Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Kate
Saturday mornings were my favorite.
Millie would crawl into bed with me before the sun was out, and we’d sleep until we couldn’t sleep anymore. Once we were up, a dance party was mandatory, followed by her favorite breakfast: pancakes with berries and strawberry milk.
It was a tradition we’d started shortly after she came to live with me. We’d both needed a break from grieving and slowly, over time, spending our mornings like this had eased some of our hurt.
On this particular Saturday though, not even all the dancing in the world could lift my spirits.
I was married.
And I hadn’t seen my husband since we walked out of the courthouse as Mr. and Mrs. Blake five days earlier.
I didn’t mind. I was still reeling from that impromptu visit and almost kiss. Okay, maybe I used the wrong ‘R’-word. Reliving was more accurate. Every waking minute when I wasn’t with Millie, my stupid brain would replay that moment in my kitchen.
Without the interruption.
I’d imagine him sliding those long fingers into my hair before his mouth crashed to mine. In my mind, he kissed me like the world was ending. Rough and urgent, like he couldn’t get enough.
Too many times, I’d imagined him lifting me onto the counter and pushing my legs apart. I could practically see him slowly drag his zipper down before he…
“Kate?”
With a jolt, my attention was forced back to the present. Millie was still dancing but I didn’t miss the crease on her forehead. Goodness, how long had she been calling me? Heat crept into my cheeks.
“What’s up, Bug?”
Jumping in place, she hugged her plushie against her side and raised the roof with her free arm. “Can Tristan come over for breakfast?”
A record scratched inside my brain. “Uh, you want to invite Tristan over? Now?”
Millie still danced her heart out. “Mmm-hmm. I haven’t told him all about Jimin, and he said he wanted to know. So...” Her little shoulders lifted in a shrug as if that was reason enough for him to come over.
And maybe it was for her but certainly not for me.
Since he’d left, the only conversations we’d had were work-related. There were no midnight texts or calls.
I’d been more than happy with that.
That stupid encounter in the kitchen had seriously messed with me.
And I didn’t want him in my head or dreams any more than he already was.
I didn’t want to imagine those hands pinning me down while he whispered filthy things in my ear. Didn’t need the image in my head of his crooked smile before he disappeared between my thighs.
And I really didn’t need to wonder how delicious the stretch would be when he…
“Kaaaate?” Millie’s tone was filled with as much annoyance as a six-year-old could inject. “Can we?”
“I don’t know if he’s back from his trip yet.”
She gave me the look. The one I simply couldn’t say no to. Making those eyes impossibly big, she fluttered her lashes and stared at me. “Can you call him and find out? Please?”
“Sure,” I sighed.
Against my better judgment, I went to my room to grab my phone.
Millie followed, of course.
With an internal groan, I plopped onto the bed and dialed his number. Gaze on my girl’s hopeful face, I listened to the endless ringing on the other side.
Please don’t answer.
At least then I wouldn’t be the one to disappoint Millie.
“I don’t think he’s there, Bug.” I gave her a sad smile and started to pull the phone from my ear.
“Hello.” His gravelly voice filtered through the line followed by an unhealthy amount of heavy breathing.
Was he...? Ah, shit.
“Did I…interrupt something?”
More heavy breathing that only fueled those forbidden images already stuck in my mind. It was all too easy to imagine him driving into some starstruck woman while he casually held the phone to his ear.
A sharp pang of something I refused to acknowledge as jealousy or hurt stabbed through my ribs. I didn’t care how Tristan got his dick wet as long as he was discreet about it.
Liar, a little voice inside my head whispered. I promptly told it to screw off.
“I’ll let you get back to whatever”—or whoever—“you were doing.”
My thumb hovered over the red button when his voice sounded again. “Kate... Don’t hang up.”
“You’re busy,” I said, trying my best to erase the image I’d so vividly painted a few moments ago. “And it’s not important.”
“Ah, Kitty Kat,” His voice was more even now. “How can you say that? Of course a call from my wife is important.”
My silly heart did that annoying pitter-patter thing. I hated that Tristan Blake was the first man to do this to me. My heart hadn’t beat so fast and so loud when I’d been with Bryce.
And I believed myself to be in love with him.
