Three…four…five…
"Kat?" He sat up, gently nudging her to do the same. "You okay?"
Six…seven.
Seven weeks.
A shiver ran up her spine. "Oh shit."
Thirty
"It could just be from stress." Kat ran a shaking hand through her hair, avoiding Chris’ eyes. "It happens sometimes, if I’m stressed, and with work, with Dylan’s death, with all of that."
"Kat."
His gentle voice shook her into the present and she wondered how many times he’d said it. When she finally met his eyes, he said, "It could very well be any of those things, but it might not be." He nodded to the pregnancy test in her hand.
"Look, before I do this…" She looked at the blank test; as much as the very sight of it put her on edge, it was easier than facing Chris.
He touched her arm. "What?"
With a great deal of effort, she looked up. "What do we do if it’s positive?"
Sucking in a breath through his nose, it was his turn to avoid eye contact. "I, I don’t know. What do—"
"I can’t get…" She stopped herself, gritting her teeth as tears threatened.
He squeezed her arm gently. "Then it’s out of the question. If you can’t, or won’t, then…" Shaking his head, he made a dismissive gesture with his free hand. "You won’t."
She searched his eyes for confirmation and he gave her a reassuring smile. Her voice unsteady, she said, "So what do we do?"
"We don’t have to figure it all out overnight, Kat." His hand gently ran up and down her arm. "It took an impulsive moment to put us in this situation, but we have time to figure things out." He nodded towards the test in her hand. "And that all assumes that it’s even positive."
"Then I guess we should find out, shouldn’t we?"
~ * ~
He watched the door close behind her, then sat on the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and, with an exhausted sigh, let his forehead fall into his hands.
This wasn’t the first time he’d been through this nerve-wracking moment of truth. He and a girlfriend had had such a scare a few years back, and he’d spent a few hellish minutes outside her bathroom door waiting for a white plastic stick from the drugstore to decide his—their—fate. It was that same cornered, vulnerable feeling as being tied up and blindfolded, minus the escape route of a safe word.
She wasn’t pregnant, but their relationship didn’t last much longer after that. He simply couldn’t shake that fear of being trapped with her. It wasn’t that he was a man to run away from responsibility, quite the contrary, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of being tied to her.
Strangely enough, the nerves that coiled in his stomach now were not that scared, one twitch away from fight-or-flight feeling he’d had before. Nervous, terrified, uncomfortable…but not trapped.
If Kat was pregnant, then he was, by all rights, trapped with her. But in his mind, to his great surprise, all he could think was that this would effectively clip the wings of a bird that had no desire to fly away in the first place.
It was that feeling, that unflinching acceptance of possibly being bound to her, that terrified him.
~ * ~
As she washed her hands, Kat tried not to look at the test on the counter beside the sink. She needed to know, she had to know, but she didn’t want to know.
Staring at her own reflection, she took a deep breath and prayed for the millionth time that Chris wouldn’t resent her. She didn’t want him to feel tied to her. She wanted their friendship and relationship—whatever it was or became—to be consensual. If they moved onto something beyond this modified friendship, it had to be because he wanted her as much as she did, not because of obligation.
We’ve made our bed, and we’ll lie in it if we must, but
I want him to lie with me of his own free will.
On her way out of the bathroom, she kept a deathgrip on the test, terrified to look. At him. At the test. At anything.
His voice broke the silence. "Positive or negative?"
"I don’t know. I haven’t looked."
"How long does it take?"
"A few seconds. I just can’t look."
The mattress creaked when he got up. She closed her eyes as he came towards her, his presence knocking the breath out of her just like it had that first night in her kitchen.
He gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist and whispered. "Then let me look."
She kept her eyes closed as he lifted her hand. Turning her hand over, he gently uncurled her fingers from around the test. When he sucked in a breath, her eyes flew open and she looked, not at the test, but at him. His eyebrows were knitted together, his lips tight but neutral. She realized then that the breath he drew was one of neither panic nor relief, but apprehension.
Almost imperceptibly, his shoulders dropped in the same moment that his Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. Panic surged through her as the twin creases between his eyebrows deepened. Is that an 'oh shit' or a 'thank God'?
He closed his hand around hers and looked up. The corner of his mouth twitched, upward, thank God, upward, and she released a breath before he even said it. "It’s negative."
Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her forehead. She put her arms around him and they just held each other in silence for a moment.
Now what? The question echoed through her mind with the same edgy uncertainty she’d expected had the test been positive. As relieved as she was that it was negative, there were still questions left unanswered. Where do we go from here? What do we do now?
Gently freeing herself from his arms, she met his eyes. Chris, are you still here?
She cleared her throat. "So what now?"
He cocked his head. "What do you mean?"
"Do we…" She paused, unsure how to even put it into words. She swallowed hard and plunged forward. "Does this change anything?"
