Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) (25 page)

We ate and made boring small talk. I told her about Mo knocking Angela up, the fight with D, and how things had settled.

“Kind of crazy, isn’t it? Having a baby in college?” She ran her hand through her hair, shifting it behind her ear.

“I guess, but Mo’s graduating and he’s gonna make good money, so I guess she’ll tag along.”

Cate seemed to think for a beat. “But she may want to finish her degree. Have a fallback.”

“There’s my little feminist . . . a short stack, but mighty.”

“Seriously, you don’t know what will happen in life. She could follow Mo, and then he could leave her high and dry later.”

“He could, but I don’t think he will. They’re having a baby. He’s doing the right thing.”

She shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

“You’ve changed so much in the last few weeks, drinking and now just settling for my answer. When I first met you, you would have made me drive you to Angela so you could pound some sense into her head.” I stroked her arm. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Like I told you, I’m figuring stuff out.”

“Tell me about this project.”

She smirked at me. “I would, but then I’d have to kill you, and I think the team would be pretty upset.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Tell me about you,” she said, changing the subject. “What’s coming up on the schedule? What does Coach say?”

Secretly, I loved Cate’s interest in sports. It wasn’t fake. She liked to see us play enough to sneak around to do it, and she always asked about it.

I didn’t love whatever was going on inside her head and this secret project. Seemed to me she was in over her head, but who was I? A dumb jock. What the hell did I know?

“My mom and my dad are coming the same weekend,” I told her. “Next week to see the game against Pitt.”

“Really?”

“Not by coincidence either. My mom is a glutton for romance . . . and punishment. She’s chasing my dad around again.”

Cate huffed. “At least they can be civil. My parents can’t be within fifty feet of each other without tearing each other’s eyeballs out.”

I laughed hard and took a long pull of my beer. “My parents will fuck and then pull each other’s eyeballs out. I don’t know what’s better. And this is a big fucking game.”

Tired of the small talk, I set aside my beer and pulled Cate close until she landed on my lap. I reached over to grab a strawberry and ran it over her lips. Her tongue peeked out to taste the chocolate.

Holding the strawberry just out of her reach, I said, “I want to kiss you.” Or maybe I asked, because I didn’t know what she wanted, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I’d never had to think about it before . . . or ask.

“You’re quite the romantic,” she said, her brown eyes jumping with curiosity.

I liked that about her. I excited her and she didn’t even know it.

“My mom writes romance, did you know? She must’ve rubbed off on poor me.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at me like she was trying to understand the opposing team’s plays. My cock was hard as shit, and my heart raced like I was at center court. I both loved and hated it. My whole life was ahead of me, and yeah, I wanted more. But was this it? This tiny outspoken woman from New Jersey who seemed to be so sure, yet unsure of herself?

Was I settling? I almost laughed out loud at how fucking ridiculous that sounded. I was on a date; it wasn’t a honeymoon or a lifetime of promises, no matter how deeply she looked into my eyes.

I tossed the strawberry aside and leaned in to kiss Cate. “Is this okay?”

And there it was, that
sensitive
part of me. I’d been raised by mostly my mom, and she and my dad might be fucked up but she didn’t raise me to be that way. She’d be mortified if she knew how I’d made my way through women like they were sweatbands these past few years. One thing for sure—I’d never forced myself on them, but I definitely took what was being offered.

And here I was asking if a kiss was okay.

To me, it felt way better than okay.

My tongue sought refuge in her mouth, fucking it while my hand stroked her back. Her soft moans vibrated against my tongue, and I swallowed each one as if I were starving.

I ran my hand up her spine, halting at the base of her neck to hold her close. I didn’t have to put too much pressure, just enough to make my needs known. I wanted Cate, needed her riding my cock, but I doubted that would happen.

Eventually, I pulled back and brushed her lips with the back of my knuckles. “You’re so beautiful.”

She bowed her head at the compliment, and I lifted her chin with my finger.

“I mean it.” The tattoo of her name burned on my chest as a reminder of the commitment I’d already made to this girl. I was all-in.

“Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” She reached over and ruffled my hair.

We relaxed and laughed together as we fed each other strawberries. Side by side, we lay back on the blanket and talked some more while I stroked her arm. She nestled her head against my shoulder, and I told her more about growing up with a single mom in a trailer park. She talked about her dad and how much he meant to her. Her sisters sounded like bitches, and her mom was an even worse piece of shit.

It wasn’t until her phone pinged that we noticed how late it was. It was close to ten o’clock, and she said she had to meet a friend.

“What?” Bewildered, I poked her side and tried to make fun of the situation, even though jealousy burned a hole in my gut. “Who? A booty call?”

She turned an evil eye on me. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not. I guess, just jealous,” I nervously admitted.

“Well, it’s a friend who is a girl, and I promised to help her with something.”

“Who?”

“You don’t know her.”

What the fuck?

“Can you take me back now?” Cate ran her hands down her pants, straightening her clothes. “I had a great time, but this isn’t something I can back out of now.”

“Sure,” I said abruptly, not bothering to push my anger from my tone.

And when she turned away, for a second I thought I saw tears glistening in her eyes.