“Sooo,” Tristan drawled. “Was there something you needed, or did you just miss the sound of my voice?”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Why are you like this?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” I heard the smile in his tone, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, grittier. “Or that it doesn’t do sinful things to you.”
He was so spot-on, it freaked me the hell out. I would’ve hung up if I hadn’t caught sight of Millie’s expectant expression.
Grinding my molars, I forced the words over my lips. “You’d make Millie’s day if you joined us for pancakes.”
“Why are you changing the subject, Kate?” He didn’t miss a damn beat. “Afraid to admit the truth?”
I ignored the question and did nothing to hide my annoyance. “Breakfast?”
A deep, delicious rumble filtered through the line, skittering over my skin and setting my pulse on fire. “Seems like I got my answer.”
I hated that he knew he affected me.
“Good for you,” I snapped. “Are you coming for breakfast or not?”
More freaking chuckling. That asshole. “I’d love to come. I’m quite famished.”
This time I did poke the red button. He could take his inuendo and stick it up his…
“Is he coming?”
Millie had moved across the room, silent as a freaking ninja. She stood in front of me, eyes big and wide.
It was impossible not to smile at her. “Yeah, Bug, I think he is.” Unfortunately.
“Yesss.” Her little fist punched the air, and poor Mochi got squished to death. Then she was off, sprinting through the apartment, doing heaven only knew what.
At least the place was small enough that whatever havoc she created wouldn’t be too difficult to clean up.
My appearance on the other hand, not so much.
Still wearing my skimpy BT21 pajamas and rocking a mighty bedhead, I looked like I’d gone up against a tornado and lost.
I could do something about the clothes, but there’d be no time to smooth out or style my curls. An uncomfortable feeling settled in my bones. I wasn’t a self-conscious person, except when it came to my hair.
I didn’t even know why. Most people envied my tight bouncy curls. All except Eleanor. Since she and Izzy both had our mother’s beautiful silky straight hair, she’d made it her mission to point out how different mine was.
It hadn’t always been like that. But a lot of things changed after I’d caught her in my boyfriend’s bed.
Shoving thoughts of the past away, I crossed the room to my closet. I yanked it open and instead of grabbing the first things I saw like I normally did, I stared. What was I going to wear? And why the hell did it matter?
Ugh. This was a bad idea. No, a terrible, terrible idea.
I shouldn’t have invited him over.
My groan bounced off the wall. It wasn’t like I could uninvite him. I’d have to deal with these new, weird, and very unwelcome things Tristan Blake had me feeling.
I’d successfully avoided them for five years. Surely, I could do it for a few more months. Or hopefully, indefinitely.
With a renewed belief in my power of resistance, I snatched a T-shirt and pair of cutoff shorts and pulled them on before I had time to second-guess myself. My face got a few dots of foundation—after my morning skincare routine of course—followed by a little blush and bronzer.
Two strokes of mascara and a bit of mousse to the curls finished my look.
Just in time too.
A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.
There was no way I’d reach the door before Millie. She’d probably been standing there for the last five minutes, waiting for him to arrive.
Pressing my hand to my stomach to calm the wild flapping of tiny butterfly wings in my belly, I took a deep breath and headed to the front.
As suspected, my girl had already opened the door and ushered Tristan inside.
One look at the man and my brain malfunctioned. As hot as the ripped jeans and sneakers were, the combo wasn’t responsible for my slack jaw and inability to drag air to my lungs.
Oh no, it was the light gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows that had my heart almost leaping from my chest. And it was the veins on his forearms that popped so freaking deliciously that had my mouth watering.
And don’t even get me started on his dark, wet hair defiantly flopping over his right eye.
The man was way too hot for his own damn good. It wasn’t fair.
Men like him should only have been allowed to exist in fairy tales or books. At least there they could have the appeal and the values someone like me craved.
And since I needed a minute, or possibly ten, to get the craziness inside my body under control, I stayed back and watched them for a bit.
Millie was as excited as ever. Jumping on the spot, her mouth moved at the speed of light. She talked so fast; I only caught a few words here and there.
And Tristan?
That big, imposing man just stood there with a goofy expression on his face and his full attention on my little bug.
My skin stretched tight. My heart beat way too fast. And my silly ovaries celebrated.
Oh yeah, I thought solemnly, this was a terrible idea, indeed.