But that’s not to say I didn’t have any feelings regarding Kate, because hello…I’m feeling fucking guilty here. Of course there were feelings. I mean, that was the whole fucking point of me crossing the line with her. She fucking made me feel.
But I’m all kinds of screwed up in the head about it now, and the longer I stayed away from her, the more my guilt started to lessen where Gina was concerned. The more my guilt lessened, the more my desire for Kate kicked back into high gear.
I’m sensing a vicious cycle starting.
We had a game tonight against the Denver Blue Devils. I played okay…not stellar, and I’m a little pissed at myself for it. But my head wasn’t in the game fully. While I didn’t directly think about Gina or Kate or fantastic fucking hand jobs by my son’s smoking-hot yet nerdy nanny during the game itself, I know my mind was unsettled enough over all of this that it was hindering my ability to truly focus. I left the ice not even coming close to scoring a point for my team.
I declined the invitation from several of the players to go out. Alex and Garrett weren’t going, opting instead to go home with their honeys, and frankly, I started obsessing about Kate being at home…in her bed…possibly in that little tank top and boy shorts…until I couldn’t think about anything but getting to my house and climbing the staircase to her room.
And as I stand here now in the kitchen, lightly flipping a foil-wrapped condom through my fingers, I list all the pros and cons in my head of what I’m considering doing at this very moment.
If I walk up those stairs and into Kate’s bedroom, it is guaranteed that I’m going to have some mind-blowing sex. That means opening myself up to feeling and, most important, being able to abandon for a blessed moment the guilt and grayness of my life.
All great things.
The cons if I walk up those stairs and crawl into Kate’s bed are daunting. I could potentially be fucking with Kate’s head as well as her body, because this is just sex for me. I can’t let it be anything else, and I’m sorry, but most women just can’t do that. I know for a fact Kate has too much heart to ever settle for just that.
I could be fucking with my own head. If buying a box of condoms made me feel like I was betraying Gina, what would fucking Kate do? Could it push me further into my darkness? What if I get so fucked in the head that it affects Ben?
And worst of all…although it is practically impossible…what if I start to feel something for Kate in return? Getting into a relationship with someone terrifies me. I was such a miserable failure to Gina when I look back on everything, how could I possibly put someone else at risk for that?
The list of cons greatly overshadows the pros.
I should dump the condom in the garbage and head to bed. I should leave Kate alone and simply jack off to the fantasy of what could be if I went to her. I certainly didn’t have a problem doing that last night when I took a shower. But I didn’t fantasize about what could be, but rather just remembered the absolutely perfect hand job Kate gave me the other day. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. I don’t ever remember coming as hard as I did that day.
Fuck it.
Fuck the consequences. Fuck the cons.
More important, I’m going upstairs to fuck Kate right now.
—
Taking a deep breath, I twist the doorknob and slowly push inward. I had peeked in on Ben first, and he was deep asleep.
Soft light from her bedside lamp hits me and I steel myself to meet Kate’s questioning gaze. Except she’s not awake. She’s sleeping with a book across her chest and her glasses still on, her covers pulled up just under her breasts. One delicate hand rests on top of the book, the other stretched on the pillow above her head.
For a split second I think about just backing out of her room. Leaving her alone. Leaving behind the opportunity to feel again.
But I’m going to be a selfish fuck instead, so I step inside, close the door softly, and flick the lock. I doubt Ben will wake up, but I don’t want to take the chance he could walk in on us.
Silently I stalk to the side of Kate’s bed and gently lower my hip to the edge. She stirs slightly, but settles again. Her hair is fanned out underneath her and I can smell a hint of apples, I’m assuming from her shampoo. It suits her well.
I take the book from her, sliding it out from under her hand. Then I remove her glasses, causing her to wrinkle her nose slightly in her sleep. I place them both on the table by her bed and take a moment to stare at her…to best consider how this needs to be done.
I don’t know if I’m welcome here. I’ve avoided Kate for two days, and she could be mad at me for all I know. Not going to stop me from trying, though.