by Max Monroe
Now, I wouldn’t say they were ever really thrilled to see me, but they weren’t as cold as the fucking Arctic like they had been that very first time. But whenever I saw them, they showed me the respect that I deserved.
I guessed progress was progress.
“Well, your dad is chomping at the bit to take a trip out to New York to see you guys. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure he stays patient until you’re all moved in.”
“Good plan.” I grinned and took a right off the exit toward my new neighborhood. “But I would definitely love for you guys to come stay a few days with us.”
“Oh, sweetheart, we’ll get a hotel when we come up there.”
I snorted. “Trust me, Mom, we have the room. And Quinn’s Southern manners wouldn’t allow it. He’ll demand you stay with us.”
Quinn’s house, my new house, was pretty damn big. Five bedrooms, five bathrooms, a finished basement, and that wasn’t including the lush terrace, pool, and Jacuzzi nestled in the backyard.
Not only did we have room for my parents to stay a few days, we had room to host a goddamn party for the entire football team. Although, feeding all those manly mouths would be a difficult task to tackle.
“Okay, sweetheart, I know you’re pretty busy right now, so I’ll let you go. But promise to FaceTime me in the next few days and show me the house once you’re all moved in?”
“Sounds like a plan, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
We ended the call, and before I could start my favorite Selena Gomez Spotify playlist, my phone started ringing again through the speakers of my car.
Incoming Call: Quinn
I laughed and rolled my eyes at the same time.
“What do you want?” I asked once I clicked accept on the call.
Soft and amused, his familiar chuckles filled my ears, and my heart skipped three beats. Good Lord, I was so in love with this man it was stupid.
“When are you going to be home?” he asked, voice tender and sweet as honey. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
“I’m about twenty minutes away, and you just saw me this morning.”
We’d spent my last night in the Hoboken apartment together, eating Chinese takeout and surrounded by moving boxes.
“Yeah, but that was six hours ago,” he said, and his voice dropped a few octaves then, growing deeper with each word. “Come home, kitten. I want to play with you.”
Oh boy.
“Stop trying to make me horny.”
“Is it working?”
Of course it was working, but I didn’t need the distraction while driving.
“That’s beside the point.”
“God,” he groaned, and that sexy as fuck groan urged goose bumps up my spine and hardened my nipples. “I’m already hard just thinking about putting my mouth on your pussy.”
“Quinn,” I tried to exclaim, but it was more like a half whine, half moan. “I’m trying to drive here.”
“All right, I’ll stop…for now. But I can’t make any promises for when you get home,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I was certain I knew every one of Quinn’s smiles, and this one was his “I love teasing Cat” sexy little smirk.
“Well, unless you want the movers to get a show, I think you should probably keep that promise for at least the next few hours.”
“It’s a big house, kitten. I’m sure it won’t be too hard to find a bit of privacy.”
“Oh my God,” I said on a sigh. “We’re not going to do…” I paused, and my cheeks flushed.
“We’re not going to do…what?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Say it, kitten. Tell me what we’re not going to do,” he said, and like honey from a beehive, his words dripped with sex.
“I’m not saying anything.”
“Oh, come on, baby,” he coerced.
“Quinn,” I chastised, but even I didn’t believe it. My face heated, and if I weren’t busy driving, I would’ve given in to the urge to clench my thighs together to relieve the ache between my legs.
Holy heavens, is it hot in here?
I glanced at the inside temperature of the car on the dash and found it was a comfortable seventy-three degrees.
“You know it drives me fucking crazy when my sweet little kitten gets a little dirty…”
When it came to me, Quinn was so damn intuitive it wasn’t even funny. Sometimes, it felt like he had a direct line into my brain. And right now, he wanted me to say all of the dirty things I was secretly thinking about.
Fine. I could play his game.
Game on, Quinn.
“We’re not going to fuck,” I stated, and immediately, my mind shouted, Wait…we’re not? That sounds a little ridiculous… We should definitely fuck Quinn. Lots and lots of fucking Quinn, to be precise.
“And what else?” he asked, voice husky.
I swallowed and tried to keep going, but holy moly, I was only getting myself worked up in the process.
“You’re not going to put your mouth on my pussy.”
Why am I even saying this?
“You won’t let me lick and suck on my kitten’s pussy until it gets all wet and swollen with the need to come?”
I was truly playing with fire right now. Any minute, I’d ignite into flames.
“N-no,” I responded, and the uncertainty in my voice was so thick I could’ve cut it with a knife.
“God, Cat,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking hard right now I could slice through concrete like it’s fucking butter.”
“See?” I giggled at that. “This was why I told you to stop.”
“Later,” he said, his voice low and determined. “Once the movers are gone and we’re alone, I’m going to play with you. Make you come on my fingers. My tongue. My cock. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in, kitten?”
I wanted to say, Yes, please. Or better yet, Tell the movers to come back another day. But in the spirit of not letting this conversation get out of hand again, I played it cool.
“Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Shut up,” I said on a laugh. “I’m refusing to let this conversation go any further or else—”
“Or else what?”
“Or else I’m going to need a new pair of panties by the time I make it home.”
“Fuck, kitten,” he groaned. “I want to bury my face between your legs and not come up for air until you come on my—”
“Okay…yeah…” I cut him off before he could get started again. “I love you…but, yeah. Bye, pickle! See you in like ten minutes.”
Pickle. I grinned at the nickname I’d come up with for Quinn as I hung up the phone. I wouldn’t say he was the biggest fan of it, but every time I used it, I was rewarded with one of his secretly amused smiles. It was growing on him. I knew that much.
The nickname had been created after two visits to a little deli up the street from the stadium led me to realize that Quinn Bailey loved eating pickles, and, if you had a pickle anywhere in his vicinity, he would steal it without an inkling of remorse.
Now, he was pickle. I was kitten. And, I might have been biased, but we were fucking adorable.
Our nicknames for each other had managed to reach the media after Quinn and I had done an exclusive interview about our relationship with Cosmopolitan. He’d gotten a lot of shit for it from his teammates, but deep down, I knew he secretly loved it.
And I knew exactly why. Because he loved me just as much as I loved him.
I’d never known a love like this could exist.
Until Quinn.
Somehow, someway, we’d found our way together, and it wasn’t without struggle. We’d tackled so many obstacles—his parents, the media, our insanely busy schedules.
At one point, I’d honestly thought it wouldn’t work.
I thanked God every day I’d eventually realized that, no matter how hard things were, Quinn was worth every bit of the fight.
&n
bsp; And, luckily, over the past few months, we hadn’t had to work so hard against outside obstacles.
The media had settled down. Any articles about us were generally positive, and most revolved around the question of: When are they getting married?
Our schedules weren’t so hectic. Thanks to Caterpillar & Co’s ever-growing success, and Quinn’s blatant promotion of his girlfriend’s company, I’d decided to resign from my position at RoyalAir. Hell, we’d been doing so well, I’d even been able to hire both Nikki and Casey on full time.
They both handled the promotion aspects of our company, often traveling around the States to find prime placement in stores like Paper Source and Target.
They’d just nailed both of those contracts a few weeks ago.
Things were good. Though, I had a feeling the RoyalAir Comedy Show was suffering a little these days.
And now, as I pulled into the private drive that led to my new home, I knew that with Quinn by my side, this was only the beginning.
I drove around the moving truck and found an easy parking spot in front of the garages. Five, to be exact. I still had no idea why we needed so many places to park our cars.
I clicked off the engine, grabbed my purse from the passenger seat, and made my way into the house. Just as I entered through the garage, I could hear Quinn’s voice reverberating through the house.
“Thanks, guys,” he announced, and it sounded like he was in the foyer. “I really appreciate the speed at which you managed this move.”
“No problem,” a man responded, his voice having that all-too-familiar fanboy tone to it. “Anything for Quinn Bailey,” he added. “I’m…well…we’re all huge fans of yours.”
I smiled and shook my head as I set my purse down on the big island in the center of the kitchen. Instead of eavesdropping on the fan session, I walked into the living room to see what boxes I needed to start unpacking.
But to my surprise, there was nothing.
Not a single box or container or…anything besides a perfectly clean space.
Maybe they’d moved all of my stuff upstairs?
I took one last glance around the living room and stopped once my gaze reached the mantel.
Hanging there, front and center, was one of my paintings.
My personal paintings.
An abstract portrait of myself, it showed the female form without really showing the female form. I’d painted it shortly after Quinn and I had really become an us. He’d been at my place when I’d created it, and once it was finished, he’d asked me what it was.
And I’d responded, “It’s me. In love. With you.”
I honestly hadn’t really thought much more about that painting. Until now.
My eyes filled with tears as I stared at it, taking in the little nuances of pastel-color hues and smooth brush strokes and the magnified bits of red and gold interspersed throughout.
God, he had my heart.
I walked into the dining room and found two more of my paintings, and when I’d made my way into the entry where Quinn stood, I spotted another three of my canvases.
He smiled as I moved toward him. It was his “I missed you, kitten” smile.
The instant I reached him, he enveloped me in a tight hug and lifted my feet off the ground. I leaned back and pressed a kiss to his mouth, and his smile grew wider against my lips.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“Because I love you,” I whispered. “So much.”
“I love you too, kitten.”
“You put my paintings throughout the house.”
“I did.” He nodded and set me on my feet. “And I also hired an extra ten movers to bring all of your stuff in as quick as humanly possible.”
I giggled at that. “That’s why I overhead you saying something about speed to someone. And how in the hell did you manage that?”
He shrugged. “I guess you could say I had it planned about two weeks ago. I didn’t want to spend my kitten’s official move-in day actually moving shit.”
“And what exactly did you want to spend today doing?”
“I have a special surprise to show you.” He smirked when I quirked a brow. “The only clue I’ll give you is that it’s not my cock. Not yet anyway. I have a good feeling you’ll be falling all over it later.”
