19. Gabe / Katherine
19
GABE / KATHERINE
Gabe
She’s back in a few seconds, kneeling down to mop up the coffee.
My cock aches at the sight.
I should not be daydreaming about her unzipping my pants and pulling my cock out. Wrapping those pretty pink lips around it. Teasing me with her tongue.
Fuck.
I bend down, scoop the coffee cups off the ground, and head for the kitchen in search of a trash can. Or a bag.
“Did you guys seriously get into a food fight?” Alex’s voice cuts through the quiet, saving me from having to detail all the reasons I’m enjoying myself .
Katherine
I bite my lip as a blush burns my cheeks.
“Something like that,” I quip as Alex enters the room.
Gabe is frozen in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand. I tug my gaze away and keep my back to his best friend.
What was I thinking?
Kissing two different men in one morning?
How did I go from zero men in my life, zero dates, zero prospects for a husband, and most importantly, zero kisses to kissing Alex and Gabe on the same day?
I wasn’t thinking.
I was feeling.
Living.
Experiencing the excitement that two opposites bring to the table.
I want more.
This feels crazy but also right. So I mop up the coffee and try to rein in my lust. No one’s breaking any laws.
Tell that to my heart.
It’s beating like a terrified bunny in my chest.
Standing, I glance at Alex. He’s got his hands on his hips. Fresh from the shower, his dark hair is finger-combed and still damp. So sexy. Inky dark jeans cling to his legs in all the right places. And a midnight black polo hugs his muscular torso.
My stomach does a backflip, and I melt from the inside out.
I rinse the rag in the sink, return to the window, and wipe up the sticky mess. The coffee. Not me. Although, yeah. When I push to my feet again, they’re still staring at each other. Like they’re having an entire conversation without words.
The tension is back. Thicker than ever. And gracious, I want to know what they’re thinking.
Has Alex figured it out?
I wouldn’t be surprised. Mr. Watchful.
“So. . .”
There’s a long beat of silence, and then they glance over at me.
“What’s the plan?”
With any luck, my phone will be dead, and I won’t have to deal with all the messages waiting for me. On the other hand, I owe LaShonda a call. She’s probably worried.
And as much as I’d like to hide out here for a week and not deal with whatever the hell is happening out there, I can’t stay in this house much longer. Standing this close to them makes my skin sizzle with awareness. My breasts are heavy, and my nipples are aching little peaks.
They turned me on just by walking down the hall last night, and I’m not entirely sure I’ve recovered.
“Right. Well, I need to take a shower and then get in touch with the interior designer,” Gabe says.
“Soap’s in the shower,” Alex offers. He narrows his gaze on his friend and I swear he smirks. “Clothes are in the duffle.”
“Thanks.” The word is dry and humorless.
What is going on between the two of them? I can’t have them fighting because of me. This isn’t a rom-com set in Alabama.
Gabe strides off, and my stomach ties itself in a giant knot.
I hate the uneasiness.
“There are clothes for you, too,” Alex murmurs, taking the rag from me. He moves to the sink, rinses, then rings it out.
“Thanks.”
“Had to guess at your size.”
That’s a loaded statement.
Finished with his task, he moves through the far side of the kitchen and disappears down the hall. A moment later, he’s back with a bag from a familiar boutique. I peek inside.
Leggings. A sweatshirt. Shoes.
All similar to items I have at home. Things I would have chosen myself.
The sizzling sensation turns to an all-out wildfire. I don’t know how he knew or how he made it happen, but I’m in awe of the way he pays attention.
How can one outfit make me feel so seen?
“Be right back,” I say, stomach twisting.
The urge to hug him, to press a kiss against his freshly shaven cheek, is almost more than I can stand. I literally feel hollow inside from the restraint it takes.
Turning on my heel, I head to the closest bedroom and close the door behind me.
Alex Hunt is a good guesser. The leggings glide over my hips. The sweatshirt is uber-soft inside and oversized with a slouchy, off-the-shoulder design, and the slip-on sneakers hug my feet perfectly. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a peek in my closet.
Unfortunately, I’m stuck with last night’s panties for the time being.
I fold Alex’s t-shirt as I exit the bedroom. He’s perched on a bucket in the living room. God, he’s too good to be true. Looking so big and bad in the soft light. I want to curl up in his lap and never leave.
Danger. Danger.
I need to focus on the plan. Damage control.
What plan? my heart asks.
