by Meghan March
With any other woman, I would worry about the possibility of her trying to trap me for my money or my fame. But not Greer. Fuck, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try to trap her with a baby if that meant I could keep her.
I would lie, cheat, and steal to call this woman my own.
Oh. My. God. What the hell did I just do?
“Look at me.”
Cav’s gravelly voice breaks through the chaos crashing through my head and drowning out the amazing orgasm I just had. His order is the same as the one he gave before he slid that perfect cock inside me, and yet I can’t look him in the eye this time.
I push against his shoulders. “I need to get down.”
His grip tightens, and it’s clear I’m going nowhere until he decides to let me off this ride.
“Greer, fucking look at me.”
When I don’t respond or comply, Cav’s hand cups the side of my face and tilts it so I have no choice but to follow his order.
“Let me down.”
“No.”
A maniacal laugh breaks free from my lips. “You don’t get to tell me no. Let me down now, dammit.”
He shakes his head, and if I weren’t so worried about holding on, I’d slap the smug look off his face.
“Finally got you where I want you, and I’m not letting you down until I’m ready.”
“Where you want me? On your dick? You could’ve had me there three years ago, but we both know how that ended.”
I shift again, my inner muscles reflexively clenching when his cock presses against me. Isn’t he going to get soft?
Cav tightens his grip on my face. “There’s a lot of shit you don’t know, Greer.”
My eyes roll so violently, I’m shocked I don’t strain something. “Of course I don’t know, because you didn’t stick around long enough to say good-bye, let alone explain it to me.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks, and I wish he’d set me down so I don’t keep cataloging every shift in his expression. I’m under fire from Cav overload, and there’s nowhere for me to go while he has me pinned on his cock. I’m truly between a cock and a hard place. Banner will never let me live this down.
I wait for an answer because I really have no choice in the matter. But the one I get from him isn’t acceptable.
“I made the choice I had to make.”
“And this is the choice I’m making—let me off your dick or I’m going to start screaming, and my neighbors are going to get a show they’ll never forget.” I make sure to enunciate every word.
His eyes flash, now golden brown with shafts of green. “I think you forgot. Putting on a good show is my job these days.”
Anger seethes through me, and Cav must realize I’m about to lose my shit. He releases his hold on my face and wraps both hands around my waist to lift me off his cock, which is still crazy impressive. My feet hit the floor just as I realize we didn’t use a condom.
How could I forget? I’m not an idiot kid. I’m a responsible, albeit unemployed, professional woman.
“Christ on a cracker. Isn’t this rule number one in fucking as a Hollywood star? Wrap it up? What if you knocked me up? Aren’t you afraid I’ll smear you in the tabloids? ‘Cav Westman’s Baby Mama Love Child Scandal.’” I gesture with my hand as I turn away and stalk toward my bathroom to clean up.
I freeze when I set foot in front of the mirror. Hot. Mess. My hair is wild, clearly from the just been fucked school of hair styling. The look in my eyes is even wilder than my hair.
Shower. That’s my only option right now. I turn the water to scalding and step right into the stream.
What the hell did I just do?
Cav Westman shows up out of nowhere because my crazy ad actually caught his attention, and then he whips his dick out, I grab it, and he bangs me against a wall.
I grab a bottle of body wash and squeeze a quarter of the bottle into my hand, as though the suds can somehow wash away the domino effect of bad judgment invading my life recently.
What a freaking disaster.
I’m reaching for the shampoo, still giving myself a mental scolding, when I feel a rush of cold air behind me.
“Careful, baby girl. You’re gonna scrub yourself raw if you don’t take it easy.”
Water washes the bubbles from my body and I spin around to face him.
He’s naked. Droplets splash off me and bead on his skin, sliding down one tanned inch at a time, rolling over muscles and sinew.
Words escape me as I watch one specific drop roll toward his cock. Why does he have to be so damn beautiful? He shouldn’t be allowed to be naked near me. I won’t be able to stop myself from touching him.
Then stop looking at him, Greer.
For the purpose of self-preservation only, I turn and face the wall and attempt to act casual. Like I’m going to be able to continue my regular shower routine while Cav Westman’s perfect naked body stands only feet away from me.
I grab my shampoo and squirt way too much into my hand because I’m concentrating really hard on the white grout between my cream-and-gold-flecked travertine tiles and not the naked man behind me.
“What are you doing in here?” I’m going for nonchalant, but the words come out strained.
“Following you.”
“Without an invitation?”
His husky laugh fills the shower enclosure. “The sight of your gorgeous ass walking away was the only invitation I needed.”
I turn again, this time determined to keep my eyes on his face. Except his eyes are not on mine. Nope, he’s taking in every inch of my nakedness, and my skin heats from more than the scalding water.
He steps closer, murmuring something that’s lost in the pounding of the spray.
“What did you say?”
The golden brown of his irises seems to glow. “Wasted three years. Not going to waste any more time.”
