Girl Next Door - The Complete Series (18 page)

After the double feature was over, Patrick hooked an arm around my shoulders and walked me out to the car. If I hadn’t been so creeped out by the movies and looking in every shadow and corner for a knife-wielding psycho, I would have pulled away. As it was, I was glad to have a human shield. It was late when we got back to Nat’s house. Between all the Cajun food, candy, and popcorn, I was ready to lapse into a food coma. Patrick helped me out of the Camaro and again put his arm around me as we went up the front walk. By the time we reached the front door, I was beginning to feel quite warm. This was the most he’d touched me since we’d gotten hot and heavy in Nat’s living room. Wait a minute, he said he wouldn’t lay a hand on me. I was about to pull away when he released my shoulders and grabbed my hand.

Patrick led me up on the front porch, still holding my keys in his other hand, and unlocked the front door. I was still off-kilter from being pressed against the warmth of his body, but not so much that I didn’t ask, “Can you come in and check the closets and under the beds?”

He stared at me for a moment, speechless, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. I don’t think I’d ever seen him laugh like that, and Patrick was laid back and quick to smile and chuckle when something tickled his sense of humor, but this laugh came straight from his gut.

“Sure, Cat. No problem,” he chuckled again. “I think that’s the most interesting invitation I’ve ever received after going out with a woman.”

I stilled. I didn’t want him to take that as invitation. Did I? I shook my head. The food trance from all the dinner and the movie snacks was messing with my head.

He made a quick sweep of the house and when he came back to the foyer, which I’d refused to leave while he checked out all the closets and under the beds. His slightly suggestive remark seemed to be forgotten and he was back to acting like a buddy. He was sticking to his word to take things slowly. I didn’t understand why my brain was reading into everything he said. Still, I tended to over-obsess anyway.

“Okay, wimp, there are no monsters, ghosts, masked maniacs, or crispy critters anywhere in this house. I think you’re safe for another night.” He made no bones about the fact that he was laughing at me.

I ignored his sarcasm and his teasing. I would definitely be sleeping with the lamp on for another few days. “Go ahead and make fun, Mr. Domestic, but the horror double feature was your idea and now you have to pay the price.”

Still grinning, Patrick tugged on my ponytail. “Lock up behind me, okay?”

I nodded and walked him to the door. After he shut it behind him, I twisted the deadbolt and checked the rest of the doors and windows in the house to be sure they were locked as well. Okay, it may have seemed over the top, but paranoia could prevent many potential crimes. I realized when I was getting ready for bed that I’d had a great time with Patrick that evening and we hadn’t even fought once. I’d actually enjoyed his company. All our bickering and banter had been in good fun and I had not once felt real anger or irritation. Our verbal battles had ceased for the evening and I’d actually liked my evening with Patrick. I rolled into bed on a sigh and smacked myself in the forehead. Not good, not good. I wasn’t supposed to
like
the guy. He wasn’t my type, and he was still all tangled up with his ex. He had been the enemy and now he felt more like a friend.

Despite my words to Patrick, I fell asleep easily. I slept deeply and well, not encountering a single nightmare or spectre of the bad guys from the movies. However, I did leave the lamp beside the bed, as well as several others, burning all night long.

I slept hard and deep. I had the next day off, since I worked twelve hour shifts three days at the hospital, followed by three days off. I woke up at eight and rolled out of bed, full of energy. Unfortunately, my curse of clumsiness struck early. I managed to trip on something invisible in the kitchen and bruise my hip and elbow against the counter. All this was pre-coffee. I scraped myself off the floor, brewed a pot of coffee, and started rummaging for breakfast.

A half hour later, I was a lot more awake and full of toast and marmalade. I had a huge to-do list for my day off. I spent an intense hour at the gym, sweating out all the junk food I’d eaten. After a quick shower at the gym, I met Michael for pedicures, some serious shopping, and sushi. While we are at the salon, Michael was asking me about housesitting and threatening to set up a kegger for the weekend. He said something about floating the empty keg in the pool. It had something to do with his old college days, but I tuned him out. I was pretty sure half the crap Michael told me was from a hallucination, because he’d spent most of his college career drunk or under the influence of wacky tobacky.

