Chapter 9 – nate
NATE
Cat stands frozen in the entryway, her eyes glued to my bath towel.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “You’re—sorry, I—well, it’s your house, but, uh…”
By the way she’s rambling, it’s obvious she’s had a few too many drinks. My cock has no business getting hard from just looking at her.
She looks stunning, her honey-blonde hair hanging loose in natural, messy curls that I want to sink my fingers into. Her shimmery dress emphasizes the golden undertones of her pale skin. She looked like a fairy back in Velvet & Vice, some magical creature flitting through the darkness.
My jaw clenches.
Earlier tonight, Ryan asked me to meet him for a drink at the club.
We spent maybe half an hour catching up before some leggy redhead caught his attention.
He called her over to our booth, and minutes later, he had her straddling him and grinding against him like they were the only two people in the room.
I was all too happy to take my cue to leave. Until I saw Cat, smiling and holding a glass of wine.
I should have gone upstairs the second I spotted her. Whatever Cat was doing at Velvet & Vice, it wasn’t my business.
Then Cat went to help a girl who tripped and was struggling to get back up in her too-high heels, leaving her drink completely unattended on a table where anyone could have slipped something in it.
Granted, that wasn’t likely at Beau’s club, since he uses UPS security.
But why the fuck wasn’t she being more vigilant?
Pretty girls like her are catnip for predators.
I had to leave before I stormed down there and scolded her in front of the whole club. I texted the head of club security to keep an eye on her and went down to the gym to work out my frustration. When I didn’t hear from him, I assumed that meant she was still safe and dancing downstairs.
Instead, she’s in my living room. Staring at me.
“I–I should—go to bed, but maybe some water first,” she stammers.
She starts moving, apparently deciding to change direction in the middle of her sentence. With her concentration lost, she trips over her own heels.
Instinctively, I dive forward to catch her before she faceplants. Grabbing her arms, I pull her up and against me. I allow myself the indulgence of three seconds to smell her soap—vanilla and honey—before I pull away.
“Are you alright?”
Cat doesn’t answer. Her eyes go wide as she stares down at where my towel once was. Fuck. When I caught her, I apparently knocked the damn thing loose.
“That’s—you’re…” She ends there, apparently lost for words.
I bend to grab the towel and cover myself again before she can finish her sentence.
“I thought you were out,” I mutter.
“I was. Just got back, obviously.” She glances down again and giggles. “You shouldn’t just go walking around in a towel when you have guests, you'll give someone a heart attack, looking like that.”
I cock my head. “Like what?”
Cat throws her head back and laughs. “God, are those real? Or are they like implants or something?” To my shock, she runs her fingers across my abs. The feeling goes straight to my cock, which was already half-hard just from holding Cat upright.
I have to distract her. “Do I really seem like the kind of guy who gets ab implants?”
“Maybe. I don’t know you that well yet. If I want to be sure, I’d better check again.
” Cat flattens her hand against my stomach and giggles.
Fuck, does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?
I would flex my abs for her if every fiber of my being wasn’t focused on not getting so hard that she can see my erection through my towel.
I can’t tell if she’s just being playful or if she’s actually coming on to me. I still can’t read Cat the way I can other people. Can she really be as sweet and innocent as she comes across?
Earlier, I was furious with her for recklessly abandoning her drink at the club. That anger has already ebbed away by now. Something about this woman after she’s had a few drinks is completely disarming.
Probably has something to do with the fact that she’s touching me.
I’m just glad she’s here, where I can see for myself that she’s safe.
“If you’re done groping me, we should probably get you back to your room.”
She pouts teasingly but drops her hand. I instantly miss her touch, which is beyond stupid. I should be putting as much distance between us as I can. Cat works for me now. Any touch more intimate than a handshake is highly inappropriate.
Right now, I’m having trouble reaching the part of me that gives a fuck.
Setting my hand on her lower back, I lead her down the hallway toward the guest room. Even through her dress, I can feel the heat of her body. I wish I could let my hands wander a little. I want to feel the rest of her, the curve of her waist, the weight of her tight little ass—
Almost like she can hear me, Cat reaches up for the zipper on the back of her dress. She fumbles with it, having a hard time gripping it with the awkward angle. “Ugh, I can’t reach. Can you help me?”
Dangerous.
I shouldn’t be doing anything involving helping Cat take her clothes off. We’re standing right at her doorway, with her unused bed right behind her. It’s all too inviting. The only thing I should be doing right now is walking away.
Ignoring my instincts, I step behind her and sweep her blonde hair over her shoulder. I slowly slide the long zipper down her back, exposing her skin inch by inch. The zipper finally ends just above the lacy top of her underwear.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
I’m done unzipping her, but I don’t take a step back. I hover behind her, a scant few inches between us.
