Chapter 22
22
Theo
“ P ick one.”
Cat stares me down. “No.”
“Catherine,” I say with admirable patience. “Pick one, or I will pick one for you. It will be bright yellow and guaranteed to turn heads.”
“This doesn’t seem safe.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. I can’t stop noticing her fucking mouth. It’s going to be the death of me.
I growl under my breath. “You are learning to drive today.” I need to teach her. I still haven’t forgiven myself for that night last week, and I want to bridge this gap between us. She’s been avoiding me for days, taking her meals at odd times and locking herself in her room to study.
“In one of your fancy cars? I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if I crash it?” She sets her mouth mulishly. Her fierce expression makes me want to laugh, like it always does. I want to tweak her nose.
“Then you’d have to stay married to me and do all manner of depraved things with me as recompense. For years. At least ten,” I say .
Her lips curve up, then she shakes her head. “You’re horrible.”
“You like it.”
She sighs, like she does, and she’s annoyed by it, but she surveys the garage with more interest now.
“Which is the safest?” she asks.
“None of them.”
Her gaze slices to mine.
“Relax, princess. I’m kidding. They’re all safe. Besides, I’ll drive us out of the city. You’ll take over once we’re in an abandoned parking lot somewhere.”
“Your confidence in me is inspiring,” she says dryly, but I can see she’s relieved. “How many do you have?”
“Enough.” I give her a sharp smile. “I’m frivolous, baby.” I leave out the truth, which is that I spent so long with nothing that now I buy whatever I want and I don’t look back.
“Which one is your favorite?”
That’s an easy one. I point at the low-slung black Maserati in the corner. “My first new car.” Cat wanders over, trailing her fingers over the hood.
“When did you buy it?” she asks, not looking at me, eyes only for the vehicle.
I’ve never been jealous of a car before.
“When I made my first million. I actually bought it for my mom. She refused it.” I grin sheepishly at Cat.
“Of course she did. Your mom would never drive a car like this. It’s all black, and it screams expensive. She’d pick a plain SUV.”
I nod. “She would and she did. I bought her at least three cars before she relented and told me what she wanted.”
My smile fades as I remember that Cat knows my mom almost as well as I do. An unwelcome memory comes unbidden—Cat, her hands dusted in flour, standing on a stool in the main house, helping my mom bake cookies. I was thirteen, and Cat was eleven. Cole had been home that night, rare for him at fifteen, and I kept asking my mom to come home for family dinner. She kept saying, “Catherine needs us, sweetheart. Just help us finish these cookies.” I slammed out of the kitchen and ignored Cat for a week. I swallow down the tightness in my throat. I resented Cat so much back then for taking time with my mom, but I see her now, so wary, so guarded, and I can’t help but wonder if I was in the wrong.
Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair. It doesn’t matter. I’m here to help her with the list, sell this marriage, and divorce her.
The thought settles uncomfortably, cutting at my insides.
“That one,” Cat says, interrupting my thoughts. She’s pointing at the plainest SUV I own.
“Too boring,” I say.
“I’m boring,” she shoots back.
“No you’re not.” I shake my head and move to the rack of keys on the wall. “You’ve never been boring. You’re secretive.” Damn secretive, if the little piece of her list that tore off in my hand is any indication. All I saw were the words lingerie I like. There’s another side to that list. One she’s been hiding from me, and now my brain and my body can’t stop wondering what’s on it.
“What does that mean?” She gives me a puzzled look.
“You know.” I shouldn’t have gone down this road. I flip the keys and avoid looking at her.
“I really don’t,” she says as she follows me to the baby blue Bugatti behind the SUV.
“Fishing for compliments?” I tease.
“Not on your life,” she mutters as we slide into the car’s leather-scented interior. She holds herself carefully in the seat as I start the car, and something about her wariness makes me want to tell her anyway.
I sigh. “You’re mysterious.” I put the car in drive. The engine hums happily under me. I fucking love this car. “It’s sexy.”
