“Did you like that?” he asks, hot breath blowing over my cheek. “Because fuck baby, I had no idea.”
I merely giggle, clenching him tight with my bottom and making him groan.
“I loved it,” I coo in a throaty voice. “In fact, I’d love to do it again. If you’re game, that is, big boy.”
And judging from the flash in those blue eyes, Tate Connor is more than game. The wealthy man’s ready to go, and sure enough, within moments the bear skin rug’s getting another hot dose of our love.
6
Laurelin
* * *
Three months later.
“Look at him go!” Rachel cries.
I watch as Toodles zooms around our apartment, dashing up and over a chair, clawing his way up his cat tree before leaping off of it. I laugh delightedly, and Rachel, flipping the view of her phone back to a front-facing view, grins.
“He’s doing so great,” Rachel prompts with a delighted smile. “Who knew I’d be such a great cat mama?”
Tears sting my eyes unexpectedly.
“You are a great cat mama,” I confirm gently. “Thank you.” I feel horrible leaving my pet with my roommate for three months, but I send Rach money to care for him, and although she grumbled at first, now things have done a one eighty. In fact, Rach says she’s grown to enjoy Toodles’s company, when he’s not trying to eat her plants at least.
But I miss my cat. He’s one of the few constants in my life, and I wish Toodles could come live with Tate and me in this townhouse. Maybe I could just bring him over one day and say he’s a stray I picked up off the street? Or lie and say he followed me home from the park? I haven’t been able to figure out the right approach yet, but I plan to do something very soon. I want my cat and my man, and a girl shouldn’t have to choose.
Nonetheless, it’s astonishing that I’ve been living with Tate for three months now. It’s been three months since that impossible day when Tate mistook me for a waif and plucked me off the streets. Three months since he took me into his home and lured me into a scandalous arrangement. Three months since we first had earth-shattering, teeth-rattling sex. We’ve enjoyed each other’s bodies almost every day since then and it’s magnificent. I assumed that Tate had a voracious sexual appetite, but I’m surprised by my own. Who knew I needed it so much? But I guess when you’re in the arms of a gorgeous, charismatic man, everything changes.
I’m surprised, too, that I’m enjoying this unorthodox life far more than I anticipated. I’d only planned to stay for a few days, but then a few days turned into a week, and a week turned into months. I admit, I’ve enjoyed reading the books in his library, and watering the plants in the kitchen. I enjoy wandering through his living room, trailing my fingertips over his furniture, before settling down in the sitting room for a relaxing cup of tea.
But it hasn’t all been play. I’ve continued handing out sandwiches in the park, and have even started volunteering at the nearest shelter most weekends (luckily, it’s the one where Marla has been staying). I know I could have done all these things from my own home, and using my true identity too, but something about doing it with Tate in my life has made all the difference. He praises me for my efforts, although of course, he thinks I’m doing it because I was once a vagrant myself.
As a result, guilt continues to gnaw at my insides like a hungry monster. Tate and I have gotten to know each other well, and I’ve lied as little as possible to him, but the bottom line can’t be ignored: he still has no idea who I really am, and this charade makes a lump come to my throat. As someone with a troubled and mysterious past, I’m fascinating to my lover. But would Tate still be as interested in me if he knew my real identity? Unfortunately, I haven’t yet been brave enough to find out.
Of course, I haven’t kept everyone in the dark. I told Rachel the truth about two weeks ago, and she was scandalized at first, not to mention concerned about my safety. After all, how many women really go home with total strangers? But I explained to her that Tate’s not really a stranger because he’s my brother’s best friend. After hearing that, Rach came around to the idea, mostly because of how truly happy I’ve been. I also believe she secretly thinks it’s sexy and scandalous, as if I’m living out the plot of a romance novel.
“Earth to Laurie,” Rachel says, waving her hand in front of her camera.
I shake my head, refocusing on her face on my phone. “Sorry, Rach. Just feeling extra weird today.”