Barely Breathing(49)

“Is she leaving for the night?” I asked Cori.

“Mmm-hmm. Sleepover at her friend’s house.” She dried off her hands and turned around, resting her hands against the counter and pushing her chest out. “Want a beer?”

“Nah, I’m good. I need to head into work pretty quick. Saturday nights are crazy for us.”

I rinsed the last dish and set it in the strainer. Cori passed me the towel in her hands, her eyes locked on mine.

“Are you any good with plumbing?” she asked. “I’ve got a dripping sink in the bathroom. If not, that’s okay, I just thought you might be able to save me a hundred bucks on a plumber.”

I knew a thing or two about plumbing, but I was not crawling under her f*cking sink. Brooklyn was gone and I didn’t want to be here alone with Cori.

“I’m shit with plumbing,” I said. “But I can send a plumber over and cover the bill.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She smiled up at me. “Why don’t we sit down and have a drink?”

Her hand darted out and she was rubbing my crotch before I even saw it coming.

“Whoa,” I said, shifting my hips until her hand fell away.

“We’re all alone now.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“Don’t act shy, Kane. I know you. We f*cked in a crowded club once.”

I sighed deeply. “That was ten years ago, Cori.”

“It was the best sex I’ve ever had. And I didn’t want things to end with us. I still feel something, don’t you?”

“I feel . . . really grateful that you’ve done such a great job with Brooklyn.”

She edged closer, wrapping her hand around my dick and licking her lips. “You know you want it, too. I’ve still got my * shaved and my clit ring in. Remember how much you liked that?”

“Cori, don’t.”

She smiled triumphantly. “You’re getting hard. Let’s go into my bedroom.”

I took a step back. “We can’t do that, no.”

“We can. Come on. My * is so wet for you, Kane.”

I held my breath, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t Cori’s * I was thinking of right now, but Viv’s. Her tight * with soft, dark trimmed hair was the only one I fantasized about these days. But one wrong move with Cori and I wouldn’t get to see Brooklyn as much.

“I’m seeing someone,” I reminded her.

“It can be our little secret.” She laid a palm on my chest. “I’m lonely, Kane. Working and being a single mom doesn’t leave me any time for dating.”

“Like I said, I can help with Brooklyn. You know, give you some time to yourself. You sure as hell deserve it.”

Her smile was sad. “I just thought . . . who better than you? We never got to see if we could’ve had something long-term before.”

“I f*cked everything up. I know that.”

Cori moved her hand up my chest to my shoulder. “But now . . . maybe we can get a second chance.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she silenced me with a finger on my lips. “Just think about it. Please. I don’t know how long you’ve been seeing this woman, but you and I have something more important than whatever you have with her. Brook could finally have a chance at a family with both her parents.”

“I have to go,” I said, taking another step back.

She pouted at me and I went straight to the living room and out the front door. I’d done nothing wrong, but I still felt wracked with guilt as I started my car and drove home.

Viv. Viv. Viv.

She was all I could think of. I didn’t call her my girlfriend or significant other or any of that shit, but in my heart that was what she was. We didn’t need to have a talk about whether we were seeing other people, because the force that pulled us together left no room for doubt.

Cori had grabbed my cock and propositioned me. It was something I should tell Viv. But if I did, she wouldn’t want me coming over to see Brooklyn anymore. I couldn’t stomach the thought of my daughter thinking I didn’t want to see her. Not ever again.

I’d never cheat on Viv. Wouldn’t even consider it. She was mine, which meant I was hers. Being true to her was all that really mattered. I didn’t want to tell her something that would only upset her.



Viv

It was six-thirty-two PM when Henley finally texted me back. I picked up the phone from the bed, where I was watching a movie, and glared at the screen.

Henley: Have dinner with me?

Me: As long as I can bring a pen and you’ll sign the papers.

Henley: As you wish. I’ll send a car to pick u up.

I didn’t change out of my jeans and t-shirt. Instead I slipped into my shoes, grabbed my bag which had the papers in it and went downstairs to wait for my ride.

A driver in a black SUV picked me up and drove me to an upscale restaurant. I was led to an outer courtyard decorated with fountains and potted plants, where Henley waited alone at a table. Secluded by walls made of climbing greenery, the location was private and quiet. Perfect for signing divorce papers.

“Mr. Cartwright,” I said crisply.

“Miss Marceau.” His cocky grin matched my expectations of him. He was attractive in a pretty way: smooth and polished with a lean, muscled frame and a headful of light brown hair with a lock falling across his forehead.