Catarina

“You promised!” I remind Barrett as he peppers kisses down my neck. We’re on his sofa, where he manuevered me before promptly sealing his lips over mine.

“I lied.”

I reroute his head, my hands on either side of his face. I tighten my hold squishing his cheeks and put a smacking kiss on the center of his lips. “It’d mean so much to me.”

He expels a put-upon sigh and pulls my hands away, kissing each palm. “Fine. But I’m doing it with a boner.” He gestures to his pants. “And this thing isn’t going away anytime soon.”

“I vow to take good care of it after.” I cross my heart with a finger.

His eyes sear right through my clothes. “Now it’s not going away ever.”

We left Dax and Becca and came back to Barrett’s place like we’d planned. He’s been staying with me lately so I decided to give him a break and let him be in his own space tonight. Neither of us are interested in sleeping alone any longer. I did on Tuesday and it sucked.

He clears his throat and I grab a pillow from the couch and curl up with it. Then he opens his mouth and sings a Michael Bublé song as I melt into a puddle of longing.

He sings to me without theatrics, just the sweet brush of his fingers as he moves my hair away from my eyes during the chorus. When he finishes serenading me with that golden voice, he offers a simple, “That’s it.”

“You’re incredibly talented. Why the football aspirations? You should start a band.”

“Had a band,” he says. “We weren’t that good.”

“You and Burke sounded good to me.”

“No offense, but you’re a journalist, not a record producer. That’s like me saying I decided to be a writer because I wrote a few columns.”

“You could.”

“No, thanks. Some struggles are fun—like training and practicing nonstop for a big game. Other struggles are not. Like willing your brain to read words the right way instead of shaking up the letters like a game of Boggle.”

“I love Boggle.”

“You would.”

He halts our banter by kissing me. My eyes sink shut and aren’t quick about reopening.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m okay.”

“Go to bed, Kitty Cat.”

“But your boner.” I push my pouting bottom lip forward. “I promised.”

His laugh shakes his shoulders. He rubs one hand over my bare thigh, then tugs the edge of my shorts.

“It’s been a long day. Grab some Zs and I’ll join you in a few.”

“But—”

“We can turn each other inside out in the morning. You’re not going anywhere except to my bed.”

Isn’t that the truth? I don’t want to be anywhere but Barrett’s bed. Or my bed if he’s in it. Or work where he’s across the office from me.

“As someone who recently bombed in the relationship department, it’s hard to believe I’d enter another one this soon.”

“Preaching to the choir, honey,” he agrees.

“Dax said you were a good boyfriend. How does he know? Did you used to date him or something?” That earns me a smile.

“He knew I delivered my share of flowers and candy to Beth. Talked my way back into her life a number of times. We always found our way back out. I’m not blameless. I did a lot of dumb shit.”

“I can’t imagine you doing anything shortsighted, Fox.”

“Don’t sass me or you’ll earn a slap on that firm ass.” Barrett’s eyebrows lift when my jaw drops. “Ever get kinky in the bedroom, Kitty Cat? A little slap and tickle?”

I’m sure my cheeks are turning pink. My face feels warm. “North wasn’t much of a slap-and-tickle kind of guy.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing you’re not that kind of girl, either.”

I curl my fingers into the pillow against my chest. “Is that…what you want?”

“I want you,” he says. “Whatever involves you. That’s what I want.”

He graces my lips with another kiss, then against them whispers. “I’ll wake you in the morning. You’ll like how I do it. Go to bed.”

I do.

With my head full of unsortable thoughts.

Barrett

I stroke my fingers down Catarina’s body and she rolls to her back, eyes still shut. Sleep has a tight hold on to her.

“Kitty Cat,” I whisper.

“Mmph,” is all I get in return.

It’s early. The birds are up. The sun isn’t, but I promised to wake her. Like I kept my promise to sing to her, I’m keeping this one as well.

I lift the sheet and take off her underwear. She slides her long legs together, tempting me to take my time at her knees again. But I have something better in mind.

I lift her T-shirt, kiss the tip of each nipple, and meet her eyes when she opens them.

“Hi,” she croaks in a sleep-warmed voice.

“Wake and shake, honey.”

“What?”

“I’m going to give you an orgasm or three. I’ll know you’re done when you’re shaking.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Shirt off. You’re on nipple duty. I’ll be busy down here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I like that.” I toss her legs over my shoulders and settle in. Licking, teasing, suckling. She tugs her nipples and then moves her hands to my head, guiding me to the perfect spot.

We don’t make it to three.

On her second orgasm, her legs are shaking, her body writhing, her lips begging me to stop.

I reach for the nightstand and a condom, holding it up in an unasked question.

She snatches it, tears open the packet and hands it back.

“That’s not a yes. That’s a hell yes,” I point out.

“Hell yes. Hurry.”

