Sidelined: A Wilde Players Dirty Romance (23 page)

Good lord! “Oh, no!” My laugh is shaky. “It’s definitely not you. Actually, it’s nothing, really.” I rub my arms as I glance at the napkin on my lap. Why did I have to think about that dreadful night?

“Come on, Cate. You looked like an assassin from one of those Jason Bourne movies a few seconds ago.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. Spill it.” His grin is disarming.

“No. You’ll think I’m awful.” The last thing I’m going to do is tell him about dickwad.

“Only if it involved me,” he says.

“It didn’t but I can’t tell you. It’s of a highly personal nature.”

“Well, I hope to god I never put that look on your face.”

“I hope you don’t either. Let me just say it had to do with killer bees.”

“Killer bees. I’ll remember that. On another note, how about some killer dessert?”

As long as it has to do with your V, sure.
“Okay. What are you having?”

“Their tiramisu is the best.”

“Wanna share?”

“Nope. I’m too greedy when it comes to sweets.”

“I love an honest man. Make it two then.” The waiter takes our order and when they are delivered, Drew was right. It is some kind of tasty. But I bet his V is better. Why am I being such a horn dog tonight? I’m on my second spoonful, and his dish is empty. His arm extends across the tiny square table and he dips his spoon into mine.

His dessert thievery makes me laugh. “Damn, you really are greedy.”

“Sorry. I’m surprised my teeth aren’t the size of giant Chicklets. I have an enormous sweet tooth.”

“Eat away.” Why am I flirting?

He waggles his brows again and says, “I’m hoping to.”

I nearly spit out the bite of tiramisu I’ve just taken. He turns a bit pink again, which I find most charming, and says, “Sorry. That was a bit inappropriate.”

I swallow to avoid choking, and reply, “No. I don’t mind inappropriate. You just caught me by surprise.” By the time I’m ready for another bite of my dessert, I find my dish is empty. He gives me a guilty look. And for some reason, I want to pinch his cheek and tell him it’s okay. How weird is that? I’m usually not a giggly, pinch the cheek kind of girl. Now that I think of it, I’m normally not a share my dessert kind of girl, either.

“I’m sorry I stole your tiramisu.”

“It’s okay. You did me a favor.”

“How’s that?”

“I didn’t need all those extra calories.”

“Oh, god, please tell me you’re not one of those?” He sits back and inspects me.

“One of what?” I’m truly baffled.

“The rabbit eaters. Girls who eat like rabbits.”

“No, I couldn’t survive without pizza. You can probably tell.”

“I can tell you look perfect to me.”

Uh huh. They all say that when they want to get in your pants.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. But come on. Most guys are only interested in one thing.”

“True. But Cate, I’m not most guys.”

I laugh. “Now that’s an original line.”

“Shit. That was a bad one, wasn’t it?”

“Not the worst I’ve ever heard.” We both chuckle.

“So, Cate Forbes, are you up for going out for a drink with me?”

“Yeah. One question. Where do you live?”

That adorable smile reappears and he says, “Indy. But don’t worry. I booked a hotel room for the night. I was thinking we might be out late and I didn’t want to deal with the hour drive.”

That was sweet. “Where are you staying?”

“At the Union.”

“Cool. Then let’s hit it.”

We decide on a club called Chuckie’s. On the way, Drew leans toward me and asks, “Cate, since you’re not twenty-one, are you going to be able to get in the clubs?”

I wave my hand in the air. “No worries. I’m a resourceful college student. I have a fake ID.”

“I figured as much, since you were Jenna’s friend.”

When we arrive at Chuckie’s, we head straight for the bar. Drew orders us a couple of drinks—a vodka and soda for me and a vodka and tonic for him—and hunts for a place to hang out. He grabs my arm and leads me across the room to a small table close to the dance floor. “I’m surprised we found this.”

“I know. Score.” I fist bump him and then we clank our glasses. The music blares as people dance and I scan the room, checking to see if I recognize anyone.

I don’t spot anyone and focus on Drew’s gorgeous eyes instead. He stares at me like I’m interesting. It’s not a bit awkward. No one’s ever made me feel special before, but when he looks at me, that’s exactly how I feel. I grin, then sip my vodka and soda.

“If you keep watching me, I’ll think I have something stuck on my face.”

He folds his arms and leans on the table to get closer to me. “I’m trying to be good and not kiss you like I want to here in front of everyone.”

“Maybe I want you to kiss me,” I say brazenly.

