Her mind replayed last evening’s disturbing events: Keri’s hand sliding up her thigh; Keri’s leg fitting perfectly into the Y of her body; Keri’s arm around her waist and their breasts pressing painfully against each other’s erect nipples. But most distracting was the consuming hunger of their kiss. She fought the urge to close her legs around the gathering heat. Alex hadn’t felt so excited by a touch or a kiss since Helen. But Keri Morgan was probably just as dangerous as Helen, for different reasons—maybe even more so.
With Helen their connection had been all about control and sex. But Keri seemed genuinely interested in her feelings. And then there was the emotional hand grenade Keri lobbed into her lap before leaving her alone and aching in the car. Alex had never considered herself some sort of twisted masochist. But maybe she needed Helen’s variety of rough physicality or the anonymity of strangers to feel alive. Perhaps she was incapable of the intimate connections borne of human kindness.
