“I’m heading out,” Catherine called over her shoulder.
Instantly, her father’s head peeked out of the living room. “To where?”
“Well, with Liliana.”
Her cousin had her license now.
Catherine was taking full advantage of that.
“Yes, but to where, Catherine.”
Her first instinct was to lie, if only because she didn’t want to answer the questions that would likely follow if she told the truth. She ended up telling the truth.
“We’re going to stop at Grandmamma and Grandpapa’s to visit, and then she’s going to drop me off at a friend’s while she goes to pick up Cella from her friend’s.”
At least, that’s what Liliana said she was going to do.
“What friend are you visiting?” Dante asked. “And is she going to bring you back, or do I need to send a car?”
“She’s going to bring me back.”
Her father cocked an eyebrow. “You forgot something.”
Yeah, shit.
She should have known better than to try to slip that one past Dante Marcello.
“Which friend, Catherine?”
“Cross Donati,” she said.
Instantly, her father stepped out of the entryway to stand at his full height in the hallway. “As in, the same Cross you were seeing a while back?”
“That was quite a while back, but yes, same guy.”
“How long have you been seeing him again?” he asked.
Catherine rolled her eyes. “We’re not really seeing each other or whatever you want to call it. We’re just … hanging out sometimes. Like friends do.”
That was true, all of it. She didn’t really know what she and Cross were, but at the moment, it didn’t matter.
“How long?”
“Like a week?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Dante!”
Her father looked to the side, his gaze narrowing. “What, Catrina?”
“Dial it back, bello.”
“I’m not even—”
“If that was Michel standing there, Dante, you would have said nothing. Dial it back right now,” Catrina snapped from inside the room. “If you deny what I just said, you are not going to like what I do.”
Catherine’s eyes widened, and she wouldn’t look at her father for fear of grinning.
“Cat, it’s not even the same thing,” Dante said, walking into the room out of Catherine’s sight. “She’s only fifteen, and I’m not asking something unreasonable here.”
“Michel is in the library, Dante. I will go get that boy, and we will ask him what you did at that same age when he had girlfriends or … God, he didn’t even date. He just messed around, and you barely said a word.”
“But—”
“Not one word, Dante!”
“Catrina,” her father growled.
A car horn honked outside.
Catherine’s impatience picked up, so she walked down to let her father know she was leaving. She found her mother and father in a stare-down. Dante looked fit to kill, and Catrina seemed calm and cool with her diamond incrusted fingernails resting at her hip. This was almost how every single one of her parents arguments went down over the years.
Catrina almost always won, too.
Almost always.
“Try me,” Catrina murmured.
“It’s not the same, Cat. Jesus.”
“It absolutely is, bello. You will not demand a different behavior from her simply because she is a girl. She is doing nothing wrong, not by wanting to see someone, not right now. Let her do as she wants, just like you did for Michel.”
“I can ask questions, can’t I?”
“Not if you’re going to pose them in such a way that suggests she has to conduct herself how you, or the rest of the male population deem acceptable for her gender,” Catrina replied with a sweet smile.
Oh, no.
Catherine knew when her mother’s sweet smile came out, bad things were sure to follow. Catrina only ever smiled like that when she was ready to slash someone’s throat.
“The day you’re willing to tell Michel whatever it is you’re considering telling Catherine about dating, sex, or private and public conduct, is the day I’ll allow you this,” her mother added, “and not one second before, Dante. Mark my fucking words, not one second before.”
“Liliana is waiting, Daddy,” Catherine said quietly.
Dante didn’t turn around as he replied, “Go, Catherine. But—”
“Dante.”
“You can call us anytime,” Dante said, still looking at her mother, “for anything, Catherine.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Catrina’s gaze darted over her husband’s shoulder to Catherine. “Have fun, reginella.”
“Tell Cross we say hello,” Dante added.
Probably not.
“It’s Catherine, right?”
Catherine nodded. She had never actually had a conversation with Cross’s mother before, and the woman seemed quiet. Unlike Catherine’s own mother.
“Did your father send someone with you?” Emma asked.
“He didn’t say, but someone probably followed behind my cousin,” Catherine admitted.
“Ah, I see.” Emma smiled widely. “Well, I’m heading out with Camilla, but if you need anything, I’m sure Cross can find it for you.”
