On the Flipside.

Chapter thirteen

In that moment, all rational thoughts went out the window. Kane's hands roamed the length of her body and she melted under his touch. She'd waited for so long for him to touch her like this; dreamed of the moment several times, and now it was finally happening. It was everything she had anticipated and more. 

He brought his hand up to cup her face and ran his thumb along her cheek, then guided her to the sofa, not once breaking the contact between them. In an instant, her shirt was laying on the floor, shortly followed by her bra and skirt. 

Kane broke the kiss and made his way down her body, paying extra attention to her breasts, lapping up her taste. She gasped and closed her eyes. 

"We can't do this." She whispered. "It's not right."

He bent his head down again and licked her stomach. "Don't tell me you don't want this, Immy. I see how you look at me."

She blushed and turned her head. "Th-that's not the point. Whether I want this or not doesn't - oh, it doesn't . . . Kane."

"Mm hmm. See. You want this. You want me."

"I do." she admitted. "I do want this, and I do want you, but we can't, Kane. Not now. You're drunk."

"So what?" He asked, lifting his gaze to look at her. Seeing her expression, he huffed and pulled himself up. "God, you're so uptight."

Imogen scoffed and propelled herself up from the sofa, grabbing her clothes. "You know what, I came here to help you and you took advantage of my good nature. You're right, Kane. You're absolutely right. I want you. I've wanted you for such a long while. But that doesn't give you the divine right to maul me and then call me uptight. I'm going to get dressed and leave. Please refrain from using the Lord's name in vain again until I've left - I don't wish to hear it."

She stumbled around in her anger and struggled to keep balance as she pulled her skirt on. Her body shook and trembled. 

Kane laughed. "Oh, is that right? Are you a God bother-er now? What a crock of-"

"Goodbye, Kane." She pulled the sleeves of her shirt on and grabbed her bag. "You're clearly a troubled person and if you're not willing to talk, I can't help. I hope the business does well and the new venture with Layton works. To be honest, I think you're making a silly decision, but what do I know? I'm just a Christian with no common sense."

He didn't reply, but snickered at her words and shook his head until he heard the door slam, signaling her retreat. Groaning, he stood up and made his way to the window to watch her leave. He couldn't understand what had come over him. The feeling he'd had before he crushed himself into her was one of lust, of desire. But she was right; he was drunk. He was taking advantage of her and it wasn't like him at all. 

Movement to the left of his vision caught his gaze and he took in the sight of her bending to get in her car. Her long slender legs lifted up to her stomach, sliding into the seat and her shirt rode up revealing the side of her stomach. 

The memory of her laying underneath him just moments before taunted his mind. He may be intoxicated, but he remembered every detail of her chest and stomach, the way her hips rose from the sofa when he caught a sensitive spot, the way she moaned his name. Just the thought of it was magical, stirring up something inside of him, the ache to feel her touch one more time prominent in his lower half. 

He tugged on his shorts and relieved the pressure, then began to turn back to the sofa when something caught his eye. It was only brief, but he was sure it was there and his mouth dropped open in shock. He hadn't seen that in nineteen years. He wasn't even sure it was possible. 

He ran to the phone and pulled it from the dock, fumbling with the buttons and when the line was answered, he growled down the phone, "What do you know about Hannah?"