13 Cate #2
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.”