Michael snapped me out of a rather pleasant day dream about Joe Manganiello and he wasn’t too happy with me for ignoring him.

“Cat, dammit, are you paying attention at all?”

I blinked at Michael. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I was having a moment with a werewolf.”

He smirked at me, knowing exactly what I meant. “Well, save it for later, I wanna know if you’ve seen the very sexy Patrick Hart since you moved in.”

I scowled. “Yes, I’ve seen him nearly every damn day for the last week. He keeps showing up to bum food, or just to bug the crap out of me. I could kill Nat for not telling me that he’d moved in next door.”

Michael chuckled. He was still grinning when he spoke again. “You know our girl. She loves to mess with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked him to drop by and check on you.”

I sat straight up. “That bitch!” The poor woman working on my feet looked up at me, startled. I sank back down into the massage chair and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

She nodded and went back to massaging my feet.

Michael was still smiling when I looked back at him. “I take it Hunky Hart-boy Number 2 is making you crazy again.”

I growled at him. “Shut it, Mikey, or I’ll tell Nat you want to have a kegger at her house while she’s gone.”

He still smiled, knowing I’d instigate the entire party and never tell Nat. “Seriously, Cat, what’s the problem?”

I scowled as the nail tech used a sugar scrub on my calves. “He’s obnoxious. The first morning after the wedding, he woke me up at freakin’ eight in the morning, looking for coffee! He scared the crap out of me.”

“Whatever. You know you think he’s hot,” Michael said.

I sighed. “Of course he’s hot, but he’s not my type.”

Michael patted my arm. “Don’t lie to yourself, girl, that man is everybody’s type.”

I refused to respond to that remark. He merely grinned and let the subject drop because he knew he’d made his point. After our pedicures, we ate a ton of sushi and headed out to the mall for a shopping marathon.

For the next four hours, Michael dragged me to every department store and shoe store in the mall. Two hours in, I was ready to go home, but he refused to leave until he found a shirt in the perfect shade of purple. This search continued for another two hours. Seriously, nothing on this planet, short of a wedding dress, was worth four hours of shopping in a single day.

Finally, I dragged Michael, whining and struggling, out of the mall. I hugged my favorite gay good-bye and went home. It wasn’t quite dinner time, so I made a huge mojito and dragged my bags up to the guest room. I cut tags off clothing and a few sexy pieces of lingerie that Michael had snuck into my bags when I wasn’t looking. I threw everything in the washer, the lacy undies in a lingerie bag, and chugged the last of my mojito. Then I made another to take upstairs and drink while I took a bubble bath in Nat’s fantastic tub.

I lazed in the fragrant, hot water for almost an hour, enjoying my drink and a very sexy novel on my e-reader. I almost didn’t need to warm up the water, because the love scenes and chemistry in the book were that steamy. By the time I finished my soak, I was very, very horny. A session with my vibrator was in my near future. I dried off and walked out of the bathroom naked, because my skin was too hot and a robe would have been stifling. My head was buried in a towel while I dried my hair.

I heard the rustle of fabric, and not that of my towel, and froze. I looked up and Patrick was standing in the doorway, staring at me. All of me. I quickly wrapped the towel around my body, wishing it were quite a bit bigger.

“Dammit, Patrick, can’t you knock or call or something before you just show up?”

He didn’t respond, just looked at me like my towel wasn’t even there.

I walked toward the dresser to get clothes, ignoring him. I was digging through a drawer, picking out underwear when I felt his hand on my shoulder. I turned to him, throwing my hair out of my face.

“Why exactly are you here, Patrick?” My heart was beating hard and fast. I could feel the throb in my neck and temple. I didn’t want to like his hand on my bare skin, but my body was ignoring my brain.