She makes a choked sound. “No, I’m not.”
I glance at her before I pull out of the spot and onto the ramp that will lead out of the garage. She’s wearing another one of those lace-edged tops she likes to sleep in, and the delicate lace against her skin keeps catching my eye .
“Don’t believe me?” I ask.
Her cheeks are pink. “I’m not mysterious. I’m sheltered. There’s a difference. Besides, I’m not nice enough to be sexy.”
I snort. “Sexy doesn’t mean nice. You’re sharp and guarded, and you have secrets. Men like that. There’s something to discover.”
“Huh.” A smile pulls at her mouth. “I never thought of it like that.”
I don’t respond. I’ve thought about it way too many times. And now I’m thinking about Cat moving through the world with newfound confidence. I want to stomp on the gas, but I guide us carefully onto the ramp that will shoot us out onto Madison Avenue five blocks north. I can floor it in the tunnel. It’s three cars wide, and I’m the only person with access.
“You have a tunnel? What is this, Batman?”
“Stick with me, baby.” I wink and push the pedal to the floor.
Cat whoops. As we race down the tunnel, my hands are tight on the wheel. To keep the car steady. Certainly not because I’m picturing some other guy with his hands on Cat and his voice in her ear, telling her all the things I just did but actually being able to follow through with them.
Not me.
Never me.
Fuck.
My bad mood eases slightly as we leave the city and head into New Jersey. Traffic isn’t terrible for a Saturday afternoon, and the car glides fast and smooth down the roads. Highways soon give way to neat subdivisions and small towns.
“Where are we going?” Cat asks. She’s been looking out the window the entire time.
“Somewhere far enough away that you can drive with no cars on the road. A rural area.”
“An abandoned field, maybe? ”
I snort. “You’re not taking this car in an abandoned field. I love this car.”
She smiles. “I can tell. You’ve always loved cars.”
“Don’t say it,” I warn, but I’m fighting a grin.
“Say what?” she asks innocently.
“Cat.”
“Make me stop, then.”
“I will pull this car over right now,” I growl.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she says.
Fuck. My body goes taut. Is that what she likes?
Luckily, Cat doesn’t seem to realize what she’s doing to me. “Theo Archer,” she starts in a high-pitched voice. “You irresponsible scoundrel. You wastrel.” She starts to laugh between words, so I finish, “You mewling, fly-bitten miscreant.”
She tips her head back and laughs, her shoulders shaking.
“You liked that, did you?” I ask.
“I loved it.” She sighs happily. “I still can’t believe you stole that car.”
She’s talking about the 1975 Mustang I hot-wired when I was seventeen.
“I can’t believe you made me give it back,” I say.
“It belonged to my English teacher,” she protests. “She was going to fail me.”
“Associating with me was your first mistake.”
She smiles. “Nah. Learning all those Shakespearean insults was worth it.”
“You called me a wastrel for weeks after that.” The thought warms my chest. After her English teacher gave me an earful, Cat and I made up increasingly complicated insults that we would lob at the most inappropriate times.
“Do you ever miss it?” she asks after our laughter has died down.
“Miss what?” I think I know what she’s talking about, but I don’t want to go down this road.
“Rockwood,” she says quietly. “Not the place, but those summers we spent. ”
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “I have a lot of bad memories there.”
“Me too,” she says. I think she’s going to give me more, but she doesn’t, and I don’t really want to pry. Cat and her parents might be on the outs now, but she had the childhood that dreams are made of. What could her bad memories possibly consist of? She went to parties, had the best education money could buy and endless luxuries. Servants.
I turn the car with a little more force than necessary, and Cat gives me a sharp look.
“What’s with you?”
“Nothing,” I say, jaw grinding. “Let’s do the questionnaire I prepared. We’re supposed to get to know each other today.”
“Are you going to be a dick about it?” Cat asks.
