouth.
Anticipating for her to call me a creep, slam the door, and call a taxi, I wait with bated breath for her to make a move or say something. But instead of doing what I expect, she drops the sweater to the floor and smirks at me in the mirror.
Her reflection is only visible from the shoulders up. Which makes her next move so very intentional, so clear. She turns, and I swear to God, time slows as she faces me, her naked breasts coming into full view.
I am one hundred percent a boob girl, but now, I’m starting to think that I am only one hundred percent a boob girl for Kat. They are absolutely perfect, and they look like they were made to be held by my hands.
I’m practically panting as she takes a step toward me. She is turning me into a fucking puddle at her feet.
Every step she takes toward me only increases the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Anxiety thrums in my chest, the kind you dream of feeling.
Her fingers tap on the door as she grips it. Licking her lips, she gradually closes the door. But not before looking me straight in the eyes, desire and need dancing in hers, and saying, “I’ll be downstairs in five. Save me a seat,babe.”
When the door clicks shut, I decide that I would happily take a one-night stand with her, a day with her, a week, anything she would possibly give me if it meant that I could touch her, kiss her, claim her, make damn sure that anyone she was with after me never satisfied her the way that I could.
Begrudgingly, I drag myself out of the room and down the stairs to our theater room, picking a seat in the farthest row back, row ten. My family always sits closer to the front, and with the darkness of the room, I want to be far away from them in case I give in to my absolute need to touch her.
Throwing myself into my chair, I mentally prepare for being in a dark room with Kat at my side for the next five hours. Contemplating the little touches, strokes of her skin that I can torture her with during the movies, I don’t even realize that my parents, Ben, and Abby walk into the room. But I feel the air change the secondshedoes.
My attention flies to the door at the base of the ramp as Kat walks through, not wearing the sweater she dropped on the ground only minutes ago. Instead, she is wearing a sweater dress with fuzzy knee-high cream socks. I didn’t know that sweater dresses could be sexy, but I was very wrong.
She politely smiles at my family before spotting me in the back of the room, and her lips slightly part. As she ascends the ramp to me, I can’t help but think of how very happy I am that this is the outfit she decided to wear, one that doesn’t include pants.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she quietly jokes as she plops down into the seat to my right.
Chuckling, I can’t think of anything clever or cute to say.
My mom walks over to the light switches and flicks them all off asThe Santa Clause’s opening scene starts on the giant screen. She takes her seat right as light pours into the room when Emma walks in with a cart of goodies.
“Snack cart!” Emma whisper-screams as she rolls the overloaded cart to my parents.
They each grab a few things, same with Ben and Abby. Emma makes her way up to us, and my mouth waters at all of the goodies. Immediately, I grab the sour rainbow strips, a bag of peanut M&M’s, and a water bottle.
“Thank you,” I say to Emma kindly as Kat makes her selections.
She chooses cookie dough bites, popcorn, fruit snacks, and a Sprite.
Quickly, I text Oliver to add those few things to his list, before grabbing Skittles and water for myself.
He likes the message, and I tuck my phone away, settling into my seat as the door down below closes behind Emma.
