Chapter 27
27
Shane
“Where will you sleep tonight?” Cat asks, appearing from the hallway dressed in tight black shorts that show off her tan legs and a Faris Wheel T-shirt that fits her curves in all the perfect ways.
I could fuck her right here against this counter looking that good. Great tits, pert nipples begging for my touch or for me to wrap my mouth around them. Just a little nip between the teeth before going lower and fucking her with my tongue until she comes, screaming my name. “Nice shirt. I didn’t know you were a fan?”
“The biggest,” she lies. I can tell by the smirk and mischievous eyes.
“My mom and dad could argue that title.”
She laughs. “Must be nice.” She looks relaxed after the bath, so I won’t dig in with deep questions. I’ve been curious about her parents for a while, and the story that led her to our high school junior year.
“That shirt’s a classic from our San Diego days.” I eye her, pretending I’m interested in the design, when I’m still staring at her tits. “That’s before we had a record deal. Nikki made those shirts in her bedroom. I sold them after the concert. Did you go to that show?”
“No. I wish I had, though.” She pulls it away from her chest and looks down at it. The edges are peeling off, and it hasn’t aged well, but it looks damn good on her. “I found it on eBay.” Lifting the hem of the shirt, she pulls something from the top of her shorts and slaps it down on the counter between us. “It came with your autograph.”
Chuckling, I pull the paper closer and study it. I glance up at her. “I would have given it to you for free.”
Strutting around the island, she holds the shirt up by the seams at her shoulders. “But then I wouldn’t have this gem.”
What am I going to do with her? I know what I want to . . .
“Nikki probably has some lying around back at her parents’ house.” I turn to face her as she leans her elbow on the counter and crosses one ankle over the other. She’s not only looking incredibly sexy but sassy as fuck. I thought she only had one glass of wine. I can’t wait to find out what happens when she has two.
“I’ll let you know if this one falls apart in the wash. It’s seen better days, but it’s vintage.”
“Sure is, and by the way”—I push the paper toward her—“it’s a forgery.”
Offense fills her muscles as she stares at the autograph. “Really? That sucks.”
“I have connections.”
She smirks. “So do I.”
Chuckling, I ask, “Wine?” I’m an evil bastard.
“Absolutely.” She stands upright and asks, “What’s for dinner? Eating brie and crackers while soaking in the tub was pretty glorious, but I’m hungry again.”
I pour the wine, still grinning. “Chicken pesto. Poppy’s specialty.” I slide the glass to her and then turn to get the dish out of the fridge. “She’s a private chef. Retired with the twins but still loves to cook.” Setting the foil pan of food on the stovetop, I heat the oven just like the directions say to do.
Cat comes behind me and peeks around. “What didn’t you think of? You’ve taken care of everything.”
Condoms. I remembered the wine and the bath products, so much food and drinks, and planning our days down to the hours. But I forgot the condoms. I don’t tell her that. I like to be prepared for action, but I’m not expecting us to make that leap this weekend. If all things go well, though, it might be back on the table. But ‘go slow’ still plays on my mind.
“Ow.” I turn to find her grinning like she’s up to no good. “Why’d you poke me?”
“Just making sure you’re real.”
“Oh, I’m real alright.” Since she can’t seem to keep space between us, I put my arm around her and pull her to my side.
“What’s going on, Faris?”
“Just making sure you’re real.”
Her arm comes around my back, holding my ribs. Leaning her head against my bicep, she whispers, “I’m real alright.”
The timer goes off, interrupting the moment. I’m not sure if we’ll get it back, so I wait a minute to hold her a little longer. I want to kiss her head like I used to, but that’s not slow, and it’s not about her. That’s about me. I get it. I even understand her request. It’s an adjustment, and it's new for me to have boundaries.
That she knows who she is and what works for her is so fucking sexy. And if I can be that guy for her, I won’t fuck it up again.
I put the pan in the oven and start the timer again. Cat retrieves her wine and walks to the window facing the lake. “How cold is it?”
“Freezing all the time, but swimmable.” I grab a beer from the fridge and toss the top in the trash on my way to join her. “Want to walk out? We have forty minutes.”
As soon as I open the door, she hightails it back to the bedroom. When she returns, she’s in a sweatshirt and sheepskin boots. How does she look so damn good in everything she wears?
Seeing her body through the clear water in the tub is a reminder. Although she had her back to me, she didn’t try to hide her body or make me look away as she bathed. She even asked me to wash her back. Slow has become the new foreplay for us.
I’m just glad she didn’t see my erection bulging against my jeans. It’s so uncomfortable and even worse when you know nothing can come of it, and you’ll be hitting one off in the shower later.
We walk out to the lake with our drinks in hand. The sun sets on the west side of the lake, reflecting off the water’s surface.
She asks, “Where are you sleeping?”
“Across the hall. There are two other rooms. I’m taking the back bedroom. It has a king-sized bed.”
“For a king,” she says, reminding me of the conversation we once had about her mattress. My memories usually resort to the bigger events where emotion plays the biggest role. So when I recall these moments of ours, I savor each of them.
She walks to the edge of the water and looks back like a kid in a candy store. “It’s so clear.” She really doesn’t get out much.
“It’s clear half a mile out. This lake is a hidden gem here in the mountains. Clean water, good fishing?—”
“Privacy from the world always watching?”
It’s nice to just exist without a camera on me. “It’s a perk.”
“Will you take me swimming tomorrow?”
I could crack a joke about yoga on a paddleboard helping that wish come true, but she seems confident and didn’t bat an eye at that activity listed on the schedule. “We can do that.”
