Yearn A. Ellis (carter reed .TXT) 📖

Back then, he’d been shy and hesitant. I figured I was his first kiss. But there’d been something sweet and innocent about the way his lips brushed over mine—something that made me think, even if just for one ridiculous moment, that maybe Dre and I could have something. Until his parents rounded the corner and he jumped away from me as if I’d zapped him with a cattle prod.

Without so much as a blink between kissing me and facing his parents, Dre had thrown me under the bus. Told his parents I’d been coming on to him, harassing him, and seducing him. Mr. and Mrs. King had ripped me a new one and damned me to hell and back multiple times. For a few moments, I’d stood there until I finally broke from my trance, realized I didn’t have to take this shit, and walked away.

Dre hadn’t hurt me that day, he’d pissed me off. And that anger had fueled me, made me think I’d never be so mad at a person again. My naivete way back then was astounding because I’d obviously gone on to hate Blaine with the power of a thousand suns after all he’d put me through.

And, until my current situation, I’d truly believed I’d never be that pissed off at someone again. But there I was, so pissed off at myself I’d nearly broken a molar with how hard I was gritting my teeth.

What in the fuck had I been thinking? When Dre had kept yappin’ his mouth, I should have gathered my anger and walked away. But no, my stupid ass decided to shut him up by kissing him.

The worst part of the whole situation was how damn hot the kiss had been.

Even after I showered, scribbled a note with the presentations I’d be attending, and left the room—all while ignoring Dre—I could still taste him on my lips.

Throughout the entire day of sitting through slide shows and discussions and demonstrations, I nearly vibrated off my seat. Anger, frustration, and tension flowed through me, but it was more than that. I couldn’t push away that kiss and how Dre had responded to my mouth on his.

I’d always thought sexual tension was something that happened to other people. Before the drinking and everything else spiraled out of control, Blaine and I had a satisfying sex life—as long as I didn’t ask to bottom—but the tight coil of heat twisting in my belly at the thought of more with Dre was something I’d never experienced.

From high school until present day, I’d enjoyed a variety of sexual encounters and not one—not a single one of them—had ever turned me inside out like one angry kiss with Dre.

And I still had to share a bed with him for one more night.

Fuck.

If Julia wasn’t expecting us to bring back as much information as possible to share with the crew—along with whatever samples and freebies we could grab on the exhibit hall floor—I’d tell Dre to pack his bags and we’d head back to Remington as soon as the last presentation concluded.

Instead, I absently took notes on new research supporting the best medication treatments for in-the-field stroke patients and wondered if I could skip the final presentation of the day.

Sighing, I knew I’d have to attend it because Julia had texted yesterday and told Dre and me that she wanted us to bring back all the information we could gather from the session on meditative practices and mindfulness for first responders.

Thinking about the vast array of presentation choices at the conference, I recognized that mental health was a top focus this year. Based on the years I’d been a paramedic and stories from older colleagues, I knew that hadn’t always been the case. I was glad to see our field of work was striving to break the stigma.

By the time I’d gathered all of the pamphlets, taken all the notes, and begrudgingly participated in the mindfulness exercises, I was ready for a drink. I’d need a lot more than one afternoon of mindfulness to clear my head of the anxiety, apprehension, and frustration about Dre.

Would it really be that bad of a thing to talk things out with him and let go of some of the anger?

I huffed at the thought as I exited the elevator. Anger at Dre seemed like all I’d ever known. I knew anger was the easy way out.

But isn’t it exhausting? It’s not like you’re angry with someone you never see. You’re holding tightly to anger at someone you spend well over half of your waking hours with—and nearly all of your resting hours. Wouldn’t it be nice to lose the awkward tension and unclench those fists of anger?

Whatever. That was likely my libido trying to pull a fast one on me. Just because I wanted to shove Dre to his knees and feed him my hard, thick cock before spreading my legs for him and letting him fuck me into oblivion did not mean that I needed to let go of the anger. Dre and I barely knew each other without that underlying current of animosity, there was no reason to think about changing the status quo.

Except you kinda changed things by shoving your tongue down his throat and now you can’t stop thinking about him.

I walked into our room and tossed the day’s materials onto the little table as I closed my eyes and took a cleansing breath. I’d been ignoring the attraction to Dre for as long as it had existed, I’d just have to double-up my efforts to put the kiss out of my mind.

Dre got back shortly after me and he added his collection of papers to the pile. “Hey,” he hedged, “how were your sessions?”

“Good. Mostly stuff I can share with the crew. Some didn’t apply, but a lot did.” I fought the urge to turn my back on him, leave the room, go about my evening as