I slugged him in the shoulder—don’t worry, not his throwing arm—and laughed. “And where exactly is this special surprise?”
“Upstairs,” he said. He took my hand in his and led the way, up the staircase, down the hall opposite our master bedroom, and to the very last room on the left. With a quick turn of the knob, he opened the door, and I nearly fell to my knees at the sight.
“Oh my God,” I gasped and looked at Quinn. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Welcome to your new space, baby.”
I stepped inside and walked around the room.
The walls were a beautiful cream, not at all like the stuff I’d pour in my coffee, but with a decadent and calming hue of beach sand. The floor, a dark walnut. And the two large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the back terrace were covered with sheer curtains that allowed sunlight to pour through.
In the center sat a gorgeous desk with a brand-new Mac resting in the center.
In one corner lay a gold velvet ottoman nestled in the perfect, coziest spot for me to sit and draw for hours. And in the other sat an easel with a stool, ready and waiting for me to put it to good use.
The paintings—my paintings—on the wall, the framed Caterpillar & Co logo, and our bestselling greeting cards hung across an adorable clothespin line along the wall. All of the little accents were one hundred percent me.
This room—my Quinn-appointed space in the house—had been created and designed with love and care.
I stepped over to the desk, and tears pricked my eyes when I saw a framed photo of Quinn and me, standing right beside the computer. It was taken a few weeks ago by Denver. We’d driven down to Alabama to see him, and he’d managed to snap that pic when neither of us was paying attention. We’d been locked in an adorable embrace, Quinn looking down at me and my chin resting on his chest, gaze locked with his.
Both of us had soft smiles on our faces.
The instant Quinn had showed me that photo after Denver had texted it to him, I’d said, “We look so in love.”
It was my favorite photo of us. And thirty years from now, I imagined it still would be.
He’d remembered that photo.
He’d remembered everything.
“Did you do all of this?” I asked and looked toward Quinn. He stood in the doorway, his shoulder resting on the frame.
“I did.” He smiled. It was genuine, sweet, and made my heart skip three beats. “Without any help either.”
“Fuck that!” I heard from the room next door, jumping at the unexpected voice. “I helped!” I recognized him then, his raucous laughter echoing through the wall as we listened to him jog down the stairs and out the front door before slamming it.
I winced at the force with which it resettled in the jamb.
Quinn laughed. “Sean is such a fucking diva.” I bit my lip as he explained. “He only helped with the heavy lifting.”
“I can tell,” I said, and he quirked a brow, slightly confused by my meaning. “That you did all of the important and special parts yourself,” I clarified. “The only way to create a room this amazing is out of pure love.”
With three strides, he closed the distance between us and placed his hands on my hips, his blue eyes shining down toward me like my own personal stars. “I love you, Catharine,” he whispered.
“I love you too.”
“You know, kitten, you’re so perfect for me, but…” He paused.
My throat constricted around the words. “But what?”
“If there’s one tiny thing I could change about you…”
I narrowed my eyes, prepared to give him hell, but his smile stole my will to argue right along with my
breath.
“It would be your last name.” His heart was right there in his eyes, vivid and bright just like the blue. And with painful, tedious care—his movement so slow it felt like time stopped—he took my left hand in his and bent down on one knee before me.
The black velvet box came easily out of his pocket, and I gasped.
The small hinges opened with the barest hint of a crack, revealing the most beautiful diamond ring I’d ever seen in my life. The huge, cushion-cut center stone winked flawlessly in the light—a true showstopper—and the two sapphires at the sides did their best to sing backup. All of it shone with a brilliance only matched by the exuberance positively fucking beaming out of me.
“Catharine Alexa Wild, will you marry me?”
With big doe eyes and shaking hands, Catharine stood before me like a baby deer on its first day.
Words were beyond my capability, and movement wasn’t an option either. She hadn’t seen the question coming, not today, and the fucking thrill of watching all the love she had for me scroll across her face threatened to bring me out of my skin.
“Kitten?” I prompted gently. I was eager for her answer, eager to touch her, eager to slide my ring onto her finger and get started on the rest of our lives.
Lives where everyone would know she was mine, I was hers, and together, we were unstoppable.
Tears kissed her cheeks, leaving behind the cutest of trails as they fell unchecked off of her chin. Her head shook, just slightly, the motion completely unconscious, and my chest tightened.
“Baby, the word you’re looking for is yes,” I told her. “Fucking say it!”
My order wasn’t harsh, but it was impatient, and my little bit of fire was enough to set hers blazing.
“You know, normal people do this one step at a time, Quinn,” she accused, her brows quirking in a way that showed her faint childhood biking scar. “They move in, spend some time living together, and then they get engaged.”
She was challenging and teasing me at the same time, all the while, her brown eyes—shining brightly with fresh tears—showed her truth.
I bit my lip to keep my smile in check. If I didn’t, it was bound to run away from me, completely out of control.