His green eyes narrowed on me and he tangled his fingers through my wet hair. I was beginning to freak out even more, because he stepped closer and pulled my hair so my head tilted back. It was almost painful. I clutched my towel closer to my chest and swallowed. I knew what that look meant and, after my session with the e-reader in the tub, I felt that look in my hooha.

“I came to see you,” he said. He smiled a little, but his eyes stayed hot. “And I got to see quite a bit of you.”

I wanted to roll my eyes and make some smart ass remark, but my tongue wouldn’t work. He was looking at me like he was planning to eat me alive. I’d never seen Patrick display strong emotions. Even when we were constantly trading verbal barbs and engaging in a battle of wits, he’d been good natured and laid back. Patrick smiled readily and easily and I liked that he laughed often. Even when he was dealing with his ex, he remained calm and in control.

Now, his face and eyes were intense and he looked determined. I opened my mouth, frantically trying to think of some way to get him to back off, but he stopped me by tracing my lips with a fingertip. Well, to be honest, he didn’t have to try very hard to stop me. I felt that touch all the way from my hooha to my scalp and goosebumps broke out all over my body.

Holy moly, I changed my mind. My hormones were now in charge, brain cells be damned. If he tried to leave now, I was going to chase him down and tackle him in the hallway. If one small touch to my mouth made me feel like that, I wanted to see what his hands could make the rest of me feel like. I inched closer and his hand tightened in my hair, pulling me up to my toes. I watched his face come closer to mine, my breath catching. I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to, as I met his eyes. When his lips touched mine, my eyelids drifted shut. I would have been blind, even with them open, because all I could think or feel was his kiss. Patrick tried to keep it light. I could feel him holding back and, being a perverse person, I wanted to push him. Just like when we bickered, I constantly pushed the boundaries of outrageousness, looking for his limits.

I tried to do the same thing with the kiss. It backfired. When I licked my way into his mouth and then started nipping him with my teeth, I was suddenly flying through the air. I landed on the bed with a bounce, barely realizing that he had kept a grip on my towel to rip it off my body, and then he was on me. His hands and mouth were rougher, like he was fighting not to lose control, and I freaking loved it.

I yanked his shirt up to his armpits, and he reached over his head, grasped the fabric between his shoulder blades, and tore it over his head. I ran my hands down his sides, pressing my chest and belly against him. The sensation of his bare skin against mine was incredible, especially since my body was still a little damp from my bath and chilled. He was so much warmer than me, it felt like he was about to burst into flames.

When I started working on his belt and the front of his pants, Patrick’s hands brushed mine away. He stood up next to the bed, kicking of his boots, and shoving his pants and boxer briefs down his legs. I sat up and ran my palms over his chest and abdomen. When I sank my teeth into his pectoral, he swore and shoved me down onto the bed. His hands were everywhere, starting with my breasts, then down between my legs. His fingers ran over my clit, making me gasp and arch my back. Then he pushed them slowly inside me. Any coherent thoughts I had flew out of my head. I used my lips and teeth where his neck met his shoulder and pressed into his hand.

He pulled away, and I made an unhappy sound and panted a little. When his mouth made its way to my nipples, I arched my back and my unhappy sounds became very, very happy. As his lips moved lower, all the muscles in my lower abdomen clenched. Firm hands pressed my thighs further apart and his mouth reached its target. Patrick’s tongue was firm on its first pass over my clit and my hips jerked when he slid two fingers inside me again. The sudden onslaught of sensation was a shock and I felt it all the way to my toes.

The tension in my lower belly grew as his mouth and hand worked me hard. He wasn’t rough, but he also wasn’t gentle. Everything he was doing was confident and purposeful. Patrick was pushing me toward orgasm like it was his sole focus. I shifted restlessly under his hands, and he stopped using his fingers to fuck me and gripped my hips, holding my ass down to the bed. The sensations were so intense that the noises I made actually hurt my throat.