Page 64 of False Start
Harvey lets out an appreciative hum. “Do you want my help?”
Her help.
I’ll take anything she gives me.
I squeeze my thighs together, an urgent need starting to grow between my legs. The more she holds me this closely, the more I feel enveloped in her grandness.
Because she is. Cat Harvey is everything I’ll never be. Confident, strong,tall, determined, and, worst of all, she’s breathtaking. The bright green of her eyes and the soft pink of her lips against the drastic cut of her jaw—she was made to be admired, and from this angle, it’s all Icando.
“Yes,” I finally answer.
She squats down to my level. “Are you asking?” She’s speaking low, even though she doesn’t need to.
“Yes.” It comes out almost mechanically, my body taking over and doing whatever I need to feel anything but this terrible anguish and burning need to get high, to soothe the discomfort.
She sees it too.
“Please.” I’m not beyond begging.
She looks me over one more time before she speaks. “Undress,” is the word of choice, and then she’s gone from the room, leaving me kneeling on the floor as she heads down the hallway.
I’m only frozen momentarily, not paralyzed, stunned by the whiplash of the day.
And Cat.
Cat fucking Harvey, who invades my dreams, my showers, and now my real life. Cat, whose hatred felt heavy but whose desire feels explosive.
I’m sitting on my heels, hands placed over my thighs, when Harvey returns to the living room, a t-shirt in one hand and a pair of tube socks in the other. Her eyes widen for only a split second at the recognition of me being undressed and on my knees again. Satisfaction paints her face, though she’s trying hard to not show it.
“Here,” she says, handing me theJob For A Cowboyshirt from one of their early tours. It’s probably just right on her, but it comes down to my mid thighs. “I don’t think you’re going to fit into my pants, so you can have these.” She gives me the socks next, and I know she’s right. Me in her pants would have been comical.
I unroll each sock up to right above my knees. These are Devil’s Dame socks, color coded with black and blue stripes at the top and the logo of our Dame on each side. It’s my team too, and I have my own socks, but for some reason, putting hers on feels different.
Like I’m tryingheron.
And
she
fits
just
right.
27
HARVEY
Iknew something was wrong when she didn’t show up to practice last night. Still, with no response from her and Kade giving me only blunt replies, I had nothing to go on.
“Can you eat?” I ask.
She shakes her head. If she used a couple of hours ago, she’s just now on her way down, which means food is the last thing on her mind. I don’t ask her anything anymore; she’s past the point of making her decisions. That’s why she came to me.
“When’s the last time you ate something?” I just need to check.
“Yesterday, I think.” She doesn’t try to lie to me, and I appreciate that for what it is.