“Wait, you’re not staying?”
Emma’s brow lifted. “Do I need to?”
“Pretty sure my dad wouldn’t leave me alone in the house with a boy.”
“Maybe not,” Emma said, “but my boy is not his, and Cross knows how to properly behave with girls. I trust him to act appropriately, no matter what he chooses to do, especially where girls are concerned. So yes, I don’t mind leaving him alone, or you with him.”
“Oh.”
“He’s upstairs, by the way.”
With that, Catherine was dismissed. She quickly made her way upstairs, and found Cross’s bedroom easily enough.
“I just met your mom downstairs,” Catherine said, shrugging her coat off and sitting on the edge of Cross’s bed. “She’s really nice.”
“Ma’s an angel,” Cross replied, his voice muffled slightly behind the bathroom door.
She smiled.
“Cal can be kind of ass, though,” he added.
“Why?”
“Never gets off my ass lately.”
“That’s his job, isn’t it? And your mom left, too.”
“She’s got an art thing with my sister.”
The bathroom door opened. Cross strolled out with damp hair, and only a towel slung around his hips. Catherine had not been expecting that, never mind how incredibly hard it was not to stare at him as he crossed the bedroom.
She failed at the not staring bit.
She stared hard.
Catherine was very aware that Cross was in shape, and quite fit. She knew he jogged, which probably helped with his leanness and tone. He played football, and practiced several days a week. He also played soccer, when that season rolled around.
She had never actually seen this much of Cross without clothing on.
What a sight it was.
At least six feet tall already, fit like a boxer and toned like a runner, with a six pack of abs and a perfectly shaped V leading down to his groin. He was gorgeous.
Catherine felt her throat tighten up, not to mention the warmth spreading through her bloodstream. Cross didn’t seem to have any idea about her distraction with staring at him. That, or he didn’t mind.
“You don’t … take clothes in with you or something when you shower?” she asked.
Cross looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. “Why? It’s my room.”
“Yeah, but I was coming over.”
“And now you’re here. Chill, I’m getting dressed.”
Not fast enough for me to catch my breath again.
Cross disappeared back into the bathroom with his clothes in hand. He appeared a couple of minutes later dressed in jeans, a faded band Tee, and wearing a smug grin. “See, all dressed.”
Catherine frowned. “Hmm.”
“What?”
His genuine confusion was almost cute.
“You looked better without the clothes,” she admitted.
Catherine had no idea where her sudden braveness came from, but there it was. Somehow, she managed not to turn three different shades of red after she said it, too. She didn’t have the first clue how, though.
Cross’s confusion melted into a grin.
A very sexy grin.
That only made Catherine’s knotted, twisting insides turn even worse.
But damn, it was still pretty good.
Cross tugged on a strand of Catherine’s hair as he passed her by. “I would say the same for you, but I can’t; I don’t know.”
Catherine stiffened.
He didn’t miss it.
“What?” he asked quietly, coming back to stand in front of her.
Catherine shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Nothing.”
“You know I don’t expect shit, right? Not from you like that, if you don’t want to. I didn’t message you to come over today to fuck or mess around. I wanted you to come over because I’ve actually got a day to hang out, as long as I do stay at the house.”
“But …”
Cross dropped down into a crouch. His hands found Catherine’s thighs over her jeans. “But, what?”
“But don’t you want to?”
“Sure,” he said like it was nothing, “but only when you do. Only when you ask to.”
“Funny, any other guy seems to think they can just say what they want, and they’ll get it.”
“Guys are dicks.”
“You’re a guy,” she said.
“Yeah, but I’m not an animal, either.”
“I don’t get it.”
Cross stood a bit, his hands crawling up Catherine’s sides as he leaned over her until she was lying back on the bed. Her breath caught hard in her chest as his fingertips grazed the bit of exposed skin on her midsection where her shirt had ridden up.
“I mean, I’m not a dog or something,” Cross said, still letting his fingers explore the expanse of her stomach and sides. His knee pressed in between her thighs, and his face came close enough to hers for Catherine to see the bit of stubble forming on his jaw. “It means, when a guy does something unacceptable, it’s almost always excused. It’s like he can’t control himself or whatever, like something she did made him uncontrollable. That’s bullshit. Girls don’t make guys turn into animals—we don’t suddenly turn rabid because we get a taste of pussy, our cock gets hard, and then she decides to back out. Anyone who says differently is a fucking liar.”
