Page 48 of The Christmas Fix
He bit her on the neck and then sucked away the sting of his teeth.
“I don’t know what this is,” she said, clawing at his belt.
“Hurry up before we come to our senses.”
Cat’s fingers fumbled with the buckle. “Why are you wearing so many damn clothes?” It wasn’t cold anymore. The heat they were throwing off was enough to chase the winter from the alley.
“Cat?” Her name called from the front of the building reached them both.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Cat chanted. “It’s Paige.”
Noah jumped back and tried to shove his shirt back into his waist band. “Just close your coat, genius,” Cat hissed as she tried to put her boob back in her bra.
“Cat? Oh, uh…” Paige trailed off as she peered into the alley. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Cat said, clearing her throat and crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re just telling each other how much we hate each other.”
“Lovely.” Even drunk, Paige had better judgment than Cat. “Why don’t you two call it a night? And we’ll clear the air tomorrow?”
Noah was still staring at Cat as if she were dessert.
“Yeah. Sure. Fine with me.” He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that had moments ago been clutching her breast.
Cat wet her lips and watched Noah’s eyes narrow in on her mouth.
“Whatever,” she shrugged. When she pushed past Noah, she made sure to drag her knuckles over his still ragingly hard dick.
She heard Paige saying something to Noah, but the blood pumping in her ears muffled the words. She’d just made out with her nemesis. She’d been ready to drop to her knees in an alley to take her mortal enemy’s cock out of his pants and—
“You okay, Cat?” Paige asked, jogging to catch up with her. “That looked like a pretty intense argument back there.”
“Intense,” Cat agreed.
“We’re really going to have to find a way for you two to keep the peace if we want this show to happen,” Paige reminded her. The only hint at her lack of sobriety was the way she closed one eye to better focus on Cat’s face.
“You’re such a weird drunk,” Cat commented.
Paige gave an unladylike snort. “Me? You’re usually the one who ends up riding some guy like a bronco bull on the dance floor.”
“Yeah. That’s what normal drunk people do.” Normal drunk people, however, did not kiss the ever-living shit out of a man whose sole purpose in life appeared to be driving her crazy.What had she been thinking? What was in those Cosmos? Inhibition relaxers?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Noah woke the next morning with a dull headache, an unsettled stomach, and a vague sense of disappointment. His two self-induced orgasms the night before had done nothing to get Catalina King and her breathy declarations of every dirty thing she wanted to do to him out of his head. They’d just left him feeling embarrassed.
He’dkissedher. More than kissed her. He’d tried to devour her in an alley in front of a recycling bin. And not ten minutes before he’d been quite convinced that the roiling of his blood every time he saw her was just run of the mill distaste.
He started the first pot of coffee in the peace of his quiet kitchen. On mornings when Sara wasn’t here, he tried to be up and out the door before any of his guests invaded the kitchen. Now, he was alone with his thoughts.
And in the hungover light of day, his choices the night before didn’t look any better. He’d been four seconds away from tearing the jeans off Cat and banging her against the wall. It wasn’t that Drake and Henry’s schooling had done it either. No, that kind of buildup must have been burning bright long before anyone told him Cat wasn’t the devil herself.
Noah didn’t like strong feelings. He wasn’t comfortable with anything that pushed him out of his safety zone. Not extreme anger or fear or now the hazy blaze of lust. He liked being on an even keel. It was safer there. A therapist would probably say that stemmed from his childhood. But he didn’t have time for therapists or dwelling on the past. He could only do his best to make sure his daughter never suffered a second of the fear or dread or desperate hunger he’d known as normal.
He glanced at his watch and poured his first cup of coffee. He double checked his bag for his laptop, charger, office keys, phone, and wallet. He’d left his car downtown. Five beers and two shots were however too many drinks for him to get behind the wheel. Plus, he’d hoped the bitingly cold air would clear his head from the fog of Cat’s body responding with abandon to his.
Would he see her today? Would she remember? Would it happen again?
He’d half expected her to text him the night before. Maybe chalking it up to high tensions and alcohol. Maybe firmly stating it would never happen again. Maybe questioning if it would be the worst thing in the world to let it happen again…