"I think," he said, looking away and pursing his lips, his brow furrowing just as it had when he’d looked at the test. He met her eyes again. "I don’t think either of us will forget a condom again." The corner of his mouth tried to pull up, and he was obviously struggling to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes begged for permission to laugh.
She smiled, and when he laughed, she did too. After a moment, her smile fell. "So do you…" She swallowed. "You don’t want to stop what we’re doing?"
"I don’t," he said. "But if you’re not comfortable with it…"
"No, no, I am." She dropped her gaze.
He ran his fingers through her hair. "Kat, we fucked up that day. Once. One time." He kissed her lightly. "It happened in the heat of the moment, and I know that neither of us will let it happen again. So yeah, I’m fine with not changing a thing."
She thought about it for a moment, then grinned. "So I don’t have to twist your arm to sleep with me again?"
Pursing his lips, he shrugged. "Well, you could if you wanted to."
"Don’t tempt me."
"I thought that was my sworn duty as your booty call."
She laughed. "That’s true. It is."
He chuckled, then his expression turned serious. "You’re sure you’re okay with this? With everything?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Good." He hugged her, and an overwhelming but puzzling sense of relief swept over her.
This is just supposed to be a casual thing. She held him tighter, blinking back tears. Why am I so afraid of losing it?
Thirty One
Kat watched Chris in silence as he pulled his knee onto the cushion, twisting his hips so he was facing her but making no move to come closer. He rested his arm along the back of the couch, but drew his elbow back a little, as if trying to keep some distance from her. Eyes down, he stared at the vacant cushion between them.
"What’s wrong?" she asked.
At that, his eyes flicked up. He pursed his lips. "I guess I was just thinking."
She mirrored his position on the couch, letting her knee encroach on the cushion t
hat served as a barrier between them. He didn’t draw back, but didn’t come closer. She took a breath. "Thinking about what?"
He swallowed hard and looked her in the eye, almost looked through her as if he could read something she tried to hide. "This arrangement we have, this friends with benefits thing…"
Her heart pounded and her eyebrows lifted. "Yes?" Please don’t call it off. Please don’t call it off.
He spoke as if the words threatened to choke him. "What happens if one of us starts having feelings for the other?"
Oh God, he knows. He knows. Oh fuck. She cleared her throat. "Well, I…" She couldn’t find the words.
~ * ~
Shit, she knows. I shouldn’t have said anything. She probably sees right through me. He shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, hypothetically. If it happened. Down the line."
Her shoulders dropped a little and she let out a breath. A relieved breath. He didn’t know if that hurt or if he, too, was relieved.
She chewed her lip for a moment, looking at the cushion between them. "Hypothetically? I guess, I mean," she paused. "We’d deal with it when—if it happened, but we agreed to keep this as friends with benefits so we wouldn’t fuck up our friendship."
"Right, I know."
~ * ~
"I suppose if one of us developed feelings for the other…" She chanced a look at him, searching his eyes. "We’d have to call this arrangement off."
He nodded, watching his fingers drum the back of the couch. "You’re probably right."
"I can’t imagine sleeping together if our feelings were so different." But what if we felt the same way?
"Exactly."
"We’d be asking to get hurt." Do you know how much this is killing me?
He looked at her for a moment, his eyes seeming to probe her for information, looking for everything she was afraid he’d see. His voice low, he said, "So as long as we’re on the same page, then we’re okay."
Are we on the same page, Chris?
~ * ~
Her apprehension put him on edge. Did she suspect that he had feelings? Could she hear the words that were always a breath away from coming out at an inopportune moment? Shit, I never should have gone there. Just couldn’t let it rest, could I?
She dropped her gaze and he swore her cheeks colored a little.
His heart jumped into his throat. She couldn’t possibly feel the same, could she? Every fiber of his being screamed at him to ask, to just put it out there on the table, but he bit his tongue. There was too much at stake. She’d even said that if one of them had feelings and the other didn’t, they’d have to call this off. Go back to being friends.
Go back to being friends until we get tired of the charade and one of us stops calling.
He took a breath. "What are you thinking about?"
Her eyes met his again, her expression completely unreadable. Part of him was afraid he could see right through him. Part of him wished she could.
I can’t say it, Kat.
She shifted her weight, her eyes never leaving his.
Can you see what I feel for you?
Licking her lips, she said, "I was just thinking, you know, as long as we stay open and honest with each other, we can head anything like that off before it starts." She swallowed. "You know, before feelings get to be too much."
Too late.
~ * ~
He took a breath, nodding. "Right, I see what you mean."
She forced herself to smile. Be open and honest, yes, but I can’t because I’m too damned scared of losing you.
His gaze shifted. What if he didn’t see through her at all? What if he felt the same way? Her heart skipped.
If you do, Chris, say it. I promise, I won’t turn you away.
He met her eyes again, and something unreadable in his expression held her breath in her throat. Something unspoken.
~ * ~
His heart pounded. Say something.
~ * ~
She struggled to hold his gaze. Give me a sign.
~ * ~
Can’t you see it?
