Page 68 of One Wealthy Wedding

“You’re not sure of what? Your favorite position?” Careful, Theo.

She’s fiddling with the paper, but her gaze is daring me to challenge her.

“I’m not a virgin. Stop looking at me like that.” She huffs, an annoyed puff of breath. It’s quickly becoming one of my favorite sounds. “I have had sex.”

“With whom?” The question comes out before I can stop it.

She squints at me. “I’m not telling you that.”

“He must not have been very good at it, if you don’t know what you like.” The thought makes me swallow down anger. Cat deserves more.

“We were young,” she protests.

And now I’m picturing some pimple-faced prick fondling her in his car and not knowing what to do. It should have been me. I stop the thought before it can go anywhere. It could never have been me. Cat never wanted me. Not like I wanted her. A walk on the wild side, a good lay, a pretty face. That’s me.

Her cheeks are getting pink. “I’ll figure it out.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “How?”

“You know.” She gestures vaguely. “One day.”

“With whom?” Something ugly claws at me. I have no claim on Cat, but that imaginary man whispering in her ear suddenly seems all too fucking real.

“I don’t know. A stranger I meet in a bar?” She shrugs. “Not a boyfriend, that’s for sure.”

“Not one for commitment?” I cock my head. That’s not what I would have expected for Cat. She’s an inveterate good girl. “I would have assumed you wanted a neat house and a nice husband. Missionary sex and maybe a blindfold if you wanted to spice it up.”

“An easy life, you mean.” She cuts me a glance that tells me what she thinks about that. “I told you. I don’t want to be married. I meant it. I want to live. I want to travel. I want to do all the things I didn’t do for years. So yes, maybe I will fuck a stranger I meet in a bar.”

“Works for me,” I say darkly.

“What’s good for the goose, they say.” She narrows her eyes.

I smile blandly back.

“What’s your favorite position?” she asks.

“It’s so hard to choose,” I say, pretending to think. “I like when a woman rides my face.”

Cat bites her lip, like she’s picturing riding my face.

Blood is rushing south. This was a mistake.

“I like it from behind, where I can control the depth, the angle, the force, more easily.”

Cat’s eyes widen, and her gaze flicks down to where I’m already half-hard under my pants.

“You like it rough,” she says. Her voice sounds strangled.

“Yeah, I do.” I sit back and let her picture it. I can tell she is, from the expression on her face and her pink cheeks. “I like when she’s restrained. Not with ropes or something. With my hands. I like when she’s pinned and all she can do is take it.”

Cat’s breath stutters. I’m getting to her.

“Why?” she asks. Her voice sounds strangled.

“Why? What do you mean why? Because it’s hot. Because it might look like taking, but instead, I’m giving.”

“Giving?” She frowns.

---