13. Kate
Chapter Thirteen
Kate
I woke slowly with that kind of half-conscious drift that tricked you into forgetting the world existed outside the sheets. For a second, I stayed still, curled up in the warmth, letting last night unfurl behind my eyes.
The sound of his voice in the darkness of his bedroom. The heat of his lips on my neck. The way he said my name like it meant something. It was all still there, vibrating through my very bones.
I reached for him without thinking, and touched nothing but cool linen.
My hand stayed there for a moment, flat on the space he’d left, willing it to warm under my palm.
My heart sank. Somewhere in the flat, I could hear movement.
The rustle of clothes in a bag, a zip being closed.
Then the scrape of a chair leg against wood.
My eyes stayed shut. Like if I kept them closed long enough, I could rewind to last night. Will him back into bed tangled up beside me, still half asleep with that stupid, devastating smile on his face.
Here we go, I’d thought to myself. This was the part I’d rehearsed a hundred times. The quiet letdown. The kind smile. The polite goodbye that said thanks for last night, but I’m not looking for anything serious.
God, I hated how quickly my mind had defaulted there. That was what self-preservation looked like, right? Assume the worst. Beat him to it.
I was such a bloody idiot.
Because I’d felt it. All night. Not just the obvious, although, Jesus, the obvious, but the way he’d looked at me like I was something rare. Like I’d surprised him. And maybe that’s what made it worse.
I knew how this went. I knew how quickly men changed their minds once the mystery wore off. Once the lights were on, and your makeup was smudged, and your hair wasn’t perfectly swept over your shoulder anymore. Once they saw the full picture of all the parts you’d disguised the night before.
I didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Just lay there and let the thoughts claw their way in like they always did. And then I felt the bed dip beside me.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and warm as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
I cracked one eye open. He looked freshly showered, damp hair dripping onto the collar of a T-shirt, skin still pink from the heat. Devastatingly handsome in a way that should have been illegal before sunrise. His grin was sleepy, but satisfied. Almost like he didn’t want to leave.
“Early start?” My voice came out rough with sleep. He rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. Club by seven. Media stuff, stretching, recovery. The works.”
That disappointment in my gut eased, just a little. He didn’t look like a man trying to escape. He looked like a man being dragged away from something he hadn’t finished.
“Stay as long as you want,” he said gently. “I’ll leave a key. There’s coffee in the cupboard. The good stuff.”
His words landed sideways. None of what he was saying sounded casual.
I opened my mouth to say…something. To ask about last night. But before I could, he leaned in, kissing me again slowly, making my insides flutter, grounding me before my brain could race too far ahead.
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut, and the room felt empty without him. The air grew cooler, and the silence was amplified. I was acutely aware that I was alone, in someone else’s house. Someone I’d barely known a day.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my heart thudding far too fast for 6:00 a.m. The doubts came creeping back, sharp-edged and familiar. This isn’t real. He’s just nice. You’re just a convenient distraction.
I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and pulled the nearest thing over my head—his T-shirt. It was oversized and soft, still holding his warmth and scent. Just that alone was enough to make my chest ache, and it was dangerous how much it did.
Right. Pull yourself together, Kate. I hadn’t even made it out of bed before Gwen had demanded details over text. I’d caved and sent one line:
Me
He ripped my underwear.
It was enough to earn me three missed calls and a string of messages I ignored until I had coffee in me.
I went into autopilot in the kitchen. Bare feet on the cool tiles, searching for a mug, scooping coffee, and telling myself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just sex.
My body still remembered him, though. The way his fingers had dug into my hips, the scratch of his stubble against my neck, and that incredible stretch that had left me undone.
Back in the bedroom, the air still felt thick with memory. The duvet was rumpled, sheets twisted, the smell of sex and skin clinging to the space. My gaze landed on my torn lace thong, half-tucked under the bed. Fuck.
I stared, biting my lip as I replayed the moment he’d torn it away. Then, a dark thought ignited. I picked it up, spun it around my finger, and placed it squarely on his pillow. Just for good measure, I added the T-shirt I’d worn, draping it there like a challenge. Or a threat. I wasn’t sure which.
Let him remember. Let him feel it. Ball’s in your court, Taylor.
I locked the flat, slid his key into my pocket, and pulled out my phone.
Me:
Headed back to Gwen’s. Thanks for the coffee…and the other stuff.
Not leaving your key outside. Too many psychopaths in London.
I’ll leave it with Gwen.
Sent.
In the Uber, I saw myself in the window.
In last night’s dress. My hair was a disaster, cheeks were flushed, lips were still swollen, and my body ached from the aftereffects of being, well, adored by Jordan Taylor.
God, I was a wreck. This wasn’t just a fling, I could feel it. I just didn’t know if he felt it, too.