With that, Cross pushed back up off the bed, away from Catherine, and winked.
“Come back down here,” Catherine urged.
Cross laughed. “I don’t—”
“I liked you there; come back here.”
He didn’t need to be told a third time. Only this time, she learned she enjoyed his weight on top of hers, and the way his hands grabbed her bare waist tightly. She found she liked how her muscles clenched and the warmth in her blood became hotter as his groin ground into her center. How it felt even better when her legs locked around his waist to keep him closer. There was no distance between them. She made sure to close it, kissing him until her lips felt numb, and she tasted of him.
Cross’s teeth nipped into her bottom lip before his lips pressed down over and over again to her jaw, throat, and across her collarbones. Catherine didn’t like being pawed over because that’s all guys seemed to want to do. Get their hands up her clothes, to push and prod without any real knowledge about what they were doing or any intention to make it feel good for her.
It hadn’t ever been about her.
Until now.
Cross’s hands pushed her shirt up higher, until it rested under her breasts. His thumbs swept under that same spot, over and over until she was squirming and swallowing the growing thickness in her throat. His mouth moved from her throat to her stomach. His tongue striking out against her naval at the sight of the barbell piercing he found there.
Catherine sucked in a sharp breath, because damn, she kept forgetting to breathe.
“Feel good?” he asked, his tone low and rough.
“So good.”
“Yeah, babe, I can hear that.” Cross’s lips grazed lower, but his hands stayed high. “We can st—”
Catherine’s legs tightened around Cross’s body. “Don’t you dare.”
Cross’s laugh came from somewhere deeper, making it sound lovely to Catherine’s ears. “What do you want, Catherine?”
“To keep feeling good.”
“All right. Question.”
“What?”
“Has anyone ever made you come before?”
“No. I don’t think they knew how.”
Cross made a noise under his breath that Catherine couldn’t decipher. “That’s a damn shame, but I don’t mind being the first. Have you ever come at all?”
That time, Catherine didn’t answer with words, she only nodded. She knew how to get herself off, sure, but she wasn’t about to explain it. He grinned at her response.
“Good, then you know what’s going to happen, but this’ll be better because it’s someone else doing it.”
“A bit cocky, aren’t you?”
“Why do I have to keep explaining to people that it’s arrogance? It’s not the same thing.”
“It’s literally a synonym of cockiness, Cross.”
“Cocky people boast. Arrogant people don’t have to.”
“Do you really want to argue about this with me right now?”
“Do you want me to keep going here or not?”
“Fine, you’re arrogant. You’re so fucking arrogant it’s disgusting, Cross.”
“And don’t forget it.”
“Now, what are you planning on doing?” she asked.
Cross flashed his white teeth in a smile. “I’m going to get these pants off you, pull your panties down, put your legs over my shoulders, and eat you until you scream. And it’s going to feel great.”
Catherine’s cheeks heated. “Never done that.”
“We don’t have—”
“I think we do,” she interrupted quickly, surprised at how high her voice sounded.
She really thought they should because it sounded wonderful. She also kind of wanted to put his arrogance to the test.
Cross chuckled as he unsnapped the button on her skinny jeans, and tugged the zipper down. “You good?”
“I promise to tell you if I’m not.”
“You better.”
Catherine lifted up from the bed as Cross pulled her jeans down her legs. She couldn’t help but shiver when he kissed the insides of her knees as the pants hit the floor. She was almost surprised at the shocks that seemed to jump across her skin when Cross’s fingers curled into the sides of her pink lace panties. Except she wasn’t—it was Cross, after all, and there was just something about him that made Catherine react. If not her heart, then her mind, and if not her mind, then her body.
It. Never. Failed.
She let out a slow breath and bit her bottom lip when he tugged the panties down over her hips. Every insecurity she could possibly feel came bubbling up in that moment in a giant rush of embarrassment.
“You’re shaking,” Cross murmured.
“Nervous.”
Of course, she was nervous.
