Chapter 13
13
Cate
He pushes his plate away from the edge of the coffee table and falls back on the couch with a groan. “I feel miserable.” Only some sparse rice remains. He can eat, but I’m not surprised, considering the man in front of me seems nearly twice my height.
I’m still surprised he’s here, though. Shane Faris sitting in my living room full of food we ordered together was not something I imagined when I started my day. But here he is, scrunched up on my couch that fits perfectly in this space, yet he’s too tall to be comfortable for long. His presence takes up even more space than his large frame.
Seeing him was exhilarating, and he made the effort to see me after landing. But the bedroom incident . . . Every time I start to give a little, to yield some of the protection of my heart, I see him separate from the image I perceived and the one he gives off. I stumble past attraction into the feelings I’m developing for him. That connection I once felt has reignited, and that scares me. But then that damn phone buzzes again.
Never thinking I was the jealous type, I’m not sure I could handle his infamy with the ladies. The mayhem of his life would crash into this little life I’ve built. And when it’s over, I’d be the one stuck cleaning up the wreckage to my heart while he moves on to someone else.
I touch my lips, still staring at him.
It would have been nice to share one kiss. Just to know what I’m missing.
Too late now.
“Me too. Why’d you let me eat that much?” I join in the misery, rubbing my stomach as if that will ease how stuffed I feel or the regret of what happened in the bedroom. Kicking my legs out, I prop my feet on the table in front of me.
“I wasn’t coming between you and that last eggroll.” Holding his hands up, he chuckles. “I need these babies.”
“Ha.” I try to giggle, but it kind of hurts to mix laughter with that much food in my belly and the remorse weighing me down. “Make it go away.”
“Think about something else. Where do you go for your happy place?”
“Physically? Hawaii. When I’m getting a pap smear? I also take a trip to Hawaii in my thoughts.”
“Hawaii and a pap smear are quite the image.” His eyes are hard to read while staring at me indifferently. “That’s a lot of information.”
“Too much?” I ask, rolling my head to the side, too lazy to turn it. “I forget that other people don’t talk about medical procedures so openly.”
“I can handle you.”
His referring to me over the topic has me reevaluating everything.
Does he want to kiss me? Or was that all me in the bedroom?
Why did he come to see me the same day he returned to LA?
He agreed to come over and let me feed him when he has all those text girls to tend to.
I’m so confused. He makes my heart and head twist the logic to what I want it to be instead of what it is, what we are, and maybe all we should be. Friends.
What if we were more?
What if we could make it work?
Is it right to play with my heart that way, to talk myself into what I know will be a disaster? Predictable and orderly are the furthest from what his life offers. It will only be a lose-lose for me once it’s done.
I drag myself back to sitting in the chair like a proper human and then tuck my legs under me, needing to get to the business at hand instead of the ridiculous notion of me, Cate Farin, dating a rock star. “Want to talk about what I discovered in my research?”
“Do we have to?” His eyes don’t even bother coming my way. His socked feet are suddenly way more interesting to him.
I laugh, but he doesn’t. “Oh, you’re being serious?” I’m now left guessing how to broach the topic. “We don’t have to if you’re too tired to talk tonight.”
He sits up, looking at me like I’m dragging him to the dentist for a root canal. “It’s fine,” he says, releasing a long sigh. “We have to deal with it eventually, so we might as well get the options on the table.”
I’m not exactly feeling the love, but I hope to turn it around. Or at least share a good laugh with him. “We have two,” I say. When he just stares at me unamused, I continue, “We can get an annulment, which would help us avoid a lot of other issues, like the press finding out and exposing you?—”
“And you.”
My throat thickens from the thought of having my life invaded. “Right. Another thing an annulment would do is erase the marriage from record like it never happened.” Sitting forward, he rests his arms on his legs, life returning to his eyes. “And we won’t need to involve attorneys.”
“This sounds like the best option. How do we make it happen?”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I readjust in the chair, biting my lip. I already know how he’s going to react, so I say it and hope for the best. “We’d have to appear in front of a judge together and make our appeal. Two options might apply to us in order to get the annulment granted. We need to figure out which one we’re going with and be on the same page.”
His brows pull together as he sits back again, looking so comfortable on my couch that I admire the trust in his eyes before I reveal the kicker. “You’re really building the suspense. What are they?”
“Fraud, which sounds tricky. It’s basically saying one of us defrauded the other into marriage.”
