Chapter 28
VALENTINA
I admit, my logic was flawed. It didn’t make all that much sense: sleeping with him to distract me from the fact that I’d slept with him—and Alfie had found out.
But you try to resist Caden Callahan, sex God and only-guy-who’d-ever-managed-to-make-me-come-through-penetrative-sex, and then we’d talk.
Apparently, not even another person there had been able to make me not want him. Even if that person had been my best friend, who could never ever find out about us. Even if that person had been talking to me through the door while he’d been balls-deep inside of me.
It had been a little thrilling, doing something I wasn’t supposed to. Exciting and new, taking initiative. Thinking about myself. Saying yes to Caden—and everything that came with him.
The thoughts—and images and sounds—still fluttered through my mind six hours later. Of the surprise on his face when I’d continued moving despite our interruption, and of the surprise on mine. Of those deep, guttural sounds in the back of his throat, edging me close when he seemed nowhere near it.
I’d never be able to shower again without thinking about him. How good he was—and how much better we’d been together.
But I wasn’t in the shower, and this was hardly an appropriate situation to replay our sexcapades. In the kitchen, with all our friends around us, trying to cook a simple pasta dish, and failing miserably.
Then again, his hand on my ass wasn’t appropriate either, and here we were—on the other side of the kitchen island, leaving the rest of them to ruin the food.
I think Valentina should help. At least she can cook. Iris scowled at Alfie, currently dumping a bunch of spices into what was supposed to turn into Alfredo sauce. That’s too much pepper! she cried, then snatched it out of his hand.
Now Alfie was scowling, too. Synchronized, their eyes found mine, as if somehow I was responsible for settling their argument. My hands shot up, palms toward them. Nope. I’m not getting involved.
Too many cooks spoil the broth, Anni, on pasta duty, commented. Next to her, Mike was cutting up the cooked chicken. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet today.
What she said, I agreed.
Okay, then I think Valentina should be the one person that doesn’t spoil the broth.
She can cook. So why should we have to eat the mess he’s spicing, when—ouch!
Iris rubbed the spot Alfie had hit. Even if he was facing the pan again, continuing to throw salt and parsley into the sauce, I knew he was smiling.
Probably keeping from outright laughing.
I leaned onto the island separating me from my friends, and Caden’s hand unsuspectingly slipped below the hem of my dress.
Beside me, he was casually leaning against the same counter; if it hadn’t been my skin he was grazing, I’d never guess what he was up to.
The bored expression on his face was almost believable, if it weren’t for the tent in his shorts.
Exactly, I snickered. Why should I rob you guys of a learning experience? This will be good for you. Now help Alfie, instead of complaining, I laughed.
Yes, chef. Iris turned back around, purposefully hitting Alfie’s shoulder with her own. He nudged her back—and turned their cooking into bickering within five seconds.
Who knew you could be so bossy, Caden muttered under his breath, head tilting when he finally looked at me.
I’d been waiting all evening for our gazes to accidentally cross, but he’d been more careful since the Alfie incident, followed by the shower incident.
I was glad for it, because I’d thrown caution out the window.
If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t be touching me the way he was now.
His fingers wouldn’t dance across my bare ass, and I wouldn’t be playing with the thought of palming him through his shorts.
Clearing my throat, I stirred away from those images as best as I could. I have my moments, I agreed, and tried not to look suspicious. All their backs were turned toward us, chatter and the bubbling of water and the sound of the fan were filling the air, but we still didn’t have to risk it.
He hummed in agreement, hands crossing on the island and leaving my skin cold and empty. His lips were by my ear, breath tickling my neck when he whispered, You sure do before rounding the counter and helping Mike.
Or trying to. Nah, man. I’m good, he said, voice so gruff even Anni beside him was taken aback. By the look on her face—brows furrowed, lips parted—she had no idea what was going on with her boyfriend, either. He hadn’t said a word, and I hadn’t seen him and Caden together in… a few days, at least.
You can’t let me at least pretend to be helpful? Caden tried to joke.
Mike snickered, but there was no humor in the sound at all.
Anni’s eyes narrowed even before he spoke.
