by Lucy Score
“Who says I have feelings?”
“The fact that we’re having this conversation!”
“Fair enough,” Cat was yelling. “So, what do I do? Give me some married lady, smart woman wisdom here.”
“I guess you find out if Noah’s okay with some short-term naked fun and go from there,” Paige suggested.
Cat nodded. “Good idea. That I can work with. How do I find that out?”
Paige laughed. “When’s the last time you were in a relationship?”
“I don’t know. I guess Drake?”
Paige scoffed. “Please, that was just a two-month long booty call. There was no relationship there.”
Cat frowned and dug her way back through her sexual history. “I guess it was Miguel?”
Paige frowned. “I don’t remember him.”
“That’s because I dated him my senior year of high school. He took me to prom. I gave him his first blow job.” Cat smiled fondly at the memory.
“You’re a piece of work.” Paige shook her head.
“My blow jobs are masterpieces,” Cat insisted.
“You’re thirty-how-old, and you’ve never been in a relationship?”
“Do I look like I would even want to make the time?” Cat argued. “I love my life just as it is.”
“Then maybe you should let Noah walk away unscathed from this,” Paige suggested. “He’s divorced. You already know he does the relationship thing. What if he gets attached and then we pack up and drive on back to the city?”
“Noah isn’t some sad puppy who’d run after my truck as I leave town,” Cat insisted. She rubbed a hand over her heart that had inexplicably started to ache. She’d felt it, that connection between them. It’s why she tried to make their second time more impersonal, but she’d fucked that up too. Watching him over her shoulder. She’d felt their connection in her blood when they came together. It wasn’t just another fling. But it couldn’t be a relationship.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Cat let herself into her trailer and face-planted on the couch. The long days of filming hadn’t always bothered her, certainly not when the ratings for the first two episodes were sky-high. But this show was more hands-on than most, and the lack of sleep from the night before caught up with her by noon. She’d had a ridiculous amount of caffeine that had decided to abandon her system all at once, leaving her weak and shaky.
It was the only explanation for how filming with Reggie had gone.
Reggie’s reveal had gone well. The man had cried standing in the middle of his kitchen, clutching the new spatula Cat had engraved with the Jamaican flag.
Then of course Cat had cried. Something she rarely did on camera. Drake was already gracefully swiping errant tears from his gorgeous cheekbones, something both the female and gay viewership would swoon over when the show aired.
But no one needed to see her wipe snot on her sleeve every ten seconds. Cat chalked it up to the lack of sleep and the rawness she still felt. Noah had done something to her. He’d stripped her bare with a wild tenderness that she’d never known, never expected. And now her soul was just a little rough around the edges from it.
He’d texted her twice today. Sweet little messages.
Noah: Thinking about you and smiling like an idiot.
Noah: I have rug burn on my knees. I’ll treasure it until it scabs off and leaves gross scars.
She’d read them and smiled. But she hadn’t responded. She didn’t want to set a precedent there. Didn’t want him to start thinking of this… whatever it was as a relationship.
She sniffed the cushion under her face, wondering what the clean, pine scent was. It sure as hell wasn’t her. After the diner shoot, she’d hopped in with a paint crew at the Hai house and then driven thirty miles to a welder’s shop for her top secret special project that was going to be even better than she’d hoped.
She needed a shower and dinner, which she’d forgotten to ask Henry to order.
Ugh. Maybe she’d just skip it. Maybe she’d just go to bed, catch up on the sleep she’d missed, and start fresh and focused tomorrow.
But that fresh pine scent teased her until she picked her face up off the cushion. Her sad little fiber optic Christmas tree had been replaced with a live one, decked with lights. There were three boxes of ornaments— silly reindeer and snowmen—stacked up under the tree.
She frowned at the five feet of tree. Its colorful lights glowing cheerfully in the corner. There was an envelope stashed in the branches. She rose, plucked it from the tree.
To keep you in the Christmas mood.
Noah
She fought against the flutter in her stomach at his handwriting. Noah had gotten her a real live Christmas tree.
Cat glanced around the rest of the living space. It was neater than usual. She didn’t let Henry fuss with her private space. He had enough on his plate and everything about Cat’s life was temporary enough that a little mess didn’t drive her too batty.
But things had definitely been picked up, rearranged. Pillows were fluffed. Her blanket was folded. And the dining room table had been repaired.
Cat stalked into the kitchen, flustered. One night of stellar orgasms, and the man thought he had the right to paw through her personal things? She yanked open the refrigerator door, desperate for water or wine.
It was stocked. Salad fixings, cold grilled chicken, neat containers of black beans and vegetables. Everything she’d need for chicken salads. There were a dozen bottles of water neatly lining the top shelf. She grabbed the first one and the note stuck to it.
To keep your energy up.
Noah
Damn it! Cat wrenched open the bottle of water and drank deeply. She could have stocked her own fridge if she wanted to. Or at least had Henry do it. She didn’t need a keeper.
