Chapter 35 All the Real Stuff
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
All the Real Stuff
IRINA
Iwoke to sun blazing in through the windows and an empty bed. Well, empty except for the purring mass of orange that was curled up between my splayed legs.
I stretched, enjoying the feeling of having been very well fucked—twice. And that second time … o Doamne, it felt like a fever dream, like the sort of sex a couple who really knew one another might have.
But didn’t Henry know me better than pretty much anyone else at this point? Last night, I’d told him more about my past than I’d told anyone. I’d made myself vulnerable. And he’d responded, not as I had expected, but with kindness and understanding.
Maybe sharing the rest with him wouldn’t be all that awful?
I sighed, thinking of the box I’d retrieved from my bedroom. Yes, it would.
I’d been deliriously happy last night, when he was inside me. When he cared for me. But now, reality was creeping back in, and that sort of happiness, it just didn’t last. And I needed our marriage to last.
Disappointment sank like lead into the pit of my stomach, and I reached out to scratch Abernathy’s head.
He lolled onto his back, and I stroked the lighter fur on his belly.
“If only the rules weren’t so fucking necessary, Abs,” I murmured.
One eye slitted open and found me with that judgemental gleam that cats had down to a fine art.
I hauled myself off the bed, finding the mostly-empty plate of fairy bread sitting on Henry’s desk.
I scooped it up and headed for the door.
No time like the present to face the walk of shame back to my own bedroom after having slept with my husband who I wasn’t supposed to be getting intimate with.
As the door opened, two male voices stopped talking. I glanced up, finding Henry and Lucian at the table.
Henry looked utterly adorable, with his bed-head curls and his cup of coffee. I longed to make a bee line for him, plonk myself down on his lap and plant a kiss on that stubbly cheek of his. And then another, right on those lips that would taste like coffee … and me.
They’d clearly been deep in discussion, but Henry’s face went pink when Lucian noticed me—still wearing Henry’s T-shirt and his boxer briefs. Lucian glowered in my direction, brows knitting.
Henry, on the other hand, looked everywhere except at me, his mouth a tight line that had my nerves jangling and all those naughty, romance-y thoughts tightening into a guilty ball in the pit of my stomach.
Lucian’s perma-scowl deepened, and he turned an accusing glare on Henry. I waited, expecting Henry to defend himself—defend us—but all that happened was his blush deepened.
“Don’t worry, Lucian,” I said acidly and with a confidence I didn’t feel as I strutted past the table. “It won’t happen again. Henry and I just needed to get it out of our system. And that’s exactly what we did. No more bumping dirty squirty bits, we’ll be purely professional!”
I dumped the stale fairy bread into the bin and the plate into the dishwasher. As I stalked from the kitchen, I overheard Lucian mutter, “What the fuck, Bax? What do you think you’re doing?”
I paused at the top of the stairs, morbid curiosity overtaking my need to get away.
Henry sighed. “Letting temporary insanity take hold … I—”
That was all I could handle. I scurried away to my bedroom, shutting the door firmly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I dropped my head into my hands and sucked in a long breath. And then another. And another.
What did he mean by temporary insanity? Was last night just a moment of reckless stupidity for him? Meanwhile, here I was, realising that one night with him had changed me. I wasn’t going insane, in fact, I felt more clarity about Henry than I had with any person I’d been with.
But it didn’t change the fact that we’d both agreed, even if he was having a brief lapse of sanity, that it was just for one night. That it was one night of pretending that we were in a real marriage, with all the marital perks that came with it.
If he was already regretting it … I fell back against my pillows. Then the best thing to do would be to pretend it never happened. To go back to what we were before last night.
Two years of it though? That was going to kill me. Especially after getting a taste of what the real thing would be like with him.
But at the end of it, I’d be an Australian resident. That was what I had to keep telling myself. I’d be official, and legal, and no one would be able to force me back to Romania … to him. And wasn’t that worth more than a romance with Henry, no matter how strong my feelings for him were growing?
I stood and went to run a nice hot shower. As much as I wished I could marinate in the scent of Henry that clung to my skin and hair forever, it wasn’t exactly helping me to keep a level head. I needed to scrub the ghost of him off my body.
If only I could take a loofah to my heart too … before it was too late.
It was already too late.
Pizd?.
A knock on the door startled me as I was towelling my hair dry. I wrapped the towel around my head with hands that shook, taking longer than was normal to make sure every strand was tucked up underneath. I was stalling. I wasn’t ready to face him one on one.
G?in?, the little voice inside my head taunted. I was a chicken. But between the brain-chemistry-altering sex and having to look him in the eyes in the cold light of day, knowing that he knew about my family, was it any wonder I was freaking out?
“Catnip?”
I swallowed back the urge to open the window and launch myself straight out into Sydney Harbour.
“Come in!” I cursed myself for the tremble in my voice.
The door opened, and in streaked an orange blur.
He launched himself into my lap with a forlorn yowl.
I winced as claws pricked my skin, silently thanked Abernathy for putting a barrier between me and the adorable, sexy, sweet man in the slutty little glasses who poked his head tentatively around the door.
“Morning,” he greeted, and naiba, that voice of his. Would I forever be reminded of him pleading, ‘Take me deeper, Catnip’ every time he spoke?
“Good morning,” I replied formally, stroking Abs with intense concentration.
“So …” The bed dipped as he sat beside me, and I failed to suppress a shiver when the warm solidness of his bicep brushed against mine. “Last night … it hasn’t made things awkward, has it?”