You’re good at that, aren’t you? He wasn’t even looking at the guy, just continued cutting up the chicken, more aggressively than he needed to.
I was afraid what he might do with that knife once he was done with the meat.
What he wanted to do, clearly, was use it on Caden.
Excuse me?
At pretending you’re helpful, he unnecessarily explained. The same way you pretend to be all in for the team. Or that you want to be captain in the fall. Right?
Babe! Anni finally intervened, but I wasn’t looking at her.
Caden tensed, his fingers flexed, and his head tilted in confusion—or anger?
I couldn’t tell from here, all I could see was his profile.
Which didn’t look happy regardless. There was a tense silence in the kitchen, Alfie and Iris had stopped bickering, and the only sounds were the fan and the boiling water.
But they didn’t do much to fill the awkward silence, either.
For a second, I thought I was about to see two grown men brawl. Although his back was still turned toward me, by his tone, I figured Mike was ready to punch his friend square in the jaw.
But Caden’s hands shot up in surrender, eyes flicking across the rest of us before he said, with a fake lightness in his voice, If you wanted all the chicken-glory, you could’ve just said that.
Then, he kept himself busy by starting to lay the table, and completely ignored the way Anni dragged her boyfriend past him into the backyard, then slid the door shut.
I grabbed the forks and knives and helped Caden with the table. Pretending to be helpful. What crawled up his ass?
Caden startled, and his eyes flew in my direction, like he’d been deep in thoughts before I rudely dragged him out of them.
I was about to apologize when the scowl on his lips turned into a genuine smile, and he placed the next plate.
Fuck knows, he muttered. Maybe he thinks I’m not training enough.
Maybe he thinks I’m not good enough. Maybe— He shook his head. Maybe he’s just in a bad mood.
Right. I shrugged, came up beside him, a little too close. I placed the cutlery next to the plate he’d just put down. So you’re okay?
Caden gave me a bright smile, perfect teeth and all. ’Course. Then, quieter, closer, he whispered, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could ruin today for me. You were so fucking spectacular, Val. I’m still thinking about it.
And I knew exactly what he was referring to.
Heat rushed into my cheeks, and I hurried with the cutlery, if only to get some space between us that would keep me from jumping him, right here, right now.
From a safer distance, our eyes locked again, and by the smirk on his lips, he’d interpreted my reaction just right.
I’m still thinking about it, too.
Just ten minutes ago, I’d been replaying the way he’d taken me in that shower. I’d been playing with the possibility of dragging him back up there to take another one.
Still thinking about what? Iris’ cheery voice snapped me out of fantasy land, and made me remember where we were: the very public, very open living room of Alfie’s house, with all my friends gathered around.
Iris placed the pan of chicken Alfredo—enough fettuccine inside it to feed an entire village—on the trivet in the center of the table. Alfie was carrying two bottles of white wine and dumped them into the ice bucket we’d prepared beforehand.
Oh, I quipped, trying to find an answer that wasn’t, thinking about the way he’d fucked me. Our run. We went running the other day.
You run? Iris’ brows furrowed, her voice carried a note of disbelief as we sat down. Then, instead of a note, it turned into a truckload when she added, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run. Her eyes flicked to Alfie, whose gaze had been jumping back and forth between Caden and me. Have you?
He shook his head too quickly. Never, he said, and I gave him a warning look.
Don’t fuck this up, it said. You promised.
I mean, sometimes, Alfie corrected, fiddling with his fork until it clinked loudly against his plate.
He was a mess. I’d never known him to be this bad of a liar.
Actually, yes. Now that you mention it. I’ve seen them run together a few times. At least once.
Now replace run with cuddle, and it wouldn’t even be a lie anymore.
Iris was about to ask another follow-up question, but the door slid open, and Anni and Mike were back. Sitting opposite me, Caden tensed, gaze trained on his friend. Or captain? I could never quite figure out their dynamic, to be honest.
Without a word, Mike sat at the other end of the table, trying his best not to scowl—and failing, obviously. Anni, an apologetic smile on her lips, sat across from him. Sorry for the wait. Shall we?
And so we did.