I bark a surprised laugh, my anger at Cat of the past fading in the face of her honesty. “Probably not,” I say.
“How reassuring,” she says. “I’ll try not to be a dick either. Pass me the questionnaire.”
I dig in my pocket for the paper, and she smooths it over her lap.
“My shoe size? Really? My college major? My favorite food? My favorite sex position?” She chokes a breath. “If you had to read one book for the rest of your life, which would you pick?” She looks at me. “Honestly, Theo. It’s like you’re trying to torment me.”
“George added that one. I can’t be blamed. Besides, favorite food isn’t going to get us very far in conversation, princess. Pick a book.”
She’s silent for a moment, deep in thought. “ Sabriel . By Garth Nix. I read it the first summer I got a library card. It’s my most read book. Blair and I bonded over it in college. She loves it too.”
I make a humming sound. “How do you know Blair?”
“That’s not on the questionnaire.”
“Humor me,” I say. “The questionnaire is a jumping-off point.”
Cat sighs like I’m asking a lot. “After I switched to community college, Blair was the first person to befriend me. She’s a Broadway performer.” Cat smiles. “She’s great. She lives on the edge, but in a fun way. She helped me a lot when I left Rockwood. Anyway, you next.” She picks up the paper.
“Why did you switch to community college?” I glance at her. We’re on a side street now, driving deeper into farmland. Cat won’t look at me, which means she’s hiding again.
“For my parents. I was an English major. In case you want to check off the first item.”
I don’t. I want to know what Cat is hiding. “What do you mean you switched for your parents?”
She’s silent for a second, fiddling with the paper. “They wanted to manage my life. And having me closer to home was one way to do that. After my dad realized I was inheriting the shares, a lot changed.” She sighs. “I didn’t want to switch to community college. So I picked English, just to piss them off. My dad always said it was the most useless major.”
I swallow my surprised sound. Cat rebelled. I want to smile. In her own way, Cat is more similar to me than I thought. “He’s a prick.” I’m letting the other line of questioning go. For now.
“Well, English hasn’t helped much with my MBA, I have to say. I wish every day I knew more about standard deviations and less about Chaucer.” She wrinkles her nose, and I grin. “What about you? Wait, no, let me guess.”
She taps her finger against her full bottom lip, and I wait for her to say something dismissive like “partying” or “beer bongs.” I know she’s going to, but something inside me crumples at the idea that, even after all this time, she will inevitably think so poorly of me. Instead, she says, “Economics.”
I barely control my sound of surprise. “How did you know? Wait, did you google me?”
“No. Lucky guess.” She bites her lip.
“Sure about that?” I pull into a parking lot for an abandoned super store.
“I googled you just once, but that wasn’t on there,” she says, but she squeezes her eyes shut. I’m silent. She squirms. “Fine, a bunch. I wanted to know what you were doing. It’s like knowing a celebrity. Don’t read into it.” She levels me a look.
I grin at her. “I’ll let that go. But yes, economics.”
She nods. “Because you’re ambitious.”
“Not many people would say that,” I say lightly.
“Oh, come off it, Theo. You traded stocks in college. You’re not going to convince me you’re some sort of dissolute partier all the time. Honestly. I don’t know why you persist with that.” She snorts and picks the paper back up.
I stare mutely at her, my throat working. Because it’s easier this way. And how the hell does Cat see me clearly when no one else does?
“Favorite movie,” she continues. “Oh, this is easy. Ever After . I must have watched it a hundred times as a teenager. It’s so romantic. You?”
“ Mad Max ,” I say gruffly. “All the cars. And the explosions. And Furiosa is a badass.”
“Favorite food? Mine is good tomatoes. They taste like summer. And yours is chocolate.”
“Guilty,” I say.
“Favorite sex position?” She looks up. “Is this going to come up in polite conversation?”
“Polite? No, probably not. But I’m covering my bases.” Her unwillingness makes me smile. “So what is it?”
