Page 53 of Burn Bag
My heart clenched at her beauty—at the sincerity in her eyes. She was just a big sucker for cats. How could I deny her?
“But no more cats. Seven is enough.”
“I promise,” she said, but somehow, I doubted her. How long until she came across more cats and fell in love with them? Fuck, I was going to have to build a cat house or something.
“Alright,” I sighed, pressing a kiss to her cheek, hoping it would make her feel better. “Let’s get them some food so they don’t try to eat me. I’m beat and I need some fucking sleep.”
She smiled through her tears and pressed a kiss to my lips that lingered just a second longer than a friendly kiss. I almost grabbed herand pulled her to me, but she scampered off, calling out to all the kittens by name.
Running my fingers through my hair, I shook my head. “She has names for all them.”
It was fine. I could live with seven cats. The place was big enough. Two stories was more than enough room. And didn’t cats grow out of their playfulness eventually? Maybe I could make a cat run off the back of the house. Then she could keep her cats, but they wouldn’t be in the house at all times.
Fuck, what was wrong with me? The woman I’d just married had tricked me into keeping seven fucking cats. And I wasn’t actually that worried about it, other than the fact that I might lose a ball before the year was up.
I was just going to have to find plenty of toys for them. Anything to keep them busy and out of my hair. And I could put a ban on them entering the bedroom. At least then I could sleep in peace, knowing no cats would maul me in my sleep.
I glanced over at Daphne sitting on the floor, stroking the kittens as they climbed into her lap. Fuck, she was adorable. All that golden hair piled on her head, falling in tendrils around her face…she really was fucking beautiful.
And if I kept thinking of her that way, I’d give practically anything to her. If I was going to survive, I would need to set some boundaries. Some very hefty boundaries so I didn’t end up with ten more cats. She was too damn beautiful to deny anything.
“I’m going to bed,” I announced, hoping I could escape before I walked over to her and did something stupid—like begging her to go to bed with me. My cock was in no shape for sex, and I had no doubt in my mind that I would suffer through any pain to feel her lips wrapped around it.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I trudged upstairs, telling myself I was exhausted. I just needed to will myself to be sleepy. Then I wouldn’t think about shoving my cock in that sweet pussy or wrapping my hand in her hair as she swallowed me whole.
I pushed against the hospital pants I had been given and willed mycock to go down. The last thing I needed was to stretch out the cuts. After checking every inch of the room—under the bed and in the closet— I was satisfied there were no cats hiding anywhere. I shucked the blue scrub pants and pulled on a loose pair of shorts before climbing back in bed.
But I just couldn’t fall asleep. PTSD was a bitch, and every time I closed my eyes, I felt those phantom claws in my dick, tearing the life out of me. How the hell was I ever going to sleep again?
The door opened and Daphne crept in, closing the door behind her. I watched through slit eyelids as she quickly stripped out of her clothes—my clothes. Hell, she was still in that t-shirt and her tits were still bare. I watched as she sauntered over to my dresser and rifled through my things before producing another white t-shirt. I sighed internally as she covered up those magnificent breasts, but honestly, it was for the best.
As she slid into bed beside me, I prayed this time I would get some sleep that didn’t involve waking up to any wet dreams where cats were involved.
15
DAPHNE
I felt absolutelyhorrible about what happened yesterday. It took forever for Bradley to fall asleep after we got home, and I was pretty sure I heard him calling out in the night about his poor cock being attacked.
Honestly, it was a little funny, but I would never tell him that.
After feeding the cats, I set to work making breakfast. If I was going to be his wife, I was gonna rock at this whole homemaker thing. Not that I was going to sit at home and be the perfect wife for him. But at least today, I could pretend that I was what he needed.
I was shocked to find a KitchenAid mixer in his cabinets, though it looked like it had never been used. In fact, it was still in the box with the tape on and a thick layer of dust coated it. After wiping it down, I pulled out the mixer and read the instructions, having never used anything so complicated before.
I decided on bacon and pancakes for breakfast. It seemed simple enough, and though I wasn’t an expert at making any food, how hard could it be? I figured the bacon would take longer to cook, so I got that set up first, grinning as I listened to it sizzling on the stove.
This was easy. In no time, I would be a pro at this, cooking him breakfast and getting a morning kiss as he walked over to sit down.He’d compliment me on a job well done, and then we’d have sex on the counter.
Well, after his cock healed.
“Serves four,” I read on the box. “Four regular people or one grown man?” I snorted. I could eat a good heap of pancakes all on my own. One batch was probably enough for me, but for a man like Kavanaugh? He probably needed twice or three times as many.
I poured out the ingredients into the bowl that sat on the mixer stand. This really was so much easier than doing it by hand. At least, I assumed so, having never made pancakes before.
My phone rattled on the counter, and I winced when I read the name flashing on the screen. Mom. Yeah, I wasn’t any more ready to talk about my life choices with her at this moment than I had been while Bradley was in the hospital.
God, her independent daughter who had gone on digs with them, searched for the lost tomb of Queen Nefertiti, and listened to Egyptian history around a campfire, was now suddenly hitched to a man she’d never met, living with seven cats. My mother would never understand, but my father…