“No.” He glances away as the idea rolls around his expression. “That comes with legal issues tied to it, and if anyone ever got wind of it, it would ruin my career. What’s the other?”
I take a deep breath and rush the words out. “We never consummated the marriage.”
“Not a lie. This is our out.” Still staring at me, hope comes in the widening of his eyes. “We don’t have to prove it, do we?”
“No,” I reply with that image now mortifying me. “We just have to agree it never happened.”
“Easy,” he says, brushing his hands together like this issue is done and dusted. “We can’t have sex before we end the marriage, and we’re golden.”
Not a question, but a statement that leaves me narrowing my eyes to riddle through. Maybe it’s not a riddle at all. “You make it sound like we will right after.”
A shrug and a cocky smirk make themselves at home on his handsome face.
I’m not sure what to make of this, mainly because I’m not opposed to the idea. Sex is different from dating. Reason always sneaks in, though. “We didn’t have sex when we were married, so why would we do it when we’re not?” And why am I pondering this as if it’s a real possibility? An opportunity even?
“Never say never.”
Straightening my face, I lean in closer, and whisper, “Never, but I’ve always been ambitious.”
I swear a growl rumbles around his chest before he takes a deep breath. “So the no sex thing seems to be our only option. For now.”
“Forever. And yes, it’s the best option we have.” I weave my fingers together and hold my hands over my still full belly. “So when the judge asks us for the reason, we’ll agree you couldn’t perform your husbandly duties, and he’ll grant the annulment.”
Sitting forward again, he stares at me like I’m speaking another language. “What do you mean I couldn’t perform?”
“Yeah,” I say, hesitating. “That’s part of the appeal.”
“Doesn’t sound appealing to me at all.”
“No, but we must have a reason to annul, and for that specific option . . .” I use my hands to explain, but it’s my nerves, knowing I have to go into detail. “To use the not consummating the marriage excuse, we’ll need to go into why you haven’t made love to me. Why you can’t make love to me. It’s strictly performance-based, so you’ll swear that you have an incurable case of?—”
“No fucking way.” The horror on his face speaks volumes over his actual words. He’s up and storming toward the kitchen. Turning, he paces to the sliding glass door, but the seven steps he takes to cover my apartment don’t appear to satisfy the turmoil. Stopping on the other side of the coffee table, he clenches his jaw. “There’s no fucking way I’m claiming I can’t perform my duties. I can perform on stage and in the bedroom just fine, sweetheart.”
“Prove it.”
What the— I can’t breathe until I realize I said that in my head. Oh my God. Thank goodness. I drop my head into my hands, needing a reprieve from the pressure cooker where we’re trapped. “There are no other solutions.”
“Except divorce,” he replies, defeat tainting his tone.
We’re here but apart. I hate feeling like this fight is between us instead of the situation we’re in. He’s been quiet for so long that I’m afraid to break the peace. I watch as he returns to the patio door to stare out like there’s more than cars to look at. He crosses his arms over his chest in quiet contemplation, his breathing finally evening out again.
What can I say that won’t upset him even more? But the silence is killing me. What is he thinking? I angle my body in his direction, and say, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not you, Cat.” When he glances back at me, I don’t see the assurance I once did. No humor dances in his eyes. No flirty intentions in a smirk. All I see is the guy who said he’s exhausted from his own life.
Lowering my feet, I pad across the short span of hardwood floors and stand next to him, staring ahead. Bold for me with him, but he’s so different than I imagined. There’s no chip on his shoulder when he’s with me.
Friends can comfort each other, but I wonder why I keep justifying what feels right instead of leading with my heart when it comes to Shane. His status, his fame, his wealth has never been weaponized against me. I need to put down my own defenses and see him for who he really is.
I rest my cheek on his arm. “We don’t have to decide tonight. We don’t have to rush into anything either.”
His arm comes around my waist, holding me in the nook of his body like I belong there. It feels so natural that I peek up at him in awe.
We stand together now, somehow an unlikely pair against the world that tricked us into a relationship, which is beginning to feel more like a match made in heaven with every day that passes.
The sun’s almost down for the night. Since the other buildings are blocking the sunset, we catch the rays of light reflecting off the cars. It’s magical in its own right . . . not a view of all of Los Angeles magical but quaint in its own way.
I’m finally willing to admit that this feels better than expected, making me glad to give whatever it is between us a chance to grow in its own direction. I wrap my arms around his middle, leaning against him, and whisper, “You can stay?”