Suddenly I’m desperate to know. How does she like it? Rough, like I do? Or sweet and slow? Sweet and slow might not be so bad, especially if she’s sighing and clutching at me like she did when we kissed. Fuck, I’m getting turned on, and that was not the point of this—
“I’m not sure, actually. Gosh, that’s embarrassing.”
My runaway thoughts come to a halt with her words.
“You’re not sure of what? Your favorite position?” Careful, Theo.
She’s fiddling with the paper, but her gaze is daring me to challenge her.
“I’m not a virgin. Stop looking at me like that.” She huffs, an annoyed puff of breath. It’s quickly becoming one of my favorite sounds. “I have had sex. ”
“With whom?” The question comes out before I can stop it.
She squints at me. “I’m not telling you that.”
“He must not have been very good at it, if you don’t know what you like.” The thought makes me swallow down anger. Cat deserves more.
“We were young,” she protests.
And now I’m picturing some pimple-faced prick fondling her in his car and not knowing what to do. It should have been me. I stop the thought before it can go anywhere. It could never have been me. Cat never wanted me. Not like I wanted her. A walk on the wild side, a good lay, a pretty face. That’s me.
Her cheeks are getting pink. “I’ll figure it out.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “How?”
“You know.” She gestures vaguely. “One day.”
“With whom?” Something ugly claws at me. I have no claim on Cat, but that imaginary man whispering in her ear suddenly seems all too fucking real.
“I don’t know. A stranger I meet in a bar?” She shrugs. “Not a boyfriend, that’s for sure.”
“Not one for commitment?” I cock my head. That’s not what I would have expected for Cat. She’s an inveterate good girl. “I would have assumed you wanted a neat house and a nice husband. Missionary sex and maybe a blindfold if you wanted to spice it up.”
“An easy life, you mean.” She cuts me a glance that tells me what she thinks about that. “I told you. I don’t want to be married. I meant it. I want to live. I want to travel. I want to do all the things I didn’t do for years. So yes, maybe I will fuck a stranger I meet in a bar.”
“Works for me,” I say darkly.
“What’s good for the goose, they say.” She narrows her eyes.
I smile blandly back.
“What’s your favorite position?” she asks.
“It’s so hard to choose,” I say, pretending to think. “I like when a woman rides my face.”
Cat bites her lip, like she’s picturing riding my face.
Blood is rushing south. This was a mistake .
“I like it from behind, where I can control the depth, the angle, the force, more easily.”
Cat’s eyes widen, and her gaze flicks down to where I’m already half-hard under my pants.
“You like it rough,” she says. Her voice sounds strangled.
“Yeah, I do.” I sit back and let her picture it. I can tell she is, from the expression on her face and her pink cheeks. “I like when she’s restrained. Not with ropes or something. With my hands. I like when she’s pinned and all she can do is take it. ”
Cat’s breath stutters. I’m getting to her.
“Why?” she asks. Her voice sounds strangled.
“Why? What do you mean why ? Because it’s hot. Because it might look like taking, but instead, I’m giving.”
“Giving?” She frowns.
“Yes,” I bite out. “Giving. Orgasms. As many as I can get from you. Hands, teeth, tongue. The harder, the better. Until I’m so deep inside you that you can’t think. Until you’re begging me because you want to come. I can edge you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
You. Why the hell am I saying you ?
She frowns.
“What?” My voice comes out rough and wanting, because I’m an idiot.
“So you don’t ever make love ?” she asks. “Wow, I sound stupid.” She gives a mocking laugh.
“I’ve never been in love,” I say calmly. Liar.
“Oh,” Cat says. “Oh, right. Of course.” She smooths a hand down her pants.
“Have you?” Suddenly, I want to know. I want to find whichever man she’s loved and take his measure. What did he do for her to find him worthy?
Her mouth twists unhappily. “Yes,” she says quietly. “He didn’t love me back.”