Of course, he should have thought of that before he’d slept with her. But his desire for Kate had been stronger than every other instinct. Even now, he couldn’t regret giving in to it.
It was the best sex he’d ever had. And unlike Kate, he had a lot to compare it with.
“All right, so . . . I guess I’ll see you Tuesday. You’re still picking Jacob up after school, right?”
“That’s the plan,” Kate said, her voice sounding happy and relaxed.
That was both good and bad—good because there wouldn’t be an ugly scene right now, bad because an ugly scene might still be looming in their future.
Well, he’d deal with that when—and if—it happened. Maybe once Kate’s afterglow faded, she’d realize she’d just been rebounding with him. Maybe she’d be relieved to find out he wasn’t expecting to repeat the experience.
She walked him to the door and tilted her head for a goodbye kiss.
He gave her one, planning to keep it short. But the minute their mouths touched he was lost.
She had to have the same morning breath he did, but maybe they cancelled each other out. Because all he could taste was Kate—hot, sweet, irresistible Kate.
He let the game box fall to the floor and put his hands on her hips, driving her back against the door as he kissed her hard and deep. She made a little, sweet sound in her throat, and just like that he was hard for her.
It seemed like a long, dizzying time before he came to his senses. But he did, finally, pulling back and trying to catch his breath.
Kate looked as dazed as he felt. Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen, and he had to tear his eyes from her to pick up the game he’d dropped.
“Well.” His voice came out gruff, and he cleared his throat. “Thanks again for . . . everything.”
“My pleasure,” Kate said with a sudden grin, and his stomach muscles tightened.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
“See you Tuesday.”
Once her door closed behind him, he practically ran for the elevator.
He went from her place straight to his gym, figuring he could use a workout even if Mick wasn’t there. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember when his friend was coming back from his honeymoon. Maybe he was still in Hawaii.
But when Ian pushed open the door to the locker room, Mick was there, getting changed.
“Hey, man. How was the honeymoon?”
Mick grinned. “Fantastic. Married life suits me.”
“You do look tan—and smug.”
“You’d look smug, too, if you were smart enough to marry a woman like Wendy.”
It was nice to see his friend so happy. “Maybe I would.”
Ian had a permanent locker so he could keep workout gear here. He didn’t waste any time getting out of his clothes—they still smelled like Kate, which made him feel tense and aroused at the same time—and into shorts and a tee shirt.
“Are you up for some basketball?” he asked Mick.
“Sounds good.”
It was a more-than-usually hard-fought game, and Ian relished the intense focus that sports always brought out in him. It helped to drive out thoughts of Kate, just as the sweat that soaked his tee shirt and stung his eyes helped drown out her scent and the memory of her hands on his skin.
After they called it quits, Ian took a hot shower that banished the last traces of her from his body. He felt almost back to normal as he toweled off and dressed in the spare khakis and polo shirt he kept in his locker.
“You looked good out there,” he told Mick as they walked out together.
“Yeah? Well, you looked like you had some kind of demon on your tail. What the hell is up with you?”
Ian stopped walking. “What do you mean? Why do you think something’s up?”
Mick stopped walking, too. “Are you kidding? I’ve known you since we were twelve years old. I know when something’s bothering you.”
It was true. Mick was his oldest friend. They’d met when they’d joined the Dungeons & Dragons club in junior high, and they’d gone on to play basketball together. They’d stayed friends when he moved to the Bronx and even during his asshole phase, in spite of the fact that he’d burned a lot of bridges during those years. And when they’d ended up at the same college, their friendship had been solidified for good.
“I haven’t had coffee yet,” he said gruffly. It was an oblique response, but Mick seemed to understand.
“The diner up the street?”
“Yeah.”
A few minutes later they were sitting at a Formica table with steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. Mick had ordered breakfast, but Ian didn’t feel like eating.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said as the waitress walked away. “I just slept with a woman last night.”