Catch

Chapter 50MarenWhen I unlock the door to my apartment, guilt hits me.

I spot Dudley immediately sitting in the middle of the floor.

Arietta is behind him with a mop in her hand.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

“Hi, Maren.” Her bright smile chases away some of my anxiety. “You look so good. Happy. That’s what it is. You look happy.”

I feel happy.

After spending the night with Keats, I rushed home to get ready for work. Arietta and Dudley were already gone, so I quickly showered, got dressed, and sent her a text message telling her I’d be home tonight.

It’s later than I expected, though.

I went home with Keats for dinner, but we skipped food.

We ended up in his bed for more than two hours.

I’m hungry, sore, and very satisfied.

I crouch down to pet Dudley’s head. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more to help with him.”

Arietta drags the mop over the floor. “Don’t be sorry. You’re falling in love. There’s nothing more important than that.”

I stand up. “What?”

She rests the handle of the mop against the wall. When she turns to me, I see tears in her eyes. “I know you’re falling in love with him, Maren.”

I could argue with her, but there’s no point.

It’s as though she can see into my heart because I am falling for him. I may already be in love.

“I’m happy for you.” She rushes toward me. “If he’s good to you, I am so happy.”

“He’s good to me,” I affirm with a brisk nod of my head. “We have so much fun together.”

She scratches her brow. “More fun than you’ve ever had with a guy before?”

“Way more fun.” I laugh. “It’s on another scale.”

She pulls me toward the couch with her hand. “Sit and tell me everything. Have you eaten yet?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“I saved some salmon, wild rice, and broccoli I cooked.” She sets off toward the kitchen. “You keep talking, and I’ll get the food.”

I don’t know where to start, so I jump into the middle of it. “Our work relationship is amazing, and the other stuff is next level.”

I watch as she places a white plate on the counter. “The sex is next level?”

I’ve never been shy talking about sex. “The best I’ve ever experienced.”

She smiles as she plates my food from a dish that she pulled out of the oven. “You had an orgasm with him?”

The question takes me aback. I don’t consider it too intimate to answer. I’m just shocked that she asked. “Many.”

She picks up a napkin, and a knife and a fork before she scoops up the plate.

Once the plate in on my lap, she settles next to me. “What’s that like?”

As famished as I am, I set the utensils on the plate and turn to her. “Have you never had an orgasm with a guy before?”

With a push of her glasses up her nose, she shakes her head. “No.”

Sadness ripples through me. Until Keats, I didn’t have the most considerate lovers, but they did make sure I was satisfied. With Keats, it goes beyond that. We connect in a way that enriches the pleasure.

“You need to experience that, Arietta.”

“I want to.” She nods. “I hope I will one day.”

I place the plate on the table so I can gather her hands in mine. I look her in the eyes. “Sometimes, you have to chase after those experiences. I’m not saying you should hook up with a random guy, but if you start going out, you might meet someone.”

Her hands tremble in mine. “You’re right. I’ve been looking at a few dating apps.”

I crack a wide grin. “I can help you weed through the profiles to find a guy who is perfect for you.”

She tips her chin forward. “Someone as wonderful as Mr. Morgan?”

Do other men like that exist?

I keep that comment to myself. “If you’re convinced that Dominick isn’t the man for you, you need to find someone who will see you as the gift you are.”

“I want to be a gift to someone,” she whispers.

“You will be.”

Picking up the plate, she puts it back in my lap. “Eat, Maren. You need food and rest and maybe a bubble bath to soothe those aching muscles. I’ve heard great sex makes everything hurt.”

“In the best way,” I say before I dig into the food.Chapter 51KeatsWhen I made the crucial choice of a career path, I never imagined I’d end up here. I’m in a studio with renowned photographer Noah Foster and a half a dozen dicks.

There are literally naked cocks everywhere.

Thank fuck Maren is back at the office arranging plans for our dinner tomorrow night with the Newmans.

“Keats.” Pace stalks toward me completely nude.

I close my eyes. “Cover that.”

“Covered,” he calls out.

I crack open an eye to make sure I’m not being lied to. A well-placed football helmet shields his package.