He’s about to call my bluff when the next thing I know, the waitress places two shots in front of us. Drew pays and I pick one up.

“Did you do this?”

The side of his mouth curves up in a sexy grin. “Guilty. I knew you liked vodka so I figured a couple of lemon drops might be fun.”

“I love lemon drops. Are you trying to get me drunk, Drew McKnight?”

“I’m trying real hard to get
you
, Cate Forbes, by any means possible.”

I don’t need vodka, because I’m drunk on him. He’s easy to be around and I’m so comfortable with him, as if we’ve known each other for years and not hours.

“Here’s to lemons, vodka, and um, drops!”

Drew’s wide grin has me grinning right back. Damn, the guy is just too gorgeous for my own good. Or is it for his own good? We clink our tiny shooters and drink them. It goes down far too easy. Then
I Gotta Feeling
by The Black Eyed Peas comes on.

I fly out of my seat, feeling unabashed. Running to the dance floor like a loon, high on life and Drew, I start shaking it up. The alcohol has loosened me up and I decide to put on a little show. Drew sits and I dance just for him, swinging my hips and spinning around. I wobble a few times, but correct myself, giving Drew a thumbs up, showing him it was a move I did on purpose. He laughs, and gives me an air fist bump. When the song ends, I shake my hair and head back to our table.

“You’re quite the prancer, Cate.”

“Yeah, it’s one of my secret talents. You’re a lucky guy, Drew. Most people aren’t aware of this hidden ability.” I lean close to his ear and say, “I’m the stealth dancer.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“Yep. I have moves.”

“I’m sure you do, but I have to share something with you.”

“Yeah, what?”

“I have secret moves, too, Cate.”

“Ah, I bet you do.”

A slow song plays and Drew takes my wrist, spins me, and says, “Like now. How about a dance, twinkle toes?”

I’m out on the floor and in his arms before I can think about it. And it’s nice. No, it’s perfect. His arms hold me close, much closer than any average acquaintance. The fact is, I’d like to move my hand off his shoulder and tangle my fingers in his hair instead. He smells nice. Not too strong, but fresh and clean, and I’d like to tuck my face into the base of his neck and snuggle right here on the dance floor. My hand rests in his, but then he changes things. He shifts his so that our fingers lace. That tiny movement makes my stomach muscles clench, and I find that I desperately want him to kiss me. I lean back so I can look at him only to find him staring at me. There is no laughter on his face, only serious intent etched around his eyes. The song suddenly ends and we stand there, stuck in each other’s gazes as a faster paced one begins. Drew doesn’t speak, but leads me off the floor with his arm over my shoulder. When we get back to the table, he says, “Thank you for that dance, Cate.” He leans in and kisses my cheek.

We drink and dance some more. And I have way too much fun. So much fun that Drew practically has to drag me out of there. Luckily he drove his car to the Union parking garage after dinner and we walked to Chuckie’s from there. Now we have to walk home. I love being with this man. I don’t want the night to end. And I tell him.

“This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“And to think you called me gramps.” His elbow nudges me.

“Who knew gramps was so sexy?”

It’s late September and the night has gotten chilly. My arms hug my middle, and Drew’s arm is draped over my shoulder. But I want more. I want both arms to be around me and I want to taste him. So my devious mind goes to work, and I pretend to stumble on an imaginary something or other. It works beautifully. He reaches for me, hands on my hips, to stabilize me, and we stand facing each other. My arms circle his neck and he dips his head until our lips graze against each other’s. It’s not enough for me. I want more of Drew McKnight. I want all of Drew McKnight. But I’m not the most experienced so I let him lead.

He leans back and whispers, “Tell me this is okay.”

“It’s way more than okay.”

His mouth presses to mine, tentatively at first, testing the waters. His lips, which are soft yet firm, nip at mine, and then his tongue peeks out. He runs it along my bottom lip and I open my mouth. Suddenly, we’re kissing. Aggressively kissing. He pulls my body up against his, arms wrap tightly around me, his head slants, and the kiss deepens. He explores my mouth as his body presses fully against mine. I feel his hardness and strength through the thin fabric of my dress. My body becomes a live wire—goosebumps erupt from my neck to my ankles; my belly clenches; my nipples stiffen; and for the first time in my life, I get wet. From a kiss. Holy sexy hell.