Nothing’s more beautiful than Catarina post-orgasm. Her long lashes draped over her cheeks, her face rosy, her lips swollen and parted. Her nipples are standing on end and as I slide into her warmth, I take the time to make love to one of those with my mouth.

She comes instantly.

I don’t lag far behind—I’ve been wanting this girl since the wee hours and only acted on it just now.

Once we’ve each taken our fair share, I collapse next to her, breathing heavily for a few before winding down. I kiss her breasts and then her face.

I’m overwhelmed by her. By the potential we have. Which is probably why I ask, “Still falling, Kitty Cat?”

She offers a half smile. “Still wrecked, Fox?”

“Gone, honey,” I admit without saying The Words. “Gone.”

She smiles.

“Coffee?” I ask as I head to the bathroom. “I can make French toast.”

“Both, please.” She rolls to her side, looking like my fantasy come true. Like a woman I’d like to have around for more than a few sweaty nights and rushed mornings. Like a woman I’d like to have around on a permanent basis.

Provided we make it that far. Not to be a Debbie Downer but the odds aren’t in my favor.

“Oh! The article!” Her face lights up and she scrabbles out of bed.

“No work today.” I step in front of her and hold out an arm. She pushes against me but I don’t let her pass. I tuck her into my chest and kiss her instead. “Shower. Coffee. Spend the day with me.”

“Don’t you at least want to check for likes or comments?”

“No. And neither are you. I hid your phone.”

“Barrett!”

I smooth the crease between her dark eyebrows. “You work too hard. Today I want you to myself.”

“I didn’t work yesterday.”

“You checked your email on your phone. Several times.”

She twists her lips guiltily.

“Give me a day, Kitty Cat. No work. No screen time. Just you and me and everything revolving around us. You can check on work at work Monday morning. And I mean at work. No lying in bed and scrolling through your phone. You can have it before you leave.

“Fine.” An eye roll pairs with the slump of her shoulders.

“Your gratitude wore off fast. What happened to those thank-yous after you nearly brought the roof down a few minutes ago?”

“There is such a thing as too much confidence, Fox.” She hoists an eyebrow, unhappy that she’s not getting her way.

“Yeah. There is.” I slap her ass, a firm spanking that pops her eyes wide. “Stick with me, honey.”

Please, I add in my head.

Catarina

We spent the morning sipping coffee and nibbling on sugary donuts from a local bakery. Barrett insisted on running out to pick them up. They were decadent and delicious. I’m typically a lot more careful about my breakfast choices.

Then again I’ve been doing a lot of things I don’t typically do. Like dating a former NFL player. Sleeping at his house. All but admitting I’m falling in love with him way too hard and way too fast.

Dax had a point when he said Barrett was a good boyfriend. All evidence points to yes. Maybe some relationships are doomed from the start. Maybe Barrett and Beth were destined to end up apart, yet kept returning to the familiar. I won’t deny that after North left, I had a lonely night or two where I was tempted to call him and try to make it work. I wonder if he’s seeing someone or if he’s okay. Other than a random text last week that stated he thought it best “we weren’t friends” I haven’t heard from him. Luckily for me, I had Barrett. I was too preoccupied with work and with him as an extension of my work to give North any further consideration.

Barrett and I crashed from our donut high and napped snuggled against each other on the sofa. When it came time for dinner, he talked me into pizza. I just finished my third slice.

“Ugh, are you trying to make me fat?”

“Gimme a break, Kitty Cat.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Are you trying to raise my cholesterol?”

“I’m doing what I always do.” He grabs another piece of pizza for himself and takes a huge bite, commenting around it. “I’m influencing you to be more like me.”

This brings forth a belly laugh from me. “So, you want to date a bad-girl journalist?”

“I want to acclimate you to being with me so that you won’t be tempted by upper-crust country club boys.”

There’s enough sincerity in his tone that I believe him. “You think I would leave you for a ‘country club boy’?”

“You were dating one when I met you.” He shrugs.

“It doesn’t mean I’d leave you for one now.”

He wipes his fingers on a napkin before balling it into a wad in his fist. “We’re pretty new.”

“Every relationship starts out new. I’m game if you are.”

“Depends,” he says as he reaches for another slice. “On how good the sex is in a few months.”

I punch him playfully in the arm and he leans over and gives me a kiss, tossing his pizza aside. With his arms around me it’s easy not to worry about the future. As a chronic worrier, embracing his way of life is refreshing.

“Don’t go home,” he tells me.

“I have to work in the morning.”

“Yeah, and I saw you hang a dress in my closet.”

“That’s a sundress for wearing out to a park or a summer concert.”

“And Mia would kick you out of the office for wearing it tomorrow?” I say nothing and he knows he has me. “Live on the edge with me tonight. You’re already here. I don’t want you to go.”

With an invitation like that, there’s only one response. “All right. I’ll stay.”