Crazy For Your Love (Jensoo)

5| "...You're My Friend."

|Jennie|

Jisoo looks tired and her hair isn't combed but it looks like she ran it through with her hand multiple times, making her exude even more sex appeal than normal. Her long-sleeve T-shirt is molded over her chest and shoulders, and when she shoves her hands into her pockets, her jeans dip dangerously low on her hips and expose the waistband of her boxers.

A shiver runs through me as I remember the feel of her—hands roaming, her hard body pressed against me, hot breath on my neck. Every cell between my thighs and my navel is suddenly doing its best Oliver Twist impression: "Please, sir, I want some more."

"Is it okay that I'm here?" She asks cautiously.

Probably best to play it cool. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She studies me for a beat before slowly shutting the door, as if she was considering leaving it open. Maybe she should so we both have an easy escape from what promises to be an awkward conversation.

"Coffee?"

"Yeah."

I pour us each a cup from the fresh pot and doctor mine with cream, stirring thoroughly as an excuse to avoid his eyes. When I can't delay it anymore, I cross the kitchen to the other side of the island and hand her the coffee. I still can't look her in the eye, so I keep my gaze on her shoulder. Coward.

I frown at the Jackson Harbor Hospital pediatrics visitor sticker on her shirt. "Who's in the hospital?"

She glances down, following my gaze. "Oh, shit." She peels it off, crumples it, and tucks it into her pocket. "A . . . friend of mine was in an accident."

"Are they okay?"

Jisoo pinches the bridge of her nose. "Yeah. Doped up on pain meds at the moment. Lucky as fuck, if I'm honest, but he'll be okay."

"Good. That's my unit, so let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thanks." She takes a breath. "What was Rosie doing here?"

"You know, trying to get the scoop on what happened between us last night and threatening to do me bodily harm if I break your heart."

She grunts. "I thought it was your brothers who were supposed to threaten me."

"I don't have any brothers, so I guess you lucked out," I say offhandedly.

She shrugs, as if she wouldn't mind, or maybe she's distracted. She seems . . . off. "Regardless, I'm sorry she's butting in. I'll talk to her."

I wave a hand. "She's my best friend. I'd be worried if she wasn't trying to pry the details out of me." I wince, realizing we've landed right on the conversation I was hoping to put off until . . . never. "Not that I admitted anything, but the hickey you left behind probably did the confessing for me."

She squeezes the back of her neck and grimaces. Awkwardness threatens to creep back into the room.

Now's as good a time as any. "About last night," I say, at the same time as she says, "I'm sorry if things moved too fast."

I blow out a long breath. "It's not that, Jisoo. It's . . . you're my friend."

She takes a seat at the table. "And you're mine. I'm not interested in changing that." Her eyes wrinkle at the corners, and she laughs, some of that uncharacteristic tension leaving her shoulders. "But if those panties are supposed to keep me from thinking about last night, I have to tell you, they're failing spectacularly."

When that self-assured gaze of hers dips again, I remember I'm not wearing pants. Sleep must still have ahold of my brain for me to forget that quickly. I yank my robe closed and tie it tight, embarrassment licking flames up my neck and into my cheeks.