Catch

by Bladon, Deborah

  He takes a slow sip from his mug. The bastard is torturing me, and he knows it. The smirk on his face says it all.

  “When?” I repeat.

  “I was walking my daughter to school when we passed Maren.” He lets out a sigh. “Stevie made a big deal about Maren’s dress. She said she’d wear it every day too if she had a dress that beautiful.”

  I hang my head as I chuckle. “That sounds like our Stevie. How did Maren react?”

  “She blushed.” He smiles. “You’re happy, Keats.”

  It’s not a question. My brother knows me better than anyone. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “I’m glad you’re not letting the past play a hand in this.”

  It’s the perfect opportunity for me to tell him to let his past go, but our heartbreaks don’t measure equal.

  He lost a woman he loved since they were kids.

  I lost a woman I thought I loved for a couple of months.

  Berk’s wife died.

  My ex-fiancée cheated on me.

  You can’t compare devastation to a distraction.

  I got over Amber within a few months. My brother is still nursing a pain that I can’t fathom.

  “Maren is nothing like Amber,” I say the words aloud that I’ve been carrying inside since I met the woman I spent last night with. “We’re talking apples and oranges here.”

  “I know.”

  “You know? How?”

  It’s a rhetorical question, but in true Berk Morgan fashion, he answers it. “I’ve never seen you smile this much, Keats. She lights up your world.”

  I can’t argue with any of that, so I don’t.

  I skip the coffee and instead go to my brother for a hug.

  He stands and wraps his arms around me. “I’m happy for you, Keats.”

  I hope to hell one day in the future I can say the same to him.

  Chapter 46

  Maren

  Keats Morgan is a devil in a three-piece suit with a mouth made for sin.

  I stare at him as he exits the elevator.

  It’s been over an hour since I left his townhouse. I didn’t make it more than twenty feet down the sidewalk before I ran into his brother and niece.

  My dress was the dead giveaway that I had spent the night with Keats. Stevie commented that she’d wear a dress like mine all the time if she had one, so I’m determined to find something similar to gift her with.

  Maybe that’s crossing a line, but it feels right.

  Spending the night with Keats felt right too.

  “You’re smiling this morning, Miss Weber,” Keats says as he approaches my desk. “A word in my office, please.”

  I nod as I feel the eyes of my co-workers on me.

  I stand up. Smoothing my hand over the skirt of the navy blue shift dress I changed into, I walk into my boss’s office.

  “Shut the door,” he says without turning to face me.

  I click it closed quietly, taking an extra second to turn the lock.

  “I left before you woke up,” I point out the obvious. “I needed to get home to change before work.”

  He pivots to face me. His gaze travels over my body. “I want to strip you bare, Maren. I need to fuck you again.”

  My core aches with need. “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” He edges a brow up. “That’s a long time from now.”

  I take a measured step closer to him, fully aware that my nipples have furled into tight points. “You’ll manage.”

  “Will I?” He drops his hand to the front of his navy blue pants. Cupping his erection through the fabric, he lowers his voice. “I’m as hard as nails.”

  “We’re at work, Keats.”

  He stares into my eyes. “I won’t touch you here, but as soon as the day is over, I want you on your knees in my bedroom.”

  The promise of that draws my tongue over my bottom lip. “Maybe I won’t make it until the end of the day.”

  He steps closer until we’re almost touching. “Don’t lay a finger on that pussy before tonight. No pleasure without me, Maren.”

  I nod, hopelessly in lust with this man. “I won’t.”

  His gaze trails over my body. “This conversation is going to kill me.”

  Huffing out a laugh, I lock eyes with him. “You’ll live, Keats. I promise that the wait will be worth it.”

  ***

  Three hours later, I’m still catching my breath from the conversation I had with Keats in his office.

  I’ve spent the morning reaching out to several of Keats’s New York based clients to set up dinner meetings with them.

  My boss likes to keep the lines of communication open with his clients, and for him, that means face-to-face interactions.

  I scheduled two lunches for next week and dinner with a client who asked me to thank Keats for the dollhouse he sent to his daughter for her birthday.

  I’m responsible for that.

  I saw the note in Keats’s online calendar that he wanted to send a dollhouse to the girl, so I made the call myself to place the order so it would arrive in plenty of time for her sixth birthday party.

  Glancing up when the elevator dings its arrival on our floor, I smile when I see Fletcher Newman exit.

  He holds up a hand in greeting to me.

  I glance at Keats’s office and notice him on a call. His brow is furrowed, and his voice lowered as he speaks to a scout based in California.

  I slide to my feet to intercept Fletcher.

  “Hey, Fletcher.” I step to the side to block entrance to my boss’s office.

  “Maren,” he says my name with a bright smile. “I was in the neighborhood. I thought I’d stop by and say hi, so hi.”

  I let out a laugh. “Keats is on a call, but he won’t be much longer.”

  He glances over my shoulder. “I came to see you.”

  I’m surprised, but I don’t let it show. “What can I do for you?”

  He produces a bunch of flowers from behind his back.