He glances up, those deep, dark chocolate eyes taking me in in a single sweep.
The awkwardness slides away because, as usual, I feel pulled to him. Pulled. Calmed. Lighter .
He takes the shirt from my hands and drops it onto the pile of lumber.
“Everything fit?”
“Perfectly. Thank you.” Thank goodness the sweatshirt is thick and soft because without a bra and being so close to this man, my nipples are standing at attention. They’re so tight it’s almost painful. “I feel like that’s all I’ve been saying to you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I guess I should put on my big girl panties and check my phone.”
That’s LaShonda’s favorite phrase, and I stole it freshman year. Somehow, it makes adulting a little easier. But I really don’t want to face the music yet.
As I start to turn away, Alex reaches for my wrist. His hand is so big, strong, and decadently warm.
He gives me a tug, and I topple into his lap.
My insides go wild, nerve endings lighting up like a Christmas tree. How did he know what I wanted?
What I needed?
A few more minutes without having to let the outside world into our bubble.
“The guy at the auction. How do you know him?”
“Tyler?” Well, that’s a good way to freeze my lust. “We dated for a few months. Nothing serious.”
Alex frowns. It’s so different from his normal, stoic ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression. Downright scary.
“Then why was he bidding on you?”
“I guess he didn’t get the memo. I don’t think it’s too much to expect the man I’m dating to do what I want to do rather than what my mother wants us to do.”
“I don’t follow.”
I shrug. Maybe I’m being petty. “It was just a weird feeling. After the first few dates, it became obvious that he’s a climber. That he knows my mother. That’s not odd, I guess. Mother likes to think she knows every one of importance. There was a play I wanted to see, and I could only get tickets for this one Thursday night. But it was the same night as this event my mom wanted me to attend, so I said no, thinking that was the end of it.”
Alex makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl. I don’t know how I know, but he would always put his woman first. And that thought has me relaxing in the circle of his arms.
I’ve never felt more at home than I do right now.
It’s beyond delicious. I sincerely wish we were on my sectional, where we could cuddle for as long as he let me.
He cups my cheek and rubs a thumb across my bottom lip. My pussy tingles, ready to do a cabaret dance if that will get his attention. Greedy bitch .
“Finish your story so I can kiss you again.”
My brows lift in surprise, and pleasure flows through me in a slow wave. I stare at his lips, my breath coming in shallow pants now. He expects me to think? To speak? When he?—
I shake my head to clear it, then lick my lips.
A very distinct protrusion flexes against the back of my thigh, and I practically turn to a puddle of needy goo in his lap.
How pathetic am I?
Feel a guy’s dick and go boneless?
I blow out a sigh and finish the story. “Tyler sided with her. He wanted to go to the event and show me off and come out as a couple. It was three days of a grown man pouting because he and my mom weren’t getting their way. First, he went radio silent on texts for two days, and then he spent a day telling me all the cool people we’d get to meet.”
I roll my eyes. If it’d been the first time he’d played that game, maybe I could have let the whole thing slide. I’m not above compromising.
“When I reminded him I already had tickets to the play, it was like he completely forgot he’d said he’d go with me. Like I hadn’t watched him schedule it in his calendar. I don’t know how she got to him, but suddenly, her event was more important than me. And I just?—”
My chest burns with pent-up rage, with having my feelings cast aside repeatedly so everyone else could have their way. Get ahead. What’s the point of success if you feel like dog poo?
“He was seriously confused that I didn’t fall in line with my mother’s wishes. That I really wanted to see a play rather than rubbing shoulders with a bunch of rich snobs.”
Alex’s brows lift.
“I know,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m kind of a rich snob.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he says in that deep, rumbling voice I love so much.
“Anyway, I told him I was going to the play. Without him.”
He watches me for several seconds, gaze roving my face. And then those keen eyes lock with mine, and my stomach flips.
His hand squeezes my hip, prodding me. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He all but growls the words. This is him in protector mode.
Is he trying to melt my panties? “What makes you think I’m not telling you something?”
“Because your eyes flit around, not wanting to meet mine, and you cave in on yourself. Doubting your worth and opinion.”
“You really are too good to be true,” I whisper. Then I straighten my spine. “After I told him I was going alone, he told me he’d go to my ‘silly play’ but that my mother would not be happy with us.” A low growl rumbles from Alex’s chest, and I melt. “I told him there was no us anymore.”
“Good girl.”
Well, there they went. Goodbye panties. Hello hormones.