Catherine had never been spread out, entirely open to someone before. She had never allowed someone to touch her—taste her—the way Cross was about to. She didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know what he expected, for that matter.
“Catherine.”
She propped up on her elbows a bit to see him better. “Yeah?”
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Kind of hard, Cross.”
He cocked a brow. “You know you’re perfect, right? You’re damn beautiful, Catherine. And this isn’t even about me, it’s all about you feeling really, really good. That’s all you need to worry about. Everything else is background noise I get to enjoy.”
“That’s … an interesting way to put it.”
“It’s the truth. Are you good, or no?”
“Better,” she admitted.
“Close your eyes and see stars, or watch me get you off, it’s up to you. Just don’t worry about anything else, okay?”
Her nod was all the reply he apparently needed.
Catherine hadn’t been sure what to expect, but that first touch of the rough side of his tongue tunneling against her most sensitive spot was not it. She hadn’t realized how intense that feeling would be, how it would make her back arch off the bed, or her hands fly out to find something—anything—to hold onto.
Jesus, and oh, my God, and shit, shit, shit.
She had not realized the sounds that would crawl out of her throat, how good it would feel when she lifted her lower half into his face to get more, or how it would feel as though she couldn’t catch her breath.
Catherine fisted the blankets on the bed with one hand, and her other found purchase in Cross’s hair. She tried not to pull, not to tug or push, but it was hard because he was right …
“There,” Catherine gasped, “there, Cross ...”
The whine that tore out of her throat sounded almost cattish. Her eyes squeezed shut, and all she could do was feel. His hand slipping up under her bralette, and his thumb stroking the curve of her breast. His other hand dipping between her thighs, and a finger, then two, pressing deep and making her realize she was so very wet.
Had she not felt so entirely good—had she not been lost to the sensations rushing through—she might have been embarrassed, but nothing else mattered.
Not in that moment.
His wicked tongue left her long enough for him to say, “Come on, then, do it, come.”
And he was right back again. Harder strokes. Deeper fingers. Her skin felt like fire racing under the surface, and that familiar tightening began in her stomach. The world tilted on its axis in that moment, making Catherine think she was off-balance in every way. Her hands left the bedsheets and Cross’s hair, instead finding his shoulders, then his neck, and scoring lines over his exposed skin when she tried to right her mind and body back to center.
Cross had been right.
It was better when someone else made her come.
It was better when it was him.
Catherine thought it took far too long for her to calm after the bliss had stopped waging war in her body, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She couldn’t find the embarrassment she thought she might feel, either, not with Cross watching from between her thighs, and his mouth still wet from her.
“I’m not sure friends do this,” Catherine mumbled into the palm of her hand.
Cross’s tongue lapped at her inner thigh before he asked, “Hmm?”
“I told my dad we were friends. I don’t think friends do things like this, is all.”
“The best kind of friends do,” he said.
Maybe.
“I’m calling you Catty, from now on,” Cross added.
“What, why?”
He tipped his head to the side, making Catherine take in the row of scratches she had left on his neck. That looked like it hurt, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Don’t you dare call me—”
“Too late, Catty.”
She was far too out of it in her mind to argue with him. “That is … quite a talent.”
“That’s not a talent. It’s a goddamn skill.”
Catherine nodded, still breathless and trembling. “And when exactly can I get you to use that skill again?”
Cross smirked, and his dark eyes screamed sin and fun; his cheek rested against her inner thigh and he said, “All you have to do is ask, babe. I like doing anything that gets you off because it gets me off.”
“What if I asked right now?”
He was already back between her thighs before she could get her question entirely out. She couldn’t breathe again.
Catherine really didn’t mind.
“So, are you fucking Cross Donati now?”
Catherine could have pretended like she didn’t hear the question from Dina Lavigne, given she had earbuds in her ears, but the girl’s voice just grated on her nerves like nothing else. Tugging out one earbud, Catherine looked up from her books on the cafeteria table and found it wasn’t only Dina standing there. It was also half of her little posse.
Joy.
“I’m sorry?” Catherine asked.
She was giving the girl a single chance to ask her a different question, and they could both pretend like the first one hadn’t happened.
Catherine hoped for too much.
“Cross. Are you the new pussy of the month he’s moved on to, or …?”
Her little group of friends snickered amongst one another.