  I gasp when I see the colorful mixture of roses, daffodils, and peonies.

  “These are for you.” He shoves the bouquet toward me. “My mom wanted me to get them to say thank you for the gift and for helping me with the tux.”

  I take them from him. “This wasn’t necessary, but thank you, and please, tell your mom thank you too.”

  His gaze drops to the floor. “She said your heart is as big as Long Island.”

  I laugh. “That’s big.”

  “She told me that good people do good things.” He glances over my shoulder. “You’re a really good person.”

  “She’s an incredible person.” Keats’s voice sounds from behind me. “Maren is one in a trillion million.”

  Fletcher laughs. “Is that a real thing? A trillion million.”

  Keats steps in place beside me. “According to my niece, it is. Maren is special. You’ll never find another woman on earth like her.”

  I glance at him but drop the gaze once I feel my heart race in my chest.

  “I think my folks want to meet up with you two again soon.” Fletcher draws both our attention back to him.

  “Why don’t the three of you come to my home for dinner one night?” Keats offers. “We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Maren?”

  We.

  I’m beginning to love the sound of that word as much as I love the sound of us.

  “We would,” I say softly.

  “I’ll tell my mom to call you, Maren.” Fletcher sighs. “I need to cut out now. I’m meeting up with someone.”

  “Thank you again.” I raise the flowers to my nose. “I’m going to put these in water.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Keats steps toward Fletcher but not before he skims a hand down my back.

  It sends a shiver through me.

  It’s a promise of what awaits me tonight and, hopefully, for many nights to come.

  Chapter 47

  Keats

  The heat of her breath gusts over my thighs.
r />   I’m nude.

  Maren isn’t.

  She ordered me to my bedroom as soon as she arrived at my townhouse.

  I wanted to make things easy, so I was only wearing a towel when I answered the door.

  Her dress hit the floor before her foot hit the first stair on her way up here.

  Her bra was dropped somewhere in the hallway.

  She’s wearing red lace panties now. That’s what I see as I gaze down from where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed.

  I’m leaning back. My palms pressed against the bed coverings as she holds my cock in her hands.

  “This is perfect,” she says.

  I huff out a laugh. “Damn right, it is.”

  She circles the tip of her tongue over the crown in a long, slow, meant-to-torture-me movement.

  “Jesus,” I spit out. “Please.”

  “You owe so much money.” She tilts her head to give me a clear view of her tongue sweeping the length of my cock.

  I drag my fingers through her hair, tugging it. “Suck my cock.”

  “You’re impatient.” She squirms her ass. “I want to take it slow.”

  “I want to fuck your sweet little mouth.”

  Her eyes widen. “Say that again, Keats.”

  I yank her hair to get her eyes on me. “I want to fuck your sweet little mouth.”

  Her lips envelop me before I can register what’s happening.

  I groan from the burst of pleasure that slides up my spine. “Fuck, yes.”

  She takes control. Her hand cups my balls as she glides her mouth over the length of me.

  I drive my cock up and into her mouth, over and over again. I’m fueled more by the soft sounds of pleasure escaping her and the slickness of her tongue over my flesh.

  I close my eyes and give in to all of it.

  It’s not just the driving need to orgasm.

  It’s the vulnerability and the feeling that I’m falling in love with this woman.

  ***

  Maren walks into my bedroom after a shower, wrapped in my navy blue bathrobe.

  I almost drop to my knees from the sheer beauty of that.

  This is the life I want. I want this to be my every day.

  “We should eat,” she says from the doorway.

  I swipe the back of my hand over my lips. “I ate, but I’m ready again. Get on the bed. I want you on your knees this time.”

  I ate her after we fucked.

  She told me she didn’t think I could come again after the load I shot down her throat, but I’m always up for a challenge.

  She laughs. “Don’t make me laugh, or I might hiccup.”

  “I fucking love when you hiccup.”

  Her hands drop to her hips. “You swore, Keats.”

  “I’ll write a check for a hundred grand this month.” I scrub my hand over my chin. “That gives me room to curse a few more times.”

  She starts toward me. “I can order some food.”

  “Or I can cook for you,” I offer.

  Her eyes narrow. “You cook?”

  Tugging on the belt of the robe, I pull her toward me. “I’m an excellent cook.”

  Her arms reach for my bare shoulders. Her eyes travel down my body, stopping at the waistband of my boxers. “What we did was incredible. I loved all of it.”

  I love all of you.

  Fear stalls those words inside of me.

  “I did too,” I offer with a kiss on her lips. “You’re amazing, Maren.”

  Her eyes search mine for something, but I can tell by the expression on her face that she doesn’t find what she’s looking for.

  “What will you cook?” she questions with a purse of her lips.

  “Hot dog pizza?”

  She scrunches her nose. “What’s the second choice?”

  I huff out a laugh. “Who said there was a second choice?”

  Her pointer finger lands in the middle of her freckled chest. “Me.”

  I stare at the sliver of skin exposed by the opening of the robe. I want to count those freckles and catalog them in my mind for eternity.

