22. Christian #2
Her nose wrinkled when my beard tickled it. “Yeah.” She kissed me. “You made me feel good.”
I carried her into the bathroom and stripped her all the way down before squeezing into the shower with her for a quick rinse. A towel was the extent of what I let her wear when we got out. I heated up leftovers with a towel around my waist while she curled back up on the couch.
We reconvened over yesterday’s baked chicken and vegetables, eating side by side. I listened to her talk about the progress she had made with the surveyors and the groundbreaking celebration plans she had pulled out of her ass.
“Let me get that for you,” I said, getting up to take my dishes to the sink. I piled hers on top.
“I can do that, you know. You didn’t fuck my legs off.”
I chuckled as I walked over and dropped them in the sink. “I didn’t know that was the standard. I’ll try harder next time.”
Cassandra laughed softly. “Thank you, though.”
She was curled up naked, covered by a blanket. I dropped my towel, picked up one end, and eased under the blanket with her.
She tensed when I pulled her into my lap.
“You don’t do well with intimacy, do you?” I mused as I got her situated on top of me. It was like trying to cuddle a two-by-four. She was stiff and unyielding.
Her nose wrinkled. “This is intimacy to you?”
I buried my nose in her hair, searching beneath the blanket for her hand. “Yes.” I laced our fingers together. “You haven’t just laid with someone before?”
“Not naked on a couch.”
“I love lying naked together,” I murmured as my hand left hers and explored her body. “It’s relaxing.” I caressed the soft curve of her breast. “When else do I get to do this? No pretense. No expectations. No endgame.”
Her sharp eyes blurred. Cassandra shifted to her side, lying between my legs. She tucked herself around my belly and rested her head on my chest.
“Cass?” I said softly as I brushed her hair away from her face.
“Hm?”
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Anything. We’ve spent all this time together… We’ve hooked up—twice. You’ve gone to bat for my kid. You’re about to turn my life upside down—” I cupped her cheek “—and I don’t know you.”
She rested her head against my chest and closed her eyes to avoid engaging with me. “You know what you need to know about me.”
“Where are you from?”
“New York.”
“Did you grow up there, or move there?”
She hesitated. “I moved to the city after college.”
“Hmm.” I pressed my lips to her temple. “I didn’t know that about you.”
“Smart ass,” she grumbled, tracing shapes across my chest with her finger.
I waited her out.
After a stretch of silence, she finally piped up again. “I grew up in Vermont.”
And I waited some more, combing my fingers through her hair.
“I went to Syracuse. I liked their communications program.”
Still, I didn’t say anything.
“I did a college internship with the network Becks was with when she went overseas, and then got my job with the Carrington Group. That’s when I met Tripp.”
“What’s your family like?”
“I have an older sister,” she said calmly. “My parents are retired now.”
“Are you all close??”
“No,” she said simply. It was odd, though. There was no animosity. She was simply stating a fact. Still, I held her a little closer.
“Do you talk to them?”
“I usually call my parents every weekend and make sure they’re alright. My sister lives nearby, so she keeps an eye on them.” She huffed. “Are you just going to keep playing twenty questions or are you going to ask what you really want to know?”
I cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “If I asked, I don’t think you’d tell me.”
“Try me.”
I laughed. “I just want to know why you are the way you are.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Not all of us grew up in this idyllic little commune. You basically raised your children on the set of a sitcom.”
“You think me losing my wife, and my daughters losing their mom was idyllic?” The accusation slipped out before I could hold it back. I knew Cassandra didn’t mean it like that.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath before rolling away from me. “I just?—”
“Cass, I know what you meant.” Before she could wiggle out of the blanket, I had her back against my chest.
She felt so fucking good there.
“It wasn’t easy,” I said softly, not wanting to make her feel bad for what she said.
In fact, revealed more about her than she realized.
“It was really fucking hard. I felt like a ghost. But I had the girls to think about. I had to put them first, so that meant dealing with it and going to fucking therapy to make sure my head was right, and taking them too. Do you know how many weird looks I still get? It meant sitting through the ‘mommy and me’ days when they were in elementary school instead of asking my mom to do it. It means keeping pictures of Gretchen around the house even though it still hurts to see them because it means a lot to the girls. ”
“That’s what I meant,” Cassandra said, quiet as a cricket in the winter.
“You don’t just tell them that you love them.
You show them.” She swallowed. “My family isn’t like yours.
There’s no room for that. Everyone’s so …
analytical. There’s no feelings. Growing up always felt like a job interview.
How was I in school? What were my goals?
Did I have a plan to get into college on a scholarship?
What was my plan for after college? We never just spent time together…
” Her hand came to a stop against my skin. “Not like you Griffiths.”
I wasn’t the kind of man who held back. If I had something to say, I’d say it.
But now wasn’t the time.
“There’s room.” I kissed her, drinking her in deep as she melted around me. Cassandra gave as much in that kiss as I did. For once, she wasn’t just using me to take what she needed; though I didn’t mind when she did that.
She was giving.
I pulled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “There’s room, Princess.”