Page 46 of Catching Mr. Right

Chapter Nineteen

MANDY

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I always know what I’m doing.

It’s just right now, in Cas’s arms, in his bed, and with his cock still buried inside me, I’ve never been more uncertain. Or felt so good.

I’m following a plan. This was the strategy. Get Sam Sweets to fall for me, to want to date me, and eventually want more. Get Cas to help me land Mister Right by faking a relationship, have him take my virginity. All we’re doing is following the goals outlined at the beginning. Okay, well not all the goals we outlined. The virginity thing wasn’t supposed to be part of the pact Cas and I made, but then I went and told Sam I was a big girl who wasn’t as innocent as he thought she was. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t naïve. I wasn’t blind about what I was hoping for. I just had that annoying hymen issue. Okay, it was more a lack of experience issue. But now I’m not so sure this is as simple as following an outline.

In fact, there’s probably never been a plan that feels less like a plan and more like, like…

Cas jostles me a bit, with one arm wrapped around my middle so that he can pull out of me. His cock feels kind of bendy and not all that deflated. I almost wiggle on him to see what will happen.

“Keep still.” He growls into my hair while his dick twitches inside me, and I do as he says. I’m not sore from the experience, maybe because I’ve shoved my vibrator up there that many times over the years it helped prepare me. I probably wouldn’t have been able to handle him otherwise.

He leaves a hot dribble of my own arousal against my thigh as his cock slaps his stomach. It starts to grow cold and sticky almost immediately.

“I have to get rid of the condom,” he whispers.

I push against his chest, collapse onto my back on the bed beside him while he rolls the rubber up, knots it, reaches over to put it in the waste basket beside the bed. His other hand finds mine, twines our fingers, squeezes. I press back.

Should I tell him that I don’t know what I’m doing? I almost did earlier. For a split second, I was going to tell him that maybe I’m wrong about what it takes to be Mister Right.

Maybe I want something bigger.

Nerves that swarm like butterflies every time we’re face to face.

Fireworks every time we kiss.

The inability to breathe when he gives me that look. The one that tells me he’s hungry for my attention. That I’m the only person he sees. That I could be the one thing on this planet that could truly make him happy.

The helplessness that fills me when I think I could be wrong about that look.

Cas stretches out on his side, propped up on his elbow, and fingers a few locks of my hair. “I love this. Fucking sexy.”

“Do you think?” It’s washable color, gone with the next shower. Like this night? Is it nothing more than a tantalizing memory I’ll look back on?

“Come on,” he says, climbing off the bed and reaching for me.

“What are we doing?” I give him my hand.

“We’re going to get cleaned up.” He leads me to the bathroom attached to his room.

“But my hair.” I wind a strand around my finger. “The color will go everywhere. You’ll think you somehow ended up in the middle of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

“Pretty sure there’s a cap in one of the drawers.” Grinning, he draws me in and shuts the door. “And a little pink has never scared me.”

Would it if he knew that I was second guessing myself? About Sam? About him?

He turns the water on and sifts through the drawers in the vanity until he crows triumphantly as he holds up a floral shower cap. “Here we go.”

Perched on the edge of the sink, he gathers my hair and pulls the plastic cap over my head, tucking the lose tendrils under the elastic. I glance over his shoulder at the unsexy get up. “Did you steal this from my grandmother’s house?”

“I think whoever stayed in this room before me probably left it. Or Claire was overly organized.” His brown eyes twinkle as he runs his gaze over me from the tip of my… shower cap to my toes.

“What do you think?” I model the stupid thing for him.

---