The sun has just about set as we take sips and listen to nature sing its chorus—leaves rustling in the breeze, the lake lapping at the shore, and the birds that have come out to find their dinner singing in the trees above.
I watch strands of her hair blow around her neck and tickle the side of her face. She eventually pulls the long strands into a mess of a knot on her head. “Why didn’t we date in high school?” I ask.
Her wine spews. She hops backward in reaction to avoid the spray. When she stops laughing, she wipes her chin with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “You stand there, a real-life rock god?—”
“I’ll allow. Continue,” I say, rolling two fingers in front of me.
I’m popped on the arm before she can stop herself from laughing too hard to even speak. So one glass makes her sassy, and two leaves her with no inhibitions. Got it.
“You asked that like I have a say in the matter.”
“You could have asked me out,” I say, tossing it back to her.
“I could barely speak. I’m thrown into the deep end of the popular kids club simply because of my last name and the alphabet.” She stretches her neck. “Imagine being new, and you walk in your first day of school only to be sat next to Nikki, a teen beauty queen and lead singer of a rising beach band. Laird, who had girls scheming to sit next to him, and the prom king, Shane Faris, who had girls ready to hand over their V-cards. Like, how did I survive?”
“Just fine from the looks of it.” I take a long pull of beer. “You had guys lined up to date you, Cat.”
“Where?” she asks, throwing a hand out to the side. “Because they weren’t asking me out.”
“They were intimidated like I was. And just to set the record straight. Laird was prom king. I was homecoming king.”
She rolls her eyes, being absolutely adorable. “Tomato?—”
“Tomahto.”
“Comme ci?—”
“Comme ca.”
That earns me another laugh, and I’ll happily drink it in like this beer. She says, “You’re stealing my lines, kid.” Facing me like I can compete with the lake, she plucks the front of my shirt. “Let’s loop back to that part about you being intimidated by me. I’m going to need more details. Please explain.”
I recognize someone fishing for a compliment a mile away, but I don’t mind getting caught on her line. I’m happy to feed her. “You made me nervous. No girl had before. Why do you think I avoided you during junior year?”
“I thought you hated me for the longest time.”
“God . . .” I fill with regret. “Why would I hate you?”
“I don’t know. Insecurity from being a new kid because you were stuck seated next to me instead of Rachel Ferguson.”
“What? Why would I want to sit next to Rachel Ferguson?”
“Because she was beautiful and only had eyes for you.”
I laugh. Closing in on her, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “If it matters, I don’t remember Rachel Ferguson, but I never forgot you.”
“ If it matters? Yeah, it matters.” She leans against my chest with a gorgeous smile on her face. Turning to stand in front of me, she fists her shirt with one hand as she lowers the other with the glass in it. “You say the sweetest things. If you’re not careful—” She stops herself and takes a deep breath.
I cup her face, sliding my palm under her jaw and lifting until her eyes meet mine. “I’ll be careful with you, but I won’t be careful with how I feel. I’m all in, babe.”
Our gazes hold as the sun sets beneath the tree line. She nods slightly and then says, “Rachel Ferguson would be so jealous right now.”
“And how does Catalina Farin feel?”
Gripping my shirt as if the thin material could keep steady, she whispers, “Like the luckiest woman alive.”
I’m close to kissing her, but that’s not slow, so I lean down to whisper in her ear, “You make me feel like I did something right in this world.”
She raises her hand, sliding it over the rough of my unshaven face, and holds me to her. “I know you’re trying to do the right thing, Shane. I see you. I feel the change in you. I never asked for you to do that, but I won’t deny that I’ve never felt more cherished than with you. You make me feel like I’m your world?—”
“My world. The universe. The stars. A goddess. My everything.” Closing my eyes, I angle to breathe her in but am met with soft lips that caress mine and a craving that her body can’t quite satisfy by how her nails scrape across my scalp and down my neck.
I drop the beer and take her face in my hands. “Are you sure?”
Covering my hands with hers, she says, “Kiss me, babe.”
I kiss her so good that I grab her when her knees go weak, our tongues caressing while our bodies find purchase against each other. This is what I dreamed of.
The warmth of her embrace.
The slick of her tongue as it dances with mine.
The bump of teeth doesn’t matter.
Only we do.
I bend down and scoop her into my arms. Our lips stay attached as I walk back to the house, backing through the door, and when I set her on the couch. But are ripped apart when I tug her by the ankles lower on the leather couch. Getting on my knees, I slide my body so she feels my full erection between her legs. I kiss her again as I lower down on top of her.
Her arms come around my neck, and her thighs squeeze both sides of my torso. And when our tongues explore each other’s mouths, I rock against her. She feels too good, and I know I won’t last. It’s been too long, holding myself back.
I pull back, our mouths separated against my better judgment. I don’t know why I torture myself this way, but I breathe through the ache that would have me fucking her so hard that she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow, much less do paddleboard yoga.
She searches my eyes. “Why’d you stop?”
“I said it before. It stands true now.” I slide my hands under the bulky sweatshirt to find her nipples sharp and stretching against the fabric. “I only want to be inside you.”
“We can. You can.”
I can’t. Fucking hell. How could I forget the condoms?
Distract. Distract. Distract from getting myself off by rubbing her raw. I can’t use her like that. Lowering down to the other side of the couch, I hook my fingers over the top of her shorts and pull them down, admiring her sweet pussy again. “Damn, I can’t wait to taste you again.”
And then the timer goes off.
Fuck me.