I could have told him what I wanted a million other ways, but instead, I torture myself by tossing it out as a question. I close my eyes, hold my breath, and wait.
The tips of his fingers pull my chin up, and when I open my eyes, I’m staring into Shane’s adoring gaze. “I’d like that.”
“I didn’t buy it for having company over,” I explain, wriggling for more covers. “I bought the bed for me. A queen-sized bed for the queen of her own domain.” I fall back on my fluffed pillow and turn to look at him.
Seeing him next to me in bed is a thrill I never thought I’d experience. I’ll carry this to my deathbed, then spill the family secret that Grandma once shared a bed with Shane Faris.
He says, “It’s just kind of . . . small.”
Here I am, developing lifelong fantasies of this man, and he’s still stuck on the size of the mattress. “I hear what you’re saying, and I agree that it might be a bit small for a giant, but that’s not what I’m working with over here. I’m five-five on a good posture day.”
“A good posture day?” He chuckles, then gives me a wink. “Five-five is a stretch, don’t you think?”
“Wow, thanks.” I sit up, poking him in the bare chest that I can’t get over. So tempting to rub all over his carved muscle and those abs. Hands or my tongue will do. I’m not picky when it comes to him, but I am turned on. “Fine. I’m five-four, the average height of an American woman. So tease me all you want, but this is all sixty-four inches of me.”
I’m pulled into his arms; my body pressed to his athletic physique—hard in all the right places and growing against my leg. “I like every inch of you, Cat.”
My heart races from the position, but his words have me swooning in his arms. He makes me feel so much and more than ready to cross lines we probably shouldn’t. My nipples press against the thin cotton T-shirt I thought was a good choice when I put it on, but it practically puts my boobs on display, spotlights that draw his attention away from my face.
A large hand covers my ribs and moves higher until he’s cupping under my breast. With a stroke of his thumb, the pad brushes across my nipple, perking it even more. He tips his head and breathes across my neck, “Every inch.”
The air is sucked from the room, leaving us to be consumed by sexual tension.
Did I expect a different outcome when I invited Shane into my bed?
I’m not innocent.
I knew what I was doing, and now I’ll reap the benefits— rewards ?
“I’m awful.”
Tilting his head back, he finds my eyes again. “Why is that?” he asks, struggling to make the leap to where I’ve landed in my mindset.
I’m just as confused.
My body and deep desires I try to bury want a night of reckless abandon with him. My head, good old responsible Cate, wants me to deny myself. Why?
“I shouldn’t take advantage of the situation with you.”
His head falls back on the pillow, rubbing his eyes while a smile still sits prominently on his face. “ You taking advantage of me ?” He laughs, but when he turns back, the amusement is wiped clean from his face. “You’re not kidding?” Quick to lean in again, he cups my face. “Listen to me. You’re not taking advantage of me, Cat.”
Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I hold on tight—to keep him there so I don’t run away before telling him what’s on my heart. “There are several reasons I asked you to stay. One was that I don’t think you should be driving back to your house in the dark with a concussion.”
He leans and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering against my skin before he whispers, “Because you’re an amazing person.”
“I wouldn’t speak too soon. The second . . .” I scrunch my face, hoping I don’t freak him out. “I also wanted you to stay. I know, it’s selfish. I’m terrible?—”
“You’re not terrible. You knew what you wanted. Do you know what a fucking turn-on that is?” Lowering to look me in the eyes without distraction, he adds, “I stayed because I wanted to. Because I know what I want, too.”
“What’s that?” I’m breathy and desperate, but I don’t care as I slip my leg between his, needing the pressure there as well.
His eyes track down, then he presses his mouth to mine, slow at first, gentle, but then our lips part as if a checkered flag has been waved. My breath is stolen, and my needs lit like dynamite. I rub my body against his, already on the edge of losing myself.
Grappling for purchase, I run my hands over the scruff of his jaw and upward over his temples, driving my fingers into his hair. But he flinches, causing me to stop and rip myself away from him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The knot is found easily, even in low light. “I got carried away.”
“Carried away is a good thing.” When he leans down to kiss me again, I push my hands to his chest, knowing I can’t take advantage of this man when he’s injured.
“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t.” I pull back to catch his gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you. You need to be calm and rest to heal.”
His hand drags up my bare leg, sliding under the hem of my pajama shorts. “It’s so fucking sexy when you take care of me, Nurse Cate.”