I slipped the key into the lock of Gwen’s Richmond townhouse and turned it carefully, like I might set off an alarm if I breathed too loud. I was praying they were all still in bed. The hallway was dim and quiet. Lola couldn’t be up yet.
Shoes in one hand, bag slung over my shoulder, hair an unapologetic mess that was half sex, half sleep, all chaos, I tiptoed into the house.
I hadn’t meant to stay the night. That wasn’t the plan. But when he asked, all sense fell out of my supposedly intelligent brain. One look into those golden-brown eyes, and I’d have walked off a cliff if he’d asked me to.
Okay, so I absolutely didn’t plan on waking up cuddled with the most ridiculously attractive man I’d ever seen. We were all tangled up in sheets and limbs, and then he kissed my forehead, which completely undid me—more than anything else had.
I felt…ruined. Not just physically—though yes, in ways that deserved a public health warning—but emotionally, too. Like something had split open inside me and now everything vulnerable was exposed to the air.
And now I was supposed to spend the day entertaining a six-year-old.
Gwen and Tom were working, so I’d agreed to watch Lola.
Honestly, I didn’t mind at all; she was an absolute delight.
And I, of course, was the coolest Auntie Katie ever.
Besides, she was a welcome distraction from the downward spiral I felt pulling me under like a riptide.
I had big plans, none of which involved fantasizing about Jordan Taylor and his massive… well, you get the idea.
I barely made it to the stairs when I heard Gwen’s voice, smug and far too alert for this hour.
“Been a while since you did the walk of shame, Ashford.”
I winced. Bloody Gwen.
I didn’t say a word, instead inching towards the stairs, trying to be as stealthy as a teenager returning home before dawn.
But then she was there, in the kitchen doorway, looking completely refreshed, ready for work, with a mug in her hand and a smirk plastered across her face. Totally smug and judgmental.
“Very funny,” I muttered, aiming for the stairs.
“Absolutely not.” She planted herself in the doorway. “You’re not fleeing until I get the full rundown. I want descriptions, details, size, everything.”
I groaned, tossed my shoes by the stairs like a Victorian heroine, and slumped into a kitchen chair. Gwen slid a coffee in front of me like the saint she was.
One sip in, and I almost felt human again.
“So,” she said, folding her arms, “did he live up to the hype?”
I let out a breath, mouth twitching into a reluctant smile. “He left me coffee. Kissed my forehead. And looked at me like I was the reason he didn’t want to leave.”
“Was he…” She cocked an eyebrow, hinting at what she was asking.
“Fucking massive,” I said before we both dissolved into laughter.
Then Gwen’s smirk softened, just for a second. She’d seen the wreckage and the betrayal in my past. Even the slow, messy climb back. She knew this wasn’t just about sex.
“And how do you feel?” she asked quietly.
I stared into my mug, stalling my thoughts. “Terrified,” I admitted finally. “I think I like him. Properly. But he’s this…thing. He’s on the brink of being everywhere. Famous-famous. Cameras. Posters. Interviews. And I’m just…me.”
Gwen tilted her head. “You say that like just you isn’t one of the smartest, funniest, most beautiful women I know. He’s bloody lucky he even convinced you to go on a date.”
I smiled weakly. She meant it, I knew she did. But compliments always seemed to hit a wall before they reached my brain.
“Is this about what he’s really thinking,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “or are you just waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
My throat tightened. “Bit of both.”
Because that’s what I did. Waited for the reveal. The moment the man I’d let in decided I wasn’t worth staying for.
“I’m glad you had fun,” Gwen said, sitting beside me now. “You needed it. But if you’re catching feelings…just be careful, okay? These guys live at warp speed. They don’t always mean to hurt anyone. Sometimes they just forget to check who they’re dragging along.”
“I know.” I nodded. “Trust me, I’ve already written the entire ending in my head. All of them. The sweet fade-out, the ghosting, the sudden goodbye, the it was nice to know you.”
“Good.” She grinned, merciless. “Now. Did he actually rip your underwear off or did I hallucinate that from your text?”
I laughed into my mug. “He ripped them, Gwen. My favourite pair.”
“Tragic,” she said with zero sympathy. “Worth the loss?”
I leaned back, smiling helplessly. “God, yes.”
She clapped like I’d just passed an exam. “Right. Go shower. You smell like sex and self-discovery. I’ll get Lola up.”
I stood with a stretch, immediately wincing.
“My legs are genuinely sore.”
Gwen snorted. “If I’d known thirty-four came with a second sexual awakening, I’d have kept up my tennis career.”
I grinned to myself as I climbed the stairs, muscles aching, heart full and fragile all at once.
I didn’t know where this was going. Maybe it would all go up in smoke.
But for the first time in a long time, I wanted to find out.