Catherine was suddenly glad she stuck to her own group of friends.
Dina raised an eyebrow, as though she were daring Catherine to confirm what she was asking. “I mean, three weeks ago, people saw you two leaving a party together. Everybody knows he hurt Derik over you. I was just curious.”
“Why?”
And why is it any of your business?
“Because it’s kind of hard to tell,” Dina said, looking as though she were more interested in her manicure than their current conversation. “Sometimes he talks to you, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he’s around you, sometimes he isn’t. Are you just, like, good enough to fuck but not for anything else? Because shit, Derik said you wouldn’t even put out. I wondered, that’s all.”
“Oh, and,” Dina added, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “Jules wants to know because she’s interested in him, you know.”
Jealousy burned hot through Catherine’s gut.
She pushed the feeling down.
Or, tried.
It didn’t really work.
Catherine’s gaze snapped to the girl Dina mentioned, but she was another one that seemed more interested in staring anywhere but at her.
“Well?” Dina asked when Catherine stayed quiet.
By the time Catherine was ready to respond, she simply stood up and packed away her books into a messenger bag. She slung the bag over her shoulder, done with this whole show. Dina was only bothering her because she could. The girl was pissed off that she lost her status as Cross’s whatever, and because Catherine seemed like an easy target.
Catherine was not going to stand around and take the hits because of it.
“Ask Cross,” Catherine said, shrugging. “If you really want to know, ask him.”
She let that be good enough, though there was a whole lot more she wanted to say. There was a whole lot more she could say.
It wouldn’t do her any good, though.
Problem was, even as Catherine walked away, the jealousy still burned and it only pissed her off more. Truth was, she didn’t know what she and Cross actually were. Dina had been right—sometimes it might look like they were something, and other times, it probably didn’t look like that at all.
She could keep Cross on a text message conversation for hours, but only got a smile as he passed her in the hallways some days.
To Catherine, that meant a lot of things.
Mostly that they weren’t dating, a couple, or anything else. It hadn’t exactly bothered Catherine up until that moment when someone else felt the need to bring it up.
Speak of a dark-eyed devil, and he shall appear.
Cross came around the corner just as Catherine stopped at her locker. She opened the locker with a bit more force than she usually would, and didn’t even bother to look at Cross as he passed with his friends.
Except … he didn’t pass.
She felt his presence behind her, and then two of his fingers grazed the back of her inner wrist. “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me.” Catherine shoved her books into the locker, and pulled out the ones she needed for her next class. “Or better yet, go talk to Dina and her band of merry bitches. They’ve got lots of questions to ask today.”
Cross let out a heavy exhale. “Catty—”
Catherine might not have reacted so strongly had he not used that damn nickname and made her think why he gave it to her.
She spun on her heel, letting her bag fall to the floor with a thud. “Are you seeing other girls at all? Anyone, Cross. Are you?”
“What?”
“My question was not difficult to understand. You could try to answer it.”
His handsome features turned as still as stone, and his gaze locked on hers. “Why are you asking that to begin with?”
“Because I kind of want to know. Because I have no idea what we’re doing, or what we are. Because I asked, and you could have enough decency to let me know. Because if you are, then I get a choice in what I want to do or not do where you’re concerned.”
“Hey, relax.”
“Because I don’t want to be one of many you get on your knees for,” Catherine whispered harshly. “That’s why, so now you can answer. Go for it.”
Students blew by them in the hallway. A couple of his friends stood a few feet back, waiting for him to finish his conversation.
Cross didn’t move a muscle. “Shit, all you have to do is ask, Catherine. About whatever—us, females, or anything. I can’t answer fuck all when you don’t open your mouth to let me know a question is rattling around in your head.”
Well, then …
“I did ask. Now. Answer.”
“Come with me for a second,” he said.
Catherine barely had time to close her locker and grab her bag, before Cross’s hand grasped tightly to her wrist, and she was following behind him in the hallway. She wasn’t even sure if his friends had followed them or not, but before she could check, he pulled her into a classroom and kicked the door closed.
She tugged her wrist out of his grasp. “What the hell, Cross?”
“If you’ve got shit to ask, come to me. If you want something, come to me.”
“I did.”
