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I kissed her. I didn’t plan to. It just happened, the way a sneeze happens, and it was better than a sneeze.
Kat’s mouth was soft and tasted of red wine. She pulled back an inch, eyes wide, then kissed me again, slowly, her hand sliding up the back of my bare thigh under my T-shirt. I said her name against her mouth. She said mine.
“Is this the apology?” I whispered.
“It’s the start of one.”
I tugged her hoodie over her head. Underneath she was in a plain black bra, her skin goose-pimpled, the swallows on her arm shining in the lamplight. I pushed her back onto the bed and took the bra off, kissed her nipples, her stomach, the script along her ribs that said stick the landing, and she shivered and slid her fingers into my hair.
She pulled my T-shirt off. We lay skin to skin, and she kissed my throat, my breasts, and then she moved slowly down, hands on my hips, and looked up at me.
“Tell me what you like.”
“Slow,” I said. “Then not slow.”
She started slow. Her tongue circled my clit, patient and light, until I was begging, then not slow at all, two fingers working inside me and her mouth on me hard, and I came with my back arched and my fingers knotted in the sheets, her name over and over.
Afterwards I returned the favour, slowly.
We fell asleep with the wine untouched and her arm round my waist.
In the morning she said, “So. Truce?”
“Truce,” I said, and stole the duvet.
Ending 13 of 16: Apology Accepted. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.