Her eyes widened. “You haven’t gotten any since you’ve been sick?”
“Who can blame him? I’m starting to look like Skeletor, after all.”
She snorted. “Oh, come on, you are still so pretty.”
“I’m a far cry from my ideal weight…”
“Girl, your ideal weight is Adam Drake on top of you.”
In spite of myself, I laughed. Kat didn’t know about the added complications—the pregnancy, the agonizing decision to terminate, the abortion itself. I didn’t even like to dwell on those things, let alone discuss them. Aside from the two of us, only Heath, my mom and Peter knew. And, in my opinion, that was far too many…I swallowed those usual dark feelings and tucked them aside. I’d become quite practiced at it.
“Yeah, maybe he thinks my body parts will fall off like my hair,” I said, trying to laugh it off.
“But like, there’re other ways, you know. You don’t have to be, like, going at it like animals in order to have a little fun.”
I watched her, considering that the highlight of my sex life these days was getting myself off when I couldn’t stand waiting any more. Or the only time I got felt up was at the doctor’s office during a routine examination. The subject of my sex life was more than depressing.
“Well, like, how about oral? I mean… you have no hair on your body at all, right? Not even…down south?”
“I’m bald everywhere, except my eyebrows and eyelashes.”
“Consider the advantages to this… I mean aside from the puking, of course, you don’t have to shave! No waxing your legs. No Brazilians. You’re as clean as a whistle down there. This should be like the heyday of getting some good cunnilingus in. You don’t have to worry about him hacking on hairballs like a cat or getting razor burn.”
I gasped and then choked out a laugh at the mental image her words evoked. I tried to ignore the flush of heat that rose from the center of my being as I pictured Adam’s dark head between my legs, licking and sucking, bringing me to climax. God, I could use some of that. I really could.
“And, you know, when you are better, you’ll get some reconstruction work done, eh? You could, like, ask for any size you want.”
I raised my brows and then threw a self-conscious glance at my less-than-impressive chest. “I’m a perfectly respectable B cup. And besides, the surgery was only on one breast and I have to keep them the same size, of course.”
“Bor. Ring,” Kat replied, her deep blue eyes brimming with humor. “No, you see, this is how you play this. You want a nice C or even a D. He will go bonkers for that. More than enough to make a handful! You can get them both fluffed up and since everyone knows what you are going through, you wouldn’t get judged for going a little bigger. Or even a lot bigger.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get reconstructive surgery for a while yet. I’m not even letting him see these babies until then.”
Kat’s ginger brows shot up in her forehead. “You aren’t going to let him see or touch the ladies and yet you are wondering why you aren’t getting any? Girlfriend, I bet if you walked into his room tonight and pulled your shirt up, he’d be all over you.”
I thought about that for a moment. About the angry scar slicing from my armpit to my nipple and the puckered flesh underneath. I was repulsive and the thought of it repulsed him, too. He hadn’t actually seen, though he’d come close. But he’d gone out on dates with Jordan’s model friends while we’d been broken up. There was no telling how far he’d gotten or if he’d gotten breast gropage in the meantime. That he would even remotely be interested in mine didn’t even occur to me, though the thought stung more than a little.
“Maybe.”
Kat watched me, her gaze softening, her jokey manner fading. “Try it. I bet he will…”
I nodded. “Okay.”
She stayed a few more hours. We actually had broken out our laptops so I could show her my work on the secret quest, but I was well and truly at an impasse.
When Adam got home, she opted to leave of her own accord. When she hugged me goodbye, she mimed pulling her shirt up and then pointed at Adam’s back, nodding knowingly. I grinned and told her she was an ass and kissed her goodbye.
And that night, I almost did it. When he walked me to my room after we’d spent the evening watching more episodes of Farscape. I hesitated at my doorway, turning to him like a shy teenager wondering if her first date was going to kiss her on the porch. I wanted more than a kiss. I wanted him to push me up against the wall, press his hard body to mine, pull my clothes off, push into me. He’d done it before and the memories of his touch burned me. I missed it. I missed him.