I laugh, but I shouldn’t. “You’re such a bad patient.”
“Yes, babe. So bad .”
“No,” I say, playfully pushing his shoulder. “I’m not role-playing, Shane. This is me saying this for real. We can’t do this. You’ll get worked up, and blood starts rushing to other places instead of where it needs to send the white blood cells so you can heal.”
“I love listening to you talk about my dick.”
“Well, it wasn’t specifically about your?—”
“ Shh . Just keep going on about blood rushing to other parts, Nurse.”
“And here I thought I was the terrible one.” I laugh, but as soon as he starts kissing along my jaw, I go quiet. When he tugs the lobe of my ear into his mouth, the scrape of his teeth has my body squirming and reconsidering my stance altogether.
“We can’t.” I close my eyes, relishing his mouth on me.
I’m licked along my jawline, causing me to forget myself.
“Hear me out. What if we,” he whispers in my ear, “take care of you instead?”
When he slips his hand over my shoulder, I know where he’s headed. I could stop him, but I don’t want to. I want this. I want this man and his big hands all over and inside me. I want him so badly that I can’t think straight. “Okay.” I’m not even sure what I’m agreeing to, but I’m more than happy to find out.
He kisses my mouth once more. I stop him before he goes lower and kiss him with as much passion right back. Our mouths take ownership of each other’s, and our tongues embrace into a slow dance to match the pace of our bodies. A grind here and rubbing there.
I lean back, grasping for air and needing to see him. Look at the way his eyes drink me in so deeply that there’s nothing left of me but desire. Breaking all my rules never felt so good.
Shane starts down my body, kissing over my shirt and my peaking nipples, over my ribs and swirls his tongue in my belly button. But when he shifts his entire body under the covers, and his hands are on either side of my hips, tugging my shorts down, I lie there staring up at the ceiling, ready to beg for mercy and fist pump in celebration equally.
Before my shorts reach my ankles, he’s kissing and then licking the bend of my leg and going south from there. Pushing my legs farther apart, he shoulders his way to where he wants to be. Without warning, his nose dips, then his tongue licks through my lips. My mind goes blank when he stops, the bridge of his nose pressing against me. I close my eyes and enjoy the sweet torture of him inhaling me into his lungs.
Seconds. Minutes. Hours. I lose track of time when he begins ravaging with his tongue. It’s been too long and feels too good. I buck my hips, taking on his chaos as he consumes me whole.
Fingers replace his tongue, and he fucks me with little foreplay. Other than a few kisses, he left me wanton for more. I push against his hand, getting closer to the edge with every thrust. But it’s when his tongue flattens against my clit, claiming me as his through whispers and licks, that I fall so fast I fumble into ecstasy.
The stars shine before I land and bounce back to reality. I should be embarrassed for how little that took—a look, a kiss, so much connecting us that I lost myself in him.
He flips the covers up, and our eyes find each other in the dark. I find myself, the girl who used to dream, is now the woman who went after what she wanted.
I feel too good to worry about how this looks to the outside world. Instead, in this bed, what Shane thinks is all that matters to me.
Looking at me as he climbs up my body, his blue eyes shine like the devil escaped Alcatraz. He holds himself above me, his penis hard and prominent against my leg, then dips down to kiss me again. “You taste fucking amazing, babe.”
My soul was pilfered for safekeeping with his, and a bag of bones is all that’s left of me. Sliding my hands on either side of his head, I encourage him to let me bear the weight and to kiss him of my own accord as if we have all the time in the world.
Left breathless once more, I fall back, my head hitting the soft pillow and my body feeling like it’s returning to life.
I reach down, wanting him to feel as good as I do, but my hand is caught and brought to his mouth. He kisses my fingers and my palm. “When I come, it will be inside you.” The words are firm, but his tone dances between a command and the deep tone that makes me weak in the knees.
He kisses me once more and then turns us, me spinning around with swiftness. He curls me in his arms from behind, my back to the strong beat of his heart pumping in his chest. Every breath of his brushes across my skin, leaving goose bumps in the wake.
I want to talk to him and ask a million questions about what happens next, but I listen to his breathing even as sleep sets in. There’s no rush for tomorrow when there’s so much to enjoy about the here and now. We have time for the heavier conversations in daylight.
I almost fall asleep as well, but I force myself to stay awake a little longer—not only to check on him to make sure he’s safe with the concussion but because I want to savor everything about this night with him.
While he’s still my husband.