The bedroom smelled of fresh linens, and there was a week’s worth of clean laundry neatly folded on top of her precisely made bed. The man had stolen and washed her dirty underwear. It should have creeped her out. But the practicality of it made her heart soften, just a little. She had clean jeans to wear tomorrow, dinner tonight, and Noah had left a goddamn chocolate heart with another note on her pillow.
I have Sara tonight, but I wanted you to know I’m still thinking about last night.
Noah
Cat rubbed absently at the ache in her chest. He wasn’t making it easy to keep things simple, uncomplicated. And she had no idea how to handle it. Could she just avoid him until the end of the shoot?
She wandered back out to the living area, weighing her options, and spotted them. The papers she’d scattered near and far. Every application in her school location search. She’d been knee-deep in applicants when Noah had come not-knocking last night.
Those dozens of applications were now in a neat, thick stack with a slew of color coded sticky notes. Curious, she picked them up.
Population too small.
Geography a hindrance.
Employment rate high. Good for them, but not a good fit.
Baffled, Cat flopped down on the couch, clutching the paperwork. She’d been trying to make the same assessments for a week. And Noah just breezed into her personal space and helped himself?
She glanced at the handwritten note paper-clipped to the top of the stack.
Cat,
After a cursory glance, I don’t think any of these applicants are ideal for what you have planned. Just my two cents. And if you want my opinion—which you haven’t asked for—I’d recommend that you keep looking. The right location is out there.
Noah
It was the same conclusion she’d been dancing around last night. Either the physical location wasn’t right, zoning laws were too strict, or the local economy was already more than stable. She wanted to bring this school to a community that needed it, that would embrace it. But at least it was a start. She still had another month before the application process expired. She’d find it.
&nbs
p; She traced a finger over Noah’s hastily scrawled signature and, with a sigh, pulled out her phone. She snapped a picture of the stack of papers, the Christmas tree in the background.
Cat: I see I had a helpful elf here today.
When he didn’t respond immediately, Cat opened the boxes of ornaments. She took her time, hanging them in a pattern for best coverage. And while she did, she wondered how Noah knew she’d want to decorate the tree herself.
Her phone buzzed from the couch cushion.
Noah: Santa and his elves work 24/7 in Merry this time of year.
Cat smiled despite herself. The man had gone out and figured out how to do the nicest thing possible: save her time.
Cat: Well, please tell them I appreciate it.
Noah responded with a picture of his rug burn on one knee.
Noah: Not as much as I do.
She laughed and before she could think better of it, shucked off her shirt. She’d earned her own rug burn on her lower back over her hip bones. She snapped the picture over her shoulder and fired it off to him.
Noah: You’re literally killing me. How am I supposed to focus on Sara’s essay on M.C. Escher now?
Cat: From what I can recall you’re quite attentive. I’m sure you won’t have any problems.
Noah: The Hais are moving back into their house this week.
Cat: I’m aware.
They’d film for a day at the Hais. It would air as the next to last episode of the show.
Noah: They’re spending the weekend with Jasper’s parents, and Sara stays with her mom…
Cat paused and chewed on her lip.
Cat: Is that so?
Noah: How would you feel about spending the night here? With me. My shower is bigger than yours. And my couch is bigger than the Barbie furniture in your trailer.
Cat: Tempting.
It was. He was. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Three weeks to Christmas Eve
It was after ten when Cat slipped onto Noah’s porch under the cover of shadows and knocked softly. She leaned against the clapboard siding and stared out at the darkened neighborhood. They had three weeks before Christmas Eve. Three episodes had already aired, and people were talking about the show and not just speculating about her and Drake now. Best of all, a few more advertisers were on board. And she was riding the fine line of adrenaline and exhaustion.
The applications for the school were trickling in, still without a standout location. And with the grant money burning a hole, Cat was anxious to give the project her full focus. But that meant leaving Merry. Leaving Noah.
The door opened, and there he was. Hair disheveled, worn college t-shirt, and bare feet sticking out of those easy access sweatpants she found so sexy. He shoved his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and grinned at her.
Cat forgot all about her exhaustion and pushed him backwards into the house, hands flat on his chest. Noah pulled her into his arms, spinning them, and kicked the door closed. One-handed, he flipped the deadbolt.
“Bed?” she breathed when his mouth closed over hers.
She was already revved, ready for him. “I’m two floors up,” Noah said, biting at her lower lip.
“Couch first then,” Cat said, slipping her fingers into the stretchy waistband of his pants and pulling him toward the family room.
It was much the same as the last time she’d seen it except there was a fat tree crammed into the corner. It was covered in a hodge-podge of handmade ornaments, obviously family favorites, and glass bulbs. There was a lopsided plastic star perched atop the tree. A trio of candles blazed in the front window. Homey. Cozy.
“Boots. Pants. Lose ‘em,” Noah ordered, his mouth busying itself against hers. His tongue, a tempting devil that swept between her lips to taste her.
