Tess #3
That did sound icky, and it occurred to me that his life might be more complicated than I gave him credit for. “I’m lucky that I get to sell things I believe in, I suppose.”
“You are.”
His hand began its sweep again, up and down, sending goosebumps scattering down my arms. His eyes darted to my breasts. To my lips. I wet them in anticipation.
Then, just when I thought he might lean in, I drew back. “What did you mean that it makes sense that I’m in PR?”
“You work with Kendra. She has the same degree.”
The mention of my boss made my body tense. I threw back the rest of my wine, then twisted to set the glass down on the ground. And so that I wouldn’t have to look at him when I responded. “Yeah. That’s how we met, actually. Georgetown. We were in the same class.”
“Impressive. I was forced to go to Columbia since Dad insisted I be able to intern for him at the same time.”
That drew my head back so I could give him an incredulous stare. “Now you’re crying about Columbia?”
“I’m not crying about anything. I’m telling you my life.”
“Fair, fair.”
“So you met Kendra at school, and that’s how you ended up working with her?”
My skin felt itchy, and I was restless. I wanted to stand up and walk away—from the topic, from the anxiety of my untruths, from the vulnerability of sharing. But like before, I knew they weren’t things I could escape.
So I stayed. “We were friends first,” I said carefully.
“Teyana too. The three of us were thick as thieves the whole time we were there. So after college, when I was desperate for a job, and Conscience Connect was up and running, Kendra offered me a position. I think it was her way of showing she cared.”
“It’s very Montgomery to throw money in place of feelings.”
“I’ve learned that about her.” I’d used that excuse to justify her actions time and time again. She knew how to write a check. She didn’t know how to truly love. Her heart was in the right place, she just didn’t know how to show it.
Sometimes I blamed myself for that. I’d thought I could change that about her somehow.
“I take it you aren’t close anymore?”
“Business relationships change things,” I said.
“Not always, but yes. Sometimes they do.”
It was an invitation to say more, and part of me wanted to even, but I couldn’t get into that with Scott.
I’d have to explain my real relationship with Kendra, confess that I was just her errand girl rather than someone she trusted to share the real work.
We were already on dangerous grounds just talking about her at all, especially when I had so little to go on about his own association with her.
My brow furrowed. “What about you? How well do you know Kendra?”
“Uh.” His hand dropped from my hip, making him feel like he’d moved a million miles away. He ran it through his hair. “Our parents are...friends. It doesn’t seem the right word considering how superficial their interactions are, but I think that’s how they would label the relationship.”
“And your relationship with Kendra is also superficial?”
“It’s not what I’d call a relationship at all, honestly.” He was evasive, his eyes shifting everywhere.
The truth was apparent, but I had to know, once and for all. “Have you slept with her?”
A guilty grin broke out across his face. “I’ve fucked her. Yes.”
“Figured as much.” I was suddenly grateful that Kendra’s separation of jobs and men went both ways, otherwise I’d be worried he knew more about me and my position at Conscience Connect than he let on.
Actually, even if Kendra were less of a compartmentalist, I probably wouldn’t be that worried about it because I was too preoccupied with the fact that Scott had indeed fucked my boss.
That Kendra had been naked with him before I had.
That, as always, she got first dibs, and I was left with the scraps.
Not that any of my interactions with Scott could be equated to scraps.
“Does it bother you?” His eyes twinkled, as though he found the question amusing.
I wasn’t sure if I exactly understood it. “Bother?”
“I thought it would be easier to admit to being bothered than jealous.”
It pricked at me because it was so spot-on. I hated that he could see me so clearly.
So, of course, I deflected. “You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”
“I think it’s actually an indication of what I think about you. What I hope about you.” His hand was back, just a finger this time, tracing along the strap of my dress, sending a shiver down my spine.
How could I resist when he touched me? “I’m a little jealous.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
I wanted to ask more about his fucking/non-relationship with Kendra—how long it had gone on, when it ended, who’d broken it off with whom—but I also didn’t want to know.
Besides, it didn’t matter in the moment because she was who knows where, wrapped up in herself while I was here, with Scott wrapped up in me.
“I don’t want to talk about Kendra anymore,” I said, leaning in.
“I hope you don’t want to talk at all.”
“I don’t.” But my words were lost to the mind-numbing, delicious pressure of his kiss.