Fuck, this is so wrong. She’s my assistant, and I’m her boss. I ruined the chance of anything happening between us the second I offered her a job.
Then she lets the dress slip off her shoulders. It pools at her feet in a pile of gold fabric, leaving her in nothing but a white lacy bra and a tiny matching thong. My jaw drops. I’ve got an unbelievable view of her small, slender body and sweet curves.
She’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined.
I can see the beauty mark on her shoulder blade.
The almost-faded tan line she must have gotten from wearing a bikini in the summer.
All the little flaws that remind you that the woman in front of you is flesh and blood, and yours, if you’ll just reach out to touch her.
Cat turns around, a sweet smile on her face.
If I were a good man, I wouldn’t look. But all my better angels have sold their fucking souls, because nothing on earth could stop me from taking in this stunning view.
Her pale breasts with the rosy nipples showing through her bra.
The curve of her stomach and hips. The way her thighs press together.
“It’s only fair you see me, too,” she says. “I did get quite the view of you in the kitchen.”
My cock twitches, reminding me of exactly what she saw.
She points to my chest. “You’ve got a little scar there. Where’s it from?”
I got it when I tripped while holding a glass bottle. But I don’t tell her that, because I know she doesn’t really give a fuck where I got it. She just wants a reason to brush her fingertips over it, so she can see how her touch makes me shiver.
She glances up at me, the hunger in her eyes matches the hunger growing in the pit of my stomach. She bites her lush lower lip and I can’t fucking help it.
My lips crash down on hers, and it feels inevitable. We’ve been circling each other for too long. Eventually, something was going to snap.
Cat’s tongue slides against mine as our mouths melt together. She lets me control the kiss, tasting her exactly like I want to.
Better. Reality is better than everything I imagined.
Cat scrapes her fingers down my abs, making every hair on my body stand up. Growling, I take her wrists and pull her hands up my chest before my cock can get any bright ideas about what happens if she keeps moving down.
She hums against my mouth, happily exploring my pecs and biceps instead. She touches me like she wants to memorize me.
Grabbing her ass, I pick her up so I don’t have to lean so far down to kiss her. She wraps her legs around my waist and grabs my shoulders for balance.
My towel falls again, and neither of us cares. The only thing separating my hard cock from her seeping core is her thong. All I’d have to do is slide the fabric aside and I could have her. Right here, right now.
It’s fucking tempting. I know Cat wouldn’t stop me. But if we’re going to do this, I don’t want it fast. I’m taking my goddamn time.
I walk forward so Cat’s body is sandwiched between me and the wall. She arches her back, pressing her breasts against my chest. Her hardened nipples graze against me. I can’t wait to lay her back on my bed and suck on her breasts and tease her while she grinds against my thigh.
Cat’s fingers weave into my hair, tugging slightly as she deepens the kiss. She tastes like cinnamon and honey and—
Whiskey.
Fuck, I was so caught up in finally touching her that I ignored the fact that she’d been drinking. She stumbled into me in the first place because she was drunk. I have to be the one in control of myself here.
I set her down gently, shifting her so she can lean against the wall for balance. Taking a step back, I put my hands up. Her expression shifts from lust to confusion to hurt. I hate that I hurt her. Kissing her was a terrible idea, made worse by the fact that she’s drunk.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m breaking another one of my rules.”
“Don’t they say rules are made to be broken?”
The way she looks up at me with those eyes, filled with desire and…
I shake my head. “Not mine.”
She pouts.
“I’m not exempt from them just because I’m the boss. I’m trying to keep you safe—even from me.”
She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly and steps back from me, nearly stumbling, looking like a fairy in runaway sparkle. “So chivalrous.”
“Trust me, it isn’t easy.” I clench my fists. “I don’t want you doing anything you might regret.”
She snorts. “That’s hilarious. I’m the one who’d regret this.”
I’m not exactly sure what she means by that, but drunk thoughts don’t always make the most sense.
“Get some sleep. Don’t worry about tonight. You didn’t do anything wrong—you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She shakes her head and stumbles over to the bed. I catch her by the arm, helping her climb into it.
“You know what? I’m too tired to be embarrassed about this right now,” she yawns. “I’ll be embarrassed tomorrow. Good night, Prince Frowning.”
I smirk at the nickname—and the way she struggles to pull back the sheets, which are tucked in tight hospital corners. I help her untuck them and she settles her head on the pillow, closing her eyes while I pull the covers over her.
“Night, Kitten,” I whisper.
She doesn’t respond. By her heavy breathing, I’m guessing she’s already asleep.
And I realize tonight’s the last night she’ll sleep in this bed.
If I was smart, I might have drawn out the process of acquiring her building and getting security installed. I don’t like the idea of Cat moving out.
Which means I’m in fucking trouble.