  “Your second choice is leftovers.”

  She inches up on her heels to press a kiss to my jaw. “I love leftovers.”

  I grab hold of her chin to keep her in place. I stare into her eyes. “You like this, all wet and wild, makes me wonder how anything this beautiful can exist.”

  Her lips press together. “Wow.”

  “Wow, is right.” I brush my lips over hers for a soft kiss. “You’re the definition of wow.”

  I hold her there until she starts to pull away. “I should get dressed.”

  “No.” I reach down to tighten the belt around her waist. “Wear my robe to dinner, and don’t mess with your hair. I want you just like this when we eat.”

  “I won’t change a thing,” she reassures me. “I’ll stay like this for as long as you want.”

  Forever.

  I want her just like this forever.

  Chapter 48

  Maren

  Why do moments this perfect have to be punctuated by bullshit?

  That’s a real question.

  Whenever I feel my life is sailing along toward bliss, a hurricane creeps up and wipes out my happiness.

  I stare down at the screen of my phone while Keats heats up pasta he ordered in for his brother and Stevie last night.

  He said it’s baked ravioli from Calvetti’s.

  It smells incredible.

  The lump in my gut isn’t from hunger. It’s from the message that just popped up on my screen.

  I reread it.

  Hey. I’m following up on Dudley. Were you able to reconnect him with Keats?

  I tap my finger over the screen of my phone.

  “Maren?” Keats calls my name from where he’s standing next to the microwave. “You look pissed. What’s wrong?”

  Was it that noticeable in my expression?

  I drop my gaze back to my phone to reread the first message this woman sent to me weeks ago when I found Dudley.

  I met that dog when I stayed at his owner’s place. Keats Morgan is the man you’re looking for. He’s a fun trip. Enjoy the ride!

  “It’s nothing,” I say.

  Keats wipes his hands on a towel near the sink. “Tell me, Maren.”

  I don’t want to ruin this perfect evening by bringing up one of his ex-lovers. “I said it’s nothing, Keats.”

  He stalks toward me.

  Even with a bare chest and boxers on, he’s commanding. I can tell that he’s not going to drop this, and I won’t lie to him.

  “Is your roommate all right?”

  “It’s nothing like that.” I shake my head.

  “What’s it like?” he asks, ignoring the ring of the microwave signaling the food is warmed.

  I struggle with how to tell him or whether I should. I could delete all of the messages and forget this ever happened.

  But I don’t.

  “I got a message,” I admit. “It was from one of the women who reached out to me after I found Dudley.”

  He leans his forearms on the island. “One of the women?”

  The question is waiting to be answered, so I do it. “One of twenty-three women.”

  His gaze drops to the granite countertop. “Shit.”

  I look past his shoulder to the microwave. “Let’s eat dinner.”

  His head shoots up. “No. We’re going to talk about this.”

  I nod, unsure if I’m supposed to start this conversation or not. My knowledge of his past lovers is limited to their names and the brief details provided on their Facebook profiles.

  I only looked up a handful, and that was enough.

  Pretty, successful, fun women responded to my posting.

  Those same women have slept with the man I just got out of bed with.

  “Do you want to see who responded?” I offer my phone to him.

  Shaking his head, he raises his hand. “No.”

  I’m surprised by that
. “Why not?”

  “Those women helped me when I needed it,” he says, keeping his gaze locked on mine. “None of them are a part of my life now. I was fucked after my fiancée cheated on me, so I screwed whoever wanted to screw me.”

  I’m stunned. I stare at him.

  “I came home from a trip early and walked into the bedroom to find her riding the cock of one of my clients.” He grimaces. “Talk about a fucked up mess.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter.

  “I’m not.”

  I look for more from him. We’re so deep into this now that I want to know everything.

  “Amber was wrong for me, Maren.” He rakes a hand through his already messy hair. “I didn’t realize how wrong until I met you.”

  “Until you met me?”

  He rounds the island to stand in front of me. “After Layna died, I asked Amber to marry me because I felt lost, and she was there. We’d been dating for a couple of months at the time.”

  I nod.

  “But, I realized pretty quickly that you can’t chase grief away by ignoring it. You have to sit with it. You need to feel it. I thought planning a wedding would ease the pain, but it didn’t.”

  I stare into his eyes.

  “Even though I didn’t love her the way I should have, I never cheated on her.” He pats the countertop. “I stayed true to her, and when I found out, she didn’t, I was tossed into a tailspin.”

  He glances over his shoulder when the microwave beeps again.

  “I used sex to deal with all of it.” He tilts his head back. “I didn’t fully work through Layna’s death, so random fucking buried the pain of that and the hit my ego took when Amber cheated.”

  “And now?” I question. “How are you now?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly,” I repeat.

  “I’ve never been happier.”

  Chapter 49

  Keats

  I stand in front of her, with all of my fucked up bullshit exposed, and my heart laid bare.

  Until today, Berk was the only person who knew that Amber was unfaithful.

  I told him the night I caught her cheating.