My heart slams against my chest. I can’t handle declarations like that from him. All my life, I’ve had an overarching sense of loss that started with never knowing my parents. That loss was exacerbated by having a brother who was sent away to boarding school when I was young. An uncle who was cold and distant and now missing. An aunt who alternately doted on me or pretended I didn’t exist, depending on my uncle’s mood. And then the time I started to fall for the guy standing before me and thought I might have found something real, but then he disappeared without a word.
No one stays in my life. At least, not for long.
With each slow breath I take, I reel in my rioting emotions, forcing my heart to slow to a regular pace. When I posted that ad, I was drunk and looking for validation. Someone to make Tristan realize he missed out on the awesomeness that is me. I couldn’t even truly admit to myself that I held a sliver of hope that this particular man would see it. I never expected it to work, and I certainly wasn’t prepared for the tidal wave of emotions that would come with it when it did.
I need space, but Cav clearly has other ideas because he’s moving closer. I can’t do this. If Cav’s water-slicked body presses mine against the wall and his lips find all the spots that make me shiver and moan . . . it will push me down a path I’m not sure I’m ready for.
What the hell was I thinking when I placed that ad? I wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem. But I’m thinking now.
“I . . . I think you should go.” My voice wavers on the first words, but strengthens as I find my conviction.
Cav doesn’t listen. Instead he steps closer, crowding me into the tiled corner. “Are you sure that’s what you really want, baby girl? Because I think you’d rather I pin you to this wall and fill that perfect little pussy over and over until your screams bounce off these walls. I think you want me to help you forget that piece-of-shit loser who came before me. I can wipe him away, Greer. You’ll never remember any cock but mine. Never remember any orgasm as good as the ones I’m about to give you.”
The vision of what he described comes to life in my mind, and dammit, I want that. I want him. I wan
t to forget the frenzied thoughts warring in my head. Maybe, just maybe, for once in my life I can stop thinking and go with what feels right.
Except the last time you did that with him, you got burned.
Sitting alone on the Top of the Rock, waiting for Cav to show. And he never did. The hair, makeup, and everything else I spent an entire day preparing for that one night . . . for nothing. And I never heard a word from him again.
He walked away then, which means he can easily walk away now.
I shake my head. “Go. Please. This was a huge mistake.” The words grate against my throat, sounding as forced as they truly are.
I keep my eyes lowered to the side, counting the tiles on my shower wall rather than meeting his gaze. When he doesn’t move, I squeeze them shut and wait.
Another cold rush of air signals his exit. Because that’s what Cav is good at—leaving.
I stay in the bathroom for much longer than I need to, killing time because I don’t want to face what I’ve done. Five minutes, that’s about how long it took for me to let a guy I hadn’t seen in years fuck me. No explanation. No discussion. Just sex.
I would call myself a slut, but I don’t believe in double standards.
And then there’s the small matter of the fact that we didn’t use a condom. I will call myself an idiot because that’s the absolute truth. I’m on the pill, but I don’t know where Cav has been. If there’s any truth to the tabloids, I just fucked half of Hollywood. Ick.
Right, so doctor’s appointment next. And then I’m going to get to work on the case I snatched out of my office. I’ve spent two days in a woe-is-me pity party, and it’s time to get my ass in gear.
Feeling better about my decisions, I blow-dry my hair and apply my makeup. Finally looking less like a homeless waif who found her way into my apartment, I enter my bedroom through the connecting door to find clothes. Part of me wonders if I’ll find Cav sprawled out there, waiting for round two, but that would be a no. Grabbing a clean pair of leggings, a bra, and a T-shirt, I quickly toss them on.
I’m stepping out of my bedroom when I hear the sounds coming from the kitchen.
No. Way.
That’s my first thought when I see Cav sliding an omelet onto one of my plates.
“Hash browns are almost done. Hope you’re hungry.”
I must have stepped into an alternate universe. Because that’s the only explanation I have for the fact that Cav is cooking breakfast in my kitchen.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my question ridiculously obvious and dumb.
“I’m hungry. Didn’t take the time to grab any food before I came.”
Okay, time for an awkward reality check.
I drop a hand to my hip and lift my chin. “Speaking of coming, do you have anything I need to be worried about? I mean, I’ll still get checked and I’m on the pill, but it’d be good to know what I’m walking into.”
Cav shakes his head as he lifts the hash browns out of the pan and onto the plates. “I would think you’d know better than to believe every damn thing you read in the tabloids, Greer. I might be a dick, but I’m not a total manwhore. You hungry?” He finally looks at me when he holds out the plate.
I don’t know what to say as I take the plate from him besides, “Thank you.”
Yes, definitely alternate reality. I’m sitting at the bar in my kitchen with Cavanaugh Westman beside me, and we’re eating omelets and hash browns. How the hell did this happen?
And of course, the ridiculous girl inside me says, This isn’t exactly a story we can tell our grandchildren about how we reunited.
We are not having grandchildren, Greer! We’re having no children. We’re not even a we.
I keep sneaking sideways glances at Cav as we eat. His jawline is covered in just enough scruff to make me wonder what it would feel like against my thighs.
Abort, Greer. Abort. I’ve got to stop thinking that way about him.
Memories from the first time I spotted him filter through my brain . . .