Fuck … yes …
“Of course not!” I replied breezily, steeling myself and turning to face him, flashing what I hoped was a carefree smile. His eyes were serious, expression concerned, and a piece of my heart splintered. That wasn’t the expression of someone who was struggling with … feelings.
It was the look of a man who had gotten his temporary insanity under control and had come to check on the weak link in the partnership.
“Okay.” He sounded uncertain, and his hands gripped his knees. “I’m sorry.”
My heart fluttered. “What for?”
“I should have controlled myself. I know that we agreed that we needed to keep a modicum of distance for this to work, and I—”
“Do not apologise, Henry,” I blurted, throat thick.
I cleared it. Have you forgotten how to pretend everything is fine, Ri?
In Romania, that was your life! “Like I said earlier, I think we needed to get it out of our systems. Now all that sexual tension has been relieved, and we can get on with the fake marriage business without it hanging over our heads.”
“Is that really how you feel?” Henry’s expression looked so wholly unconvinced by me that I forced out a laugh, smacking him on the arm with the back of my hand. “Sure is! Look, I’ve never been one to confuse sex with emotions, so … we’re all good, buddy!”
I inwardly cringed. Buddy? What was wrong with me? I shot to my feet, Abernathy tumbling to the floor with a disgusted, “Meowp!” He immediately jumped back onto the bed, shot Henry a doleful glare and stalked up to my pillow where he curled up, covering his face with his tail.
“I’m heading to Icebergs for a swim!” I announced, rummaging in my closet for my swim bag. “I need to get myself back into a routine with my training. Not that it matters, I suppose; I really should just let go of the Olympic pipe dream, but—”
Henry shot to his feet, his hands wrapping around the back of my neck. “You don’t need to let go of anything, Catnip.”
“In swimming years, I’m ancient,” I mumbled, my face heating under his warm palms … under the intensity of his green gaze.
Henry shook his head, his thumbs cupping my jaw. “You’re not. You’re better than almost all the freestyle sprinters your age! Working towards the Olympics is your dream, and I refuse to let you give up.”
“I …” I couldn’t find words. Involuntarily I stepped closer, resting my head on his shoulder. His arms came around me. I basked in the feeling of security I got from being in his arms. At least a ‘modicum of distance’ didn’t include comforting me with hugs.
“I can’t come to swim with you today,” he mumbled into my hair, an air of disappointment in his voice. “I’ve got some Zoom calls with the States that I can’t miss. But after last night, I don’t feel comfortable letting you out of my sight without security. I’ll have Lucian—”
“Not Lucian, he hates me!” I groaned against his chest. The feeling was decidedly mutual, after that disgusted glare he’d shot at Henry when he realised the two of us had spent the night together. Asshole.
“It takes a lot to earn Lucian’s trust when it comes to me. We’ve been through a lot together, and he …” Henry trailed off, and I leaned back to study his face. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was tight, as if he’d just stopped himself from saying something he didn’t want me to hear.
“I trusted you with my stuff last night,” I reminded him gently. “I think we need to update our rules. If we can’t trust each other, this isn’t going to work.”
Henry nodded, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “He warned me about Cadence, not long after I started dating her. He said he thought she was at the very least flirting with other men, and he had suspicions that it was more. I shrugged it off, told him that we weren’t exclusive …”
“But you were exclusive, weren’t you?” I prompted. “You’re not the kind of man to have more than one girl on the go at once.”
Henry’s eyes fixed on mine, his fingers tracing up and down my back. “Catnip, since we’re sharing secrets … Cadence was the first woman I slept with … and you were the second.”
My jaw dropped.
“No,” I breathed. It was the only word that my brain could conjure up.
He nodded, eyes not leaving mine. When Henry gave eye contact, it was intense, and lasting, and it burrowed deep into me. “You just said that I’m not the kind of man to have multiple women on the hook. I’m not the kind of man who ‘has’ even one woman. Not unless …”
No. Nope. I could not have this conversation with him. I couldn’t stand here and listen to him tell me I was special enough to be one of only two women he’d been with, while I’d heard him tell Lucian it had been a moment of temporary insanity.
Henry cleared his throat, eyes flitting away, and whatever he’d been planning to say, the moment passed without him sharing. His hands slid up to my shoulders, rhythmically gripping me there. Grounding himself, with my body.
“Anyway, it turns out that Lucian was right about Cadence, and I wasted four years being faithful to someone who was regularly unfaithful to me—and who decided to throw her infidelity in my face to get me to end things with her—on the night I’d planned to propose.”
I blinked, my head reeling. “What a bitch!”
Henry chuckled mirthlessly. “Indeed. Turns out it was for the best, anyway. If she hadn’t wanted out, I would have married her, and turned my ignorant head when she slept around behind my back … and I wouldn’t have been able to help you with your predicament.”
“Well, thanks Cadence, for being a whorebag, I guess,” I said in a dejected tone that had my joke falling flat. I stepped out of the warmth of his arms. “I’ve got to get to the pool. Can you go make sure Lucian is okay to babysit me?”
I hadn’t meant to sound so sharp. Henry flinched and turned stiffly for the door. “Of course. I’ll have him meet you up on deck in five.”
And then he was gone, and I was breathless, and my chest ached, and my stomach fluttered, and I’d never felt this confused about another person in my life—man or woman.
I found my racing swimmers and tugged them on over limbs that felt numb.
“Two years is not that long,” I muttered to myself. “I can get through it without needing all of him.”
Lying to myself had never been this difficult before.