Tangled (The Tangled Series)(47)

“Kate…Kate…Kate…Kate.”

It’s miraculous.

After several moments, our bodies still. The only sounds in the room are our rapid breaths and pounding heartbeats.

Then Kate whispers, “Drew? Are you all right?” I lift my head and find her beautiful eyes looking at me with concern. Her hand cups my cheek gently. “You’re shaking.”

Have you ever tried to take a picture of something really far away? And you look through the lens and the whole scene is a blurry blob? So you mess with the focus; you zoom in and out. And then the camera whirls and seconds later—boom—instant clarity.

Everything snaps into place.

The picture is as clear as crystal.

That’s what it’s like for me—right now—looking at Kate. Suddenly, it’s all so obvious. So frigging clear.

I’m in love with her. Totally. Helplessly. Pathetically.

In love.

Kate owns me. Body and soul.

She’s all I think about. She’s everything I never thought I wanted. She’s not just perfect—she’s perfect for me.

I’d do anything for her.

Anything.

I want her near me, with me. All the time.

Forever.

It’s not just the sex. It’s not just her gorgeous body or her brilliant mind. It’s not just that she makes me think or how eager she is to challenge me. It’s more than any of that.

It’s all of it.

It’s her.

I’ve broken every goddamn rule I’ve ever set for myself to be with her. And it wasn’t just to f*ck her.

It was to have her. To keep her.

How did I not see it before? How come I didn’t know?

“Hey?” She kisses me softly on the lips. “Where’d you go? I lost you for a minute. Are you okay?”

“I…” I swallow harshly. “Kate, I…” I take a deep breath. “I…I’m fine.” I smile and kiss her back. “I think you just wore me out.”

She laughs. “Wow. Never thought that would happen.”

Yeah—tell me about it.





Chapter 17

I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING: What the f*ck?

If I realized that I’m in love with Kate, and she’s obviously infatuated with me—how does she end up back with Billy Why-Don’t-You-Just-Die-Already Warren?

Excellent question. We’re almost there. But first: a science lesson. What do you know about frogs?

Yes. I said frogs.

Did you know that if you put a frog in boiling water, he’ll jump out? But, if you put one in cold water and heat it slowly, he’ll stay in. And boil to death. He won’t even try to get out. He won’t even know he’s dying. Until it’s too late.

Men are a lot like frogs.

Was I freaked out by my little epiphany? Of course I was. It was huge. Life-changing. No more strange *. No more stories for the guys. No more Saturday nights. But none of that mattered anymore. Honestly.

Because it was too late. I was already boiling—for Kate.

That whole night I watched her sleep. And made plans…for us. The things we’d do together, the places we’d go—tomorrow and next weekend and next year. I practiced what I would say, how I would tell her my feelings. I imagined her reaction and how she would confess she felt the same way. It was like a movie, some horrible chick flick that I would never go see. The dashing playboy meets the take-no-prisoners girl of his dreams, and she snags his heart forever.

I should have known then that it was too good to be true. The best things usually are: Santa Claus, the male G-spot, heaven—the list is endless.

You’ll see.





We’re walking down Fifth Avenue. Instead of wasting precious time driving across town to Kate’s apartment, we stopped at Saks on the way to work, where I bought Kate a new navy Chanel suit. Can’t have her doing the Walk of Shame into the office, now can I? When she was trying on clothes for me, I swear, I felt just like Richard f*cking Gere in Pretty Woman. Kate even bought me a tie.

See?

Then she insisted on stopping by the lingerie department to replace the panties I’d so erotically destroyed. I put up a good fight over that one, but I lost. You ladies ought to know—going commando? That’s sexier than leather and lace and whips and chains all put together.

We stop by Starbucks and grab some much-needed caffeine. As we walk back outside, I pull Kate close. I cup her cheek and kiss her. She tastes like coffee—light and sweet. She pushes my hair back out of my eyes and smiles.

I’ll never get tired of looking at her. Or kissing her. * whipped, thy name is Drew. Yeah I know. It’s okay. I don’t mind. ’Cause if this is the Dark Side? Sign me up. Seriously. Don’t be surprised if I start skipping down the street singing, “Zip-a-Dee-f*cking-Doo-Dah.” I’m that happy.

Kate and I turn the corner. Holding hands and smiling at each other like two idiots who popped one too many antidepressants. Nauseating, isn’t it?

We need to stop here for just a minute. You should look at us. How we are right here, right now—hand in hand. You should remember this moment. I do.

We were…perfect.

Then we get to our building. I open the door for Kate and walk in behind her.

And the first thing I see are daisies. Large white daisies with cheerful yellow centers. Some in vases on the security desk, others in bunches tied with ribbon. Some are scattered singly all over the floor, random petals here and there. In the middle of the lobby is a circle of even more daisies. In the center of that circle, is Billy Warren. And he’s got his guitar.