~ * ~
Stop deluding yourself, Katrina.
She smiled at him to break the tension. "Well, it’s good that we had this talk. Make sure we’re both on the same page." God, I wish you knew.
He returned her smile, the warmth in his expression loosening the knots in her shoulders. "Yeah, definitely."
The distance between them became unbearable. Even if he didn’t know, if he never knew, how she felt, she could love him in silence. At least, whether he felt the same way or not, he was here.
Her hand slid across the cushion and covered his knee.
~ * ~
Her nervous smile turned into a devilish grin. "And as long as we’re on the same page…"
If you only knew. He put his hand over hers, the warmth of her skin making his heart flutter. "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?"
"If it involves being naked and sweaty, you’d better believe it."
"Then that would be a yes." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. Together, they sank onto the couch.
As clothes came off and kisses deepened, as the sounds of orgasms echoed through the apartment, as she begged him to fuck her, he wished that just once he could tell her he wasn’t fucking her.
He was making love to her.
Thirty Two
With her lips still tingling from Blake’s good night kiss, Kat watched in her rearview as the silver Jaguar pulled out of the parking lot. The distinctive taillights faded from view as he turned onto a side street and disappeared.
As soon as he was out of sight, Kat let out a breath and closed her eyes. Her stomach was knotted with an uncomfortable mix of giddy butterflies, puzzling guilt, and the weight of an inevitable decision that she would have to make sooner than later.
Blake was everything she wanted in a man; intelligent, funny, attractive. An accent that melted her as easily as his kiss. Divorced, but not bitter. Interested, but not pushy. A total gentleman who clearly hid a dirty side that she desperately wanted to see.
So why did she balk at going home with him?
She’d gone home with plenty of guys that didn’t interest her nearly as much as he did, and some that had interested her. One night stands and weekend flings didn’t bother her, nor did sleeping with someone on a first date. The chemistry was there with Blake, had been since the moment she met him, but still she held back.
And she simply didn’t understand why.
She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, focusing on nothing in particular. She wasn’t cheating on Blake or Chris. Neither of them expected to be exclusive with her, and she could sleep with either of them with a clear conscience.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to sleep with Blake. After he was gone, she couldn’t bring herself to call Chris. Something about being with him after an evening with Blake didn’t sit well. Their casual relationship was a backup plan for dates gone sour and evenings with no plans, not dates that were perfect except for a case of cold feet.
Two hot, willing men, and she just couldn’t do it.
There was no denying what she felt for Chris, but rationally, she knew there was no point in waiting for him to feel the same way. They’d agreed to the rules, they were friends with benefits, and that was it. He simply wasn’t going to be anything more, and she knew that.
Blake, on the other hand, was available. Interested. Exactly what she wanted, and probably just what she needed. So why was she so damned guarded with him?
It wasn’t as if she couldn’t have the best of both worlds. As long as she and Blake were just casually dating, there was no reason she couldn’t keep things going with Chris. If things turned serious with Blake, though—
Her eyes flew open. Something sank in her stomach as the penny dropped.
Deep down, she was almost certain that if she and Blake continued, things would get serious. She’d had that gut feeling a few times in the past,
and had only been wrong once. There was that level of chemistry, that 'click', that said "he’s going to be around for a while". Getting serious with Blake wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.
If, that is, she let herself get involved with him.
And she realized that she wasn’t letting herself get involved with him because that would ultimately mean getting uninvolved with Chris. Blake was just the kind of guy she’d been looking for all along. The only thing that kept her guarded and out of his reach was the man that was out of her reach.
"Fuck," she whispered into the silence. She rubbed her eyes and started the car.
All along, she knew this intimate relationship with Chris would eventually come to a crossroads, a point in time when a decision would have to be made to continue as lovers or friends.
That crossroads was Blake.
And she didn’t know which way to go.
Thirty Three
It was Chris’s turn to go to the bar, so he shouldered his way through the thick crowd and flagged the bartender down.
As he waited for his order, a girl stepped up to the bar next to him. She was gorgeous. Probably Philipino, judging by her dark skin, jet black hair, and exotic eyes. The low cut dress she wore clung to her narrow but shapely hips, the skirt stopping well shy of her knees.
When she looked at him, she didn’t accuse him of staring. If anything, her smile told him he was welcome to keep looking.
"What’s your name?" he asked over the blaring music.
"Tina," she said. "Yours?"
"Chris."
They exchanged smiles, but the conversation didn’t go any further. She raised one thin eyebrow, as if waiting for him to ask the inevitable question. His eyes flicked towards the dance floor, then to the table where his friends waited.
Kat wasn’t looking at him, but he was sure looking at her, and guilt gnawed at him. He wanted to ask Tina to dance, but it just didn’t seem right with Kat so close by.
When the bartender brought his drinks, he paid, gave Tina one last smile, and headed back into the crowd. God, she’s hot. What I wouldn’t do for just one dance. One. Dance.
The Next Move Page 17
