Just Sex(8)

By: Heidi Lynn Anderson

“How do you feel about that?”

Kat sat back and tried to relax. “I don’t know. Sam and I haven’t spent more than a day apart since Gary died.”

A throat cleared behind Kat. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll start in the front today.”

“Hi, J.J., join us,” Patricia said.

“No, I couldn’t.”

Heat flooded her insides and her pussy clenched. She lifted her glass, took a sip and hoped the refreshing liquid would ease the effect J.J. had on her libido. She forced herself to turn and gazed over her shoulder.

Kat prayed she looked cool, calm and collected. “Come sit, have some lemonade. I’ll get you a glass.” She stood on unsteady legs and rushed past J.J. into the house. Kat tried to do some deep breathing exercises, but they didn’t help the hard pounding going on in her chest.

“Just for a minute,” she heard J.J. say.

She grabbed a glass and rushed back outside to see J.J. fold his large frame into the chair next to hers. Kat’s panties almost spontaneously combusted. He made the delicate wrought iron chair look as if it was some kind of new sex toy. She wanted to climb on and give it a try.

She must have been drooling because Patricia shook her head and gave her the look. “We were just talking about Kat’s parents.”

Kat set down the glass and Patricia poured J.J. some lemonade.

He settled into the chair. “Thanks.” J.J.’s gaze fixed on her. “I hope they’re well.”

Oh my God. If he kept looking at her, she would never sleep again. Kat cleared her throat. “They’re fine.”

“Since you’ll be spending more time in Maine, I bet your mother wants you to get back with Mike Corbin,” Patricia said.

Kat shot Patricia her most deadly look and kicked her under the table. Kat wished she hadn’t told Patricia about her mother’s plan to get her and her high school boyfriend together.

Patricia jumped. “Ouch!”

“Who’s Mike Corbin?” J.J. asked.

An impish expression lit Patricia’s face. “Just the man of Kat’s seventeen-year-old dreams.” She wiggled her tiny butt in the chair and made herself comfortable. Patty leaned forward on her elbows. “Mike was the only eighteen-year-old in the small town Kat and I grew up in to own a Harley. Kat was head over heels in love with him.”

Kat tried to kick her again, but missed. “I was not! I was in love with his bike.”

A mischievous look entered Patricia’s liquid brown eyes. “I could see why. That bike could vibrate the shingles off a house.”

Embarrassment and anger swamped her. She made a mental note to kill her best friend later. “Patricia,” Kat said in the friendly tone that told Patty she would pay dearly.

“Don’t worry. J.J.’s a big boy. I’m sure he knows what I’m talking about.” Patricia glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. I need to meet Ron. Bye, you two.” She pushed herself out of the chair and skittered off, whistling.

“Bye,” she and J.J. said in unison.

He shifted in his seat and leaned closer to her. “Tell me more about Mike.”

The ball of hot lava boiling in Kat’s belly had to have been caused by the seductive smile he sent her way. She ran her finger through the condensation on her glass. “Not much to tell.”

He grabbed his lemonade and took a tentative sip. “If he shook your shingles, then there’s something to tell.”

Laughter bubbled up from her throat. She touched J.J.’s arm. His heat almost singed her palm.

His intent gaze roamed over her. “You have a great laugh.”

She pulled her hand back. “Thanks.”

J.J. folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about this Mike guy.”

Was that jealousy Kat heard in his voice? She cleared the frog from her throat. “Mike was one of those mysterious guys. He wore all black and rode a black Harley with orange flames. My mother hated him.” Kat forced her hand to move. “I think that’s why I was infatuated with him.” She studied her lemonade. “It didn’t hurt that his bike made me feel things I’d never felt before. Which I think is why I let him take my virginity on the beach by my house.” Kat realized what she just said. Crap. Could you be more pathetic? She picked up her glass and took a sip of her drink. “I can’t believe I told you all that.”

He tilted forward and propped his elbows on the glass-top table. “What happened?”

She closed her eyes and forced out the words that had crushed her seventeen-year-old heart. “He got a girl pregnant at his senior prom.”