We’re moving. Drew lifts me up and we’re moving as we kiss. I’m not sure where, and I don’t care, as long as he doesn’t stop kissing me. When my back hits something, we stop. Every time he takes a breath, he nips my lips, making me want more. Then one hand slides down to my hip and squeezes as he grasps me tighter, pressing me to his body. He jerks his mouth away from mine.

“Fuck. Cate. Catelyn. Cate, Cate, Cate.” A litany of Cates.

Then his mouth is back on mine for only a second and I moan in protest when he pulls away. The thought occurs to me that this is more than a mere kiss. My body tingles and my knees are weak. My fingers sink into his shoulders so I don’t crash to the sidewalk. This is something poems are written about and erotic novels are penned over. I am wet between my thighs and the only things he’s touched other than my face are my mouth and hip. Once more his lips find mine and passionately kiss me, tongue sliding against mine, turning my stomach into a knotted frenzy and making my head spin. This time when he stops, it takes me a second to collect myself.

“Come to my room with me. Please. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I swear. I just want to hold you. And stare at you. And wake up with you. And maybe I sound like some pussy whipped bitch, but I’m not ready to send you home.”

My brows must hit my hairline and I giggle. Only because I’m drunk—drunk on his kisses. I hate giggly girls, but the idea of him being a pussy whipped bitch makes me die laughing.

“Yes. Okay, I’ll come. But I won’t fuck you,” I blurt out.

“No. No fucking at all. Not one tiny little bit of fucking. I solemnly swear. Scout’s honor. God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

This man is perfect. He’s like my dream guy. And to think I almost didn’t go out with him! I wasn’t looking for this but what a huge mistake that would’ve been. He links our hands and we walk back to his room. I hope this is real and not the alcohol making me feel this way. I stop for a second and pinch my arm.

“What’s wrong? Did a bug bite you?”

“No. I only wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.” And in an instant, his arms wrap around me, his mouth hovering over mine.

“You’re not dreaming, Cate. This is the real deal.” And he kisses me again, stealing every bit of my air away. When he finally breaks the kiss off, I run my fingers over his lips.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why I didn’t jump at the chance to go out with you? What the hell was wrong with me?” Then I realize I’m sounding stupid and I’ve said the words out loud. I need to shut my mouth before I scare the poor man away.

“That’s why I had that goal, Cate.”

“I have a confession to make,” I say, as we start walking again.

“Yeah?”

“I tripped on purpose. I wanted an excuse to touch you.”

He stops, and faces me.

“Seriously?”

I nod and he kisses me again. “I knew when I saw you at that party, we were going to click.” Soon, the Union looms in front of us and I’m suddenly nervous. What if we get naked? Oh, no! I haven’t done any muffin-scaping. No shaving or waxing. Nada! I look like an overgrown grizzly down below. Oh fuck! What am I going to do? This is so unexpected; I never imagined we’d get past dinner! Maybe I can sneak into the bathroom and use his razor. But then I look at his face and remember he’s sporting a bit of scruff, so I doubt he even brought one for the night. Shit-doodle.

“What is it? Please don’t say you’re having second thoughts. I promise Cate, we can just sit and talk. I only want to spend time with you.”

“I know. I trust you, Drew.” And oddly enough, I do.

As my thoughts travel back to the possibilities, it comes to me. I can say I don’t get naked ever on first dates. Yes. That’s it. Perfectly reasonable and acceptable. We make it to his room and he asks if I care for something to drink. I ask for a water. In minutes, one is in my hand, which I greedily drink.

The way he stares at me, I’m guessing he knows I’m nervous.

“You have regrets, don’t you?”

I shake my head. “It’s not that.”

“Please tell me. I don’t want anything to weigh on your mind.”

My stupid, stupid mouth blurts right out, “I look like an overgrown grizzly below the waist.”

“Huh?”

I suppose being a man, he just doesn’t understand. So I raise my index finger and then aim it directly between my thighs.

It’s obvious when the light bulb goes on because he smiles. Hugely. “It’s fine. I didn’t plan on us getting naked, anyway.”

Okay, so I just told him my deepest darkest most humiliating secret—well almost most humiliating—for nothing? I embarrassed myself to death, for no purpose whatsoever? I want to crawl in a hole and die. I do the only thing I know. I grab the nearest pillow and bury my face in it. The most beautiful man I’ve ever met, with the most gorgeous eyes on the planet, sits before me, and I just told him that my muffin looks like Sasquatch. This goes down as the most humiliating moment of my life, replacing the dickwad. I will never live this down. Ever.