“Yeah, after someone pissed you off, Catherine. I don’t have time for petty girls; I got enough of that elsewhere, but thanks. The last thing I’m ever going to waste my time on is someone who makes a fucking show of themselves or me. I’m just not going to do it.”
Catherine blinked, hurt. “I’m—”
“Not other girls, right? Not like them, yeah?” Cross shrugged. “Then try not to let the fact they don’t know about us, or that they’ve got their own issues to deal with put you into some kind of fit with me.”
“Don’t turn this into something else,” Catherine muttered, refusing to meet his gaze. It was never good for her when she stared at Cross for too long—she went stupid in her head and heart. She needed to think. “What are we even doing? I don’t even know what we’re doing, or what you’re doing, and that’s not fair.”
Wordlessly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over. “Here.”
Catherine stared at the device, not reaching for it. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Forty-Seven, Ninety-Two, that’s the passcode. Have a look, Catty.”
“You want me to look through your phone?”
“No, you do. But I don’t give a shit either way. Have at it.” Cross pushed the phone into her hand, forcing her to take it. “I’m not ever going to act like half of the other idiots at this goddamn school, so I can’t help if I don’t fit what they consider to be a boyfriend. I’m not going to be all over you or acting like a fool so that everyone else knows what’s up with me and you. It isn’t their business to begin with, or for them to talk about when my back is turned.”
Cross shrugged, adding, “I wasn’t raised to behave that way with women, anyway, like you’re some trophy I won to make someone else jealous of what I have. That’s ridiculous. I took enough shit from Dina over this kind of thing, about making a scene and being some kind of spectacle for people to watch. I’m not a reality show turned on live—that’s never going to happen. I am not going to do it with you, or any other female. It’s not because you’re not worth it. It’s because you’re worth more than that kind of garbage.”
Catherine sucked in a sharp breath, whispering, “Okay.”
“I’m not even with you like I was with her, for what that’s worth,” he said quieter. “I was with her for one thing, and she knew what that was. If that’s all I wanted from you, too, the last thing you would even get is a conversation like this one right here. She wanted something different, and now she’s pissed she’s not getting that or anything. Don’t mind her, she doesn’t matter. If you want a label, then speak the hell up and let me know. I’m not much for that nonsense, but shit, whatever you need, Catherine. I mean, if that label is going to make a difference to how you and I deal with this sort of shit in the future, then stick it on. All right?”
Catherine didn’t get the chance to reply.
Cross pulled open the classroom door, and passed her by to leave. “Keep the stupid phone, take all the time you need with it, but I can tell you what you’re going to find, babe. Fuck all.”
The door slammed behind him hard enough for the glass window to rattle. Catherine didn’t move an inch, and held tighter to the phone in her hand. She stared at the device for a long time, repeating the passcode to herself again and again.
She could look.
She could save herself a hell of a lot of trouble and heartache, especially if she found messages or something in the phone from other girls that said Cross was seeing other people. She could also look and finally get a bit of peace that she was the only person he was seeing in any sort of way.
Catherine chose to do something else. Leaving the classroom, she resituated her bag over her shoulder and headed back down the hallway and around the corner. She found Cross leaning against her locker, in full conversation with his friends he had left behind. He didn’t stop his chat, but his gaze skipped over her, and he stepped to the side a little to let her in to her locker.
She handed his phone back over and opened her locker up just to make sure she hadn’t forgotten something the last time.
His arm came up to hug her around the neck; his hand tangled into her hair, his fingers weaving through the strands as he pulled her close enough to kiss the side of her temple. It was one of the few times he had ever kissed her at school while they attended the upper Academy together—the only time he had kissed her with someone close enough to see.
She quickly realized that even as he was doing something that he said he didn’t like to do, or wouldn’t do at all, he was doing it in a way that others did not. A sweeter way, a way that was far more to Cross’s personality and even hers. He held her there just like that with his fingers in her hair and her entire side pressed against him until her eyelids fluttered closed and the lingering tension released.
Cross must have felt it as he smiled against her skin. His voice was quiet when he spoke; too low for someone else nearby to hear his words. “You good?”
“I am now.” Catherine swallowed hard. “I didn’t look in your phone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How?”
“Because you didn’t really need to, babe. I think you already knew that, too.”