Catie

F
or a second or a few hours, I’d felt myself slipping into the warmth of Blane Steele, and then I wasn’t. Angry and frustrated, I stomped into the warehouse at eleven p.m. like a bitch in heat. My libido was up, my feelings low.

Frank looked hard and long at me. “What’s wrong, Ari?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure you’re good to go?” He stilled, watching me move toward a dressing table.

“I’m fucking fine, Frank.”

“Okay, short stuff.”

I flipped him off and tossed my tote on the counter. Then I dropped onto a seat in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection.

Jesus, I was a porn sensation.
Me!
Yeah, I loved dressing like a Jersey girl, but this was insane.

For the first time since I’d gotten myself tangled up in this cockeyed plan, reality hit me hard. It landed in my belly, a hard pit of satisfaction coated in regret. I was proving what I believed to be true, yet destroying the only good thing I’d ever had.

But I never really had Blane.
Right?

Shit. Enough!

I tugged on my wig and checked my reflection as I tucked in stray wisps of my own hair. Then I ripped off my sweatshirt, leaving just my camisole. I snatched one of the skin-colored pieces of tape off the table and turned to see my tattoo in the mirror.

He was a stealer, all right; he’d basically stolen my heart during the course of one picnic.

Frowning, I smoothed the tape over the tattoo so there would be no way to identify me in the video, and then I swiped on my makeup.

With my boobs pushed up high, nearly bursting out of my cami, I walked onto the set wearing tight jeans and knee-high boots. Sarina came in next wearing a similar outfit, although she would be taking hers off. I was just going to remove my top and bra so Big Bryan could come all over me . . . after fucking Sarina in every hole.

I found it hard to plaster a smile on my face this evening. It was better when I had isolated myself. There were less people to hurt when I didn’t have connections outside my adult-film family. Sarina had become more of a sister than my own; I couldn’t leave her in the dust.

I was on a mission to prove many of these women weren’t the cheap, tawdry sluts we believed them to be. They were women, sisters, moms, and aunts just like all of us, and this was their job, their way of putting food on the table, paying the bills, and placing presents under the Christmas tree.

“One, two, three . . . live set now. Quiet, please,” Frank shouted, and that was our cue to begin.

We shot the movie in two takes, and as I was leaving, Sarina insisted on giving me a lift so I wouldn’t have to take the bus.

“You okay?” she asked as we stopped outside my building.

“Yeah,” I said softly.

“It’s normal to have doubts about what we do,” she said, apparently reading my mind.

I shook my head and sniffed back a tear.

Sarina reached out to pat my shoulder. “This weekend, I want to bring a few other girls over to your place. They said it would be okay for you to interview them. Lisa’s parents tossed her out like garbage when she got pregnant at sixteen. Brittany is like you, a college student who pays her tuition and expenses with the money. She sees this as the ultimate freedom of speech, and is looking forward to meeting you. And then there’s Chantae, a lifer. She got into the biz with her ex-husband and never left. She has three boys.”

“Wow.”

A smile crossed my face. This was exactly what I wanted, to prove my theories, and Sarina was providing me with firsthand accounts.

“Thanks, Ri. Seriously, I can never pay you back for this.” I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek before I got out of the car to brave the cold.

“Hey,” she called to me. “When you’re famous, don’t forget me.”

Then she drove away, heading home to crawl into her own bed for only a few hours’ sleep before her son awoke.

Saturday came faster than I expected.

Of course, I’d sneaked into the field house the night before and watched the game before heading to film. I hid out in Section 305, so there was no chance of Blane seeing me, but he’d texted after the game anyway.

BLANE
: Were you there? I swear I could smell you.

CATIE
: LOL. Yes. Great game! Loved the dunk in the second half. The one with the and-one.

BLANE
: That guy hacked the hell out of my hand, but thanks. Where did you sit?

CATIE
: Never. The section number will die with me.

Truth was, I couldn’t take his eyes stroking me before heading out to tape. I didn’t like being duplicitous, even if this was only a fling to him. In a few short months, his opinion had come to matter to me, and this wasn’t something I could explain.

BLANE
: I’ll be distracted during the next game looking for you.

CATIE
: No way. I’ve seen you. You’re all about ball on the court.

BLANE
: Just wait and see. Do you have time for dinner Saturday?

CATIE
: Maybe. I could do a late one.

Frank would be off tomorrow night, so I didn’t have to work. But the girls were coming over in the afternoon, and I didn’t want to rush them.

BLANE
: Deal. I’ll grab you around eight?

CATIE
: OK.

BLANE
: We’re going to go to a restaurant and not break into anyone’s home.

CATIE
: I knew that was all a lie! Boosters, my ass—we were trespassing!

BLANE
: That’s for me to know. See you tomorrow, shortie.

CATIE
: Don’t you dare call me that, Jolly Green Giant.

BLANE
: LMAO.

That was yesterday. Now I raced around my small apartment and straightened up for my company, wondering what they would think of me. Would they accept me?

As I fluffed the pillows on my bed, the doorbell rang.

I pulled the door open to find a diverse group of women in the hallway—tall and short, busty and rail-thin, some wearing makeup and others not. Bright lipstick glared from one highly made-up face, while another woman’s head was covered by a scarf.