Cat heeled off her work boots, letting them land with twin thunks on the living room rug. Noah was too impatient to wait for Cat to get to her jeans and helped himself to her button and zipper. The denim bunched and slid down her legs until she was free.
Cat backed Noah up to the worn, comfortable couch, pressing him down.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked as he freed her from her coat and pulled her down to straddle him.
She swiped the hat off her head and threw it into a dark corner of the room. “Sure. After.”
His fingers opened her fleece vest and slid it from her shoulders. “How many damn layers?” he murmured as Cat shoved her hands into his hair.
Cat kissed him hard. “Three more.”
She shucked the thermal shirt off over her head, leaving him to stroke over the silky fabric of her tank top. “Two more,” she whispered.
Noah slid his hands under the hem and skimmed upward, drawing the tank with him.
“Last one,” she promised. He yanked at her bra, a simple sports design, and unceremoniously discarded it.
He paused for a breath, admiring the view of her bare breasts just inches from his face. Cat felt his erection lengthen beneath her. Then his hands, those rough and ready palms were on her, drawing out the winter’s cold and replacing it with a heat warm enough to scorch her. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste the tip of the breast closest to him.
Cat dropped her head back, her hair tickling her back, and sighed. Noah closed his mouth over the pink bud. The windows inches behind the couch fogged as Cat’s breath grew ragged. She rolled her hips against him, grinding against the cock that was straining against his sweatpants. He took a handful of both breasts and worshipped them one at a time with his busy mouth.
With some minor gymnastics, Cat managed to force his pants down a few inches. Just enough to free his hard-on. It jutted proudly, arching away from the flat lines of Noah’s stomach. Cat didn’t bother taking a moment to admire it. She pounced, gripping him firmly at the root. Noah groaned against her breast, the vibrations surrounding her aching nipple and tingling her to her core.
“I love when you touch me.” His voice was a gravel road on a Sunday drive.
Cat pumped up his shaft, brushing her thumb across the tip. She felt powerful as Noah collapsed back against the couch, his hands seeking purchase on the curves of her hips.
“I can see that,” she teased, stroking up the column of hot, smooth flesh.
His eyes were clamped shut, his jaw tight as if the pleasure she doled out was more torture than rapture. She loved watching him react to her. Increasing her pace, Cat gripped him tighter and lifted onto her knees.
“Hold this,” she ordered, pulling her simple gray briefs to one side. Noah’s finger snaked in and hooked the material. Wickedly, he brushed his thumb over the lips of her sex, and Cat’s breath caught in her throat.
She was the one in charge. She was the captain of this ship. Brushing aside his exploring digit, Cat brought the crown of his cock to the gap in her folds. She pleasured them both that way, hard, tight strokes that brushed her bud of nerves that was already begging for more.
She needed the control. Needed the anchor it gave her so she wouldn’t be swept away like last time. This was temporary. A fling, an affair. And she needed to be able to walk away from it, from him, heart intact.
Noah’s fingers dug bruises into the flesh of her hip. “Cat.” Her name from his lips made her toes curl with pleasure. There was so much in that one word. Need, desire, an ache, an echo of something so much deeper than she expected. It jettisoned her away from her anxieties from her agenda. Nothing else mattered.
Cat made a grab for the jeans she’d flung on the end of the sofa and fumbled through the pockets before finding the condom she’d stashed there. The foil crinkled between her fingers as she worked it open. She couldn’t wait. She’d wanted to torture Noah to the edge before riding him into oblivion, but she couldn’t take the empty ache in the depths of her core. He’d fill it. He’d fill her.
She rolled the condom on, sliding it down his thickness, and Noah
groaned. Still holding her underwear to the side, he lined himself up with her entrance. She wasn’t ready for him, wet but still so tight. As she slid down to sheath him, that edge between pleasure and pain cut at her with silver blades. Pain, fullness, and all-consuming pleasure. She was stretched tight around him and still hadn’t taken all of him in.
Noah gripped her by the hips and, with one hard yank, settled himself all the way inside her, her ass resting against his thighs. She was stretched beyond her limits, and it took more than a deep breath and then another to let herself start to relax around him.
He was panting beneath her—they both were—as if they’d run a mile at a flat-out sprint.
“God, did you get bigger since last time?” Cat gritted out.
“Just relax,” he ordered, breath ragged. “Relax and give me a minute, or I’m going to fuck you too hard before you’re ready and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
It was the threat that did it. Cat never backed down from a challenge. She wanted that feeling, that soreness tomorrow. Wanted to be reminded of Noah every time she took a step.
“Do it,” she begged. “Take me that way.”
She didn’t need to say it twice. With his grip painful on her hips, he guided her up and slammed her down on his cock, jarring her. She cried out. “Again.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, whispering the words.
“So sure. Need you.”
This time he held her in the air, biceps straining, and he pumped his hips into her from below. The steady slap of warm flesh, the catch of breath, the cries of pleasure and pain. It all filled the room in a music unlike any other.
