Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse Series Book 3)(3)
While I can certainly afford bigger and better, I don’t see any need to spend my money on my living conditions as I’m rarely here. Over the last several years, I’d gotten used to sleeping in small quarters or hotels, so I’m comfortable as is.
Jake’s different. He has a family that includes the pretty wife who’s a local, an adorable two-year-old daughter, and another kid on the way, although you can barely see Lorelei’s baby bump at this stage.
As I try to creep past a sleeping Catherine, I wish I had bigger digs so I could have offered her a guest room so she could get some rest. I actually did offer her my room when we got to my apartment last night, but she refused.
Staunchly.
Said she didn’t want to inconvenience me and she was already feeling like an imposition.
I assured her she was not and tried to push my room on her.
Her eyes immediately turned warm, and then sizzled with blooming sexual heat that made my dick start to get hard. “I’ll only take your room if you let me pay you, and well… you know the only thing I got to offer at this point is my mouth or my *. Want it?”
Fuck yeah, I wanted it. I’ve had both before and they’re f*cking fantastic.
But not last night.
Last night, Catherine was in a bad spot. I wasn’t about to take advantage of that offer. I wanted her to see she could get something from someone without the expectation of needing to give something in return. It’s called friendship and that’s what friends do.
And I think Catherine and I are friends.
Maybe.
Fuck, not really sure.
So even though I really wanted to f*ck her, I saw the stubborn pride bubbling low beneath the sensuality in her eyes, and I knew my dick was going to bed alone. Since she wouldn’t take my room without feeling the need to basically prostitute herself in return, I conceded and fixed up the couch for her complete with pillow, sheets, and a thick quilt. I also offered her up a t-shirt and a pair of my sweatpants, of which she accepted only the t-shirt. It swallowed her whole and made her look even more vulnerable than I was already considering her to be.
She doesn’t stir as I walk behind the couch that sits perpendicular to the mudroom wall and essentially creates a living area that opens right up into an L-shaped kitchenette that houses my stove, refrigerator, and enough cabinet space to barely hold my dishes. A small, round table with two chairs completes the set up.
As quietly as I can, I start making coffee, but the minute I open a squeaky cupboard door, I can hear Catherine starting to stir on the couch. After I fill the pot, measure the coffee, and start the brew cycle, I turn to find Catherine now sitting up with the quilt pulled demurely over her lap. She must have slept fitfully because her hair is a tangled mess and she has mascara smeared under her eyes, which reminds me of something.
“Your bags and stuff in the trunk of your car?” I ask her.
She blinks at me once, grimaces, and rubs a finger under one eye. She pulls it away, looks at the black smear, and wrinkles her nose. “Um… yeah.”
“Give me your keys. I’ll go get them so you can get cleaned up and changed,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” she says as she stands from the couch, her voice still rough with sleep. “I should get out of your way.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I tell her as she pulls her purse from the coffee table and reaches inside. “There’s no rush for you to leave.”
Her face clouds over, almost as if she refuses to believe someone could be nice, before tilting down so she can look around inside her purse. I take the brief opportunity to appreciate that even with tangled hair, mascara smears, and a baggy t-shirt on, she’s still one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen. Hell, she may be the absolute sexiest, and I’m only judging this by the fact that, in this moment, I seem to be more attracted to her than ever before. I’m not sure if it’s her vulnerability or my white-knight complex, but I’ve seen Catherine dressed in any number of sexy outfits with perfect hair and makeup, and I never wanted to f*ck her as bad as I do right now.
When she turns to me with car keys in hand, I hope she doesn’t notice the hard-on I’m sporting. Not that I’d be embarrassed about it because Catherine’s gotten me hard before and she knows it, but because I don’t want her to think that’s all I’m interested in from her. I especially don’t want her thinking she has to pay me in that way.
I take the keys from her and head for the door. “Mind pouring me a cup of coffee? I take it black.”
“Sure,” she murmurs, but I don’t look back at her. I need to get my dick under control.
In the trunk of her car, I find a large suitcase, a carry-on, and a duffle-type bag, all done in the classic brown leather and gold lettering of Louis Vuitton. I’m totally not into fashion, but I’d bought my fair share of that designer for both my mom and Tarryn, so I know how expensive this shit is. I can’t help but think that Catherine might find herself in a situation where she has to sell her f*cking luggage to get some cash, and that’s a shitty place to be.
I cart the bags up the outside staircase to my garage apartment with my hard-on back under control. I find her sitting at the small kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hand. My cup is poured and sitting by the coffee pot.
“Listen,” I tell her in my most casual voice so she doesn’t feel like a charity case. “Why don’t you stay here for a few days until you can get your bearings?”