Who is that guy? His navy blue work pants fit his thick thighs and tight ass to perfection. Every other man I’d ever seen in those kind of pants—the ones with the bar code patch on the waistband for the cleaning company to scan that peeked out from beneath a heavy canvas belt—had a flat man-ass or a plumber’s crack that no one ever wanted to see.
But not this guy. The blue-gray work shirt made his eyes appear steel gray. The sleeves were rolled up over thick, corded forearms, revealing words inked along his golden-brown skin.
I glanced around to see if anyone else in the café noticed my detailed survey of the hottest maintenance man on the planet, but all I could see was the other girls’ eyes glued to him. Nope, I wasn’t the only person to notice him.
His dark hair was buzzed short and a sexy five o’clock shadow shaded his jaw, even though it was only noon. His broad shoulders and narrow waist probably had us all thinking the same thing—if there was a God in heaven, this man was actually a stripper and not the maintenance man, and we were about to get the greatest show of our lives when he tore that shirt off. From beneath the unbuttoned collar, I caught a glimpse of a white wife beater. Add in the tool bag he carried and my fantasies were spinning wildly out of control.
“Dibs,” Tracey whispered to me as we flipped through our flash cards for our Secured Transactions class.
I was supposed to know what a purchase-money security interest was, but all I could think about was the guy ordering something from the barista a dozen feet away from me. Black coffee, that was my guess. He didn’t look the type to order anything so feminine as a latte or a cappuccino. Nor did he seem like the double espresso type.
“What did you say?” My attention shifted reluctantly from what he was ordering to my friend.
Tracey tossed her flash cards on the table. “Never mind. I rescind my dibs. Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with that much man, even in my dreams.”
I grab the flash card on the top of the pile, forcing my brain back into study mode. “Purchase-money security interest. That’s what we need to be talking about. Professor Payne is going to call on me. I feel it.”
Tracey groaned. “It’s not your day; it’ll be mine. I feel it. Fuck the Socratic method so hard.”
She grabbed the rest of the cards and read off the elements of a purchase-money security interest. I completely tuned her out as the guy came toward us and his gaze collided with mine.
Holy hell. I felt it rake over my skin and take in every detail of my appearance. I was wearing skinny jeans, tall boots, and a sweater. My hair was falling down around my shoulders, and I was on the verge of pulling it back into a messy bun. I was glad I hadn’t yet, though.
Why did I even care? He was no one to me. But I wanted him to be.
“Greer, did you get that?”
“Huh?”
Tracey tossed the flash cards down again and wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. She watched me as she brought it to her lips. “You’re totally eye-fucking that guy and not using a single brain cell for Secured Trans.”
I jerked my gaze away from his and back to Tracey. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just . . . you know. What?”
The incoherent babbling gave me away. Or my complete and utter lack of subtlety. But dammit, the guy was hot and nothing like the Polo-shirt-wearing boys I went to school with. Their arms and shoulders did not look like that. Who knew a work uniform could be so dang sexy? And there I went again.
“Sorry. Secured Trans. Purchase-money security interest requires . . .” and I rattled off the elements.
Tracey’s eyes widened. “I hate that you’re so smart sometimes. You haven’t been paying attention at all, and you still know exactly what you need to know. Finish your eye-fucking and let’s get to class.”
“Greer,” Cav says, and from his tone, it sounds like it isn’t the first time he said my name.
I shake my head and drag myself into the present, to the man sitting beside
me who has haunted my thoughts for years.
“What’d you say?”
“Something wrong with the food? You on a hunger strike?”
I look down at my plate. I’ve only taken one bite, and the rest of the omelet is untouched.
“No. No, it’s fine. I’m just . . . processing what the hell is going on here. I didn’t exactly expect . . .”
“Me to show up at your door?”
I sneak another sideways glance and take in his raised eyebrow and the huge bite he shovels into his mouth. His omelet is three times the size of mine and almost gone. How the man can eat that much and still be so ripped is beyond me.
“Yeah.” I dig my fork into my own food, even though my stomach is a jumble of nerves right now and I don’t actually know how much I can eat.
“Well, what the fuck did you expect me to do when I saw the posts about the ad? You weren’t exactly subtle.”
I chew my light, fluffy eggs and bacon—mmm, bacon—as I consider my answer. I choose the truth. “I didn’t expect you to remember me. You’re a Hollywood big shot, and I’m the girl you stood up years ago.”
Okay, so it’s not the complete truth because some tiny absurd part of me insists he couldn’t forget me when I could never forget him.
Cav’s fork clatters against his plate as he turns. He slips the utensil from my hand and sets it on the counter.
“Do you really fucking think that?” His eyes flash golden-green and his brows draw together. This is the Cav is pissed look.
“What? That you walked away and never looked back? It certainly seems accurate. Unless you want to tell me you were thinking of me the whole time you were fucking Windsor Reed too?”
The gossip sites were overrun with news of the two of them for the last year. And yes, I read all the articles, despite telling myself I wouldn’t every single time.
“I never stopped thinking about you. I sure as hell didn’t walk away and never look back. I’ve never forgotten a single thing.”
“Then why did you do it?”