Page 73 of Slay Ride

With me, of course.

I power walk through the empty front hall, then take the stairs two at a time. If I can’t convince her to stay behind with me, I could always hold her hostage. I imagine what she’d look like tied up on the bed. Beautiful perfection. But that won’t win any brownie points with everyone else, so I scratch that idea.

As I pass her door, I give the handle a jiggle and find it unlocked. Despite her plans to spend the evening with the golden boy, it seems she hasn’t forgotten about the orchestrated rendezvous with her tarnished lover—me.

Stepping into her room, I spy an outfit sprawled across the bed, but Cat must be in the bathroom, because I don’t see her. A clatter and a curse word come from behind the closed door, confirming my suspicions. Seconds later, a blow-dryer fires up.

Since she’s occupied, I take a look around the room, trying to find a way to sabotage her and ensure she stays here. Talking would be so much easier, but again, I can’t bear the thought of seeing the pain in her eyes. I also don’t want to be the consolation prize. If I tell her the truth, it all but guarantees she’ll run right into my waiting arms, but that isn’t how I want to win.

I want to be chosen.

The bra-and-panty set on the bed catches my attention, and I step closer. I lift the tiny pink thong and run the patch of lace through my fingers. The hard-on is immediate.

I glance back at the bathroom door, wondering if I have enough time to beat my dick and force her to wear come-soaked panties on her little date, but then the cat jumps onto the bed, and I have a better idea.

No, I’m not about to beat off on the cat. I’m notthatderanged.

“Hey, Shorty,” I whisper as I step closer. “You’re about to help me make nice with your mommy.”

The humongous black cat just looks at me and flicks his tail. He takes a seat—right on Cat’s pink bra—and begins grooming his paw. His rough tongue flicks out, swipes his paw pads a few times, and darts back into his mouth. When that doesn’t quite satisfy him, he takes to gnawing at whatever is there.

“Something bugging you, buddy?” I sit beside him on the bed and take his paw into my hand. The largest pad is warmer than the rest, and a splinter pokes from the center. “Damn, that looks uncomfortable. Let me help you.”

I pull the cat into my lap, and he purrs as I pluck the splinter from his paw. Despite how disgusting and vile I find these animals, Cat loves them—this one in particular—so I kind of have to help him. Once the sliver of wood has been removed, I can’t even tell it was there in the first place.

“You’re a tough little asshole, hmm?” I scratch under his chin as the blow-dryer cuts off in the bathroom. “Looks like we need to make a move.”

Tucking the cat under my sweater, I hurry back to my room before Cat sees me in hers. Once she realizes he’s missing, she’ll cancel her plans with Maverick so that she can look for Shorty, but only if she doesn’t see me catnapping him. That’s when I’ll swoop in and save the day by “finding” him myself.

It’s one hell of a plan. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Thirty

Cat

Looking into the mirror, I drag vanilla-scented lip gloss over my mouth as I try to think of a way out of this. I can’t go with Maverick this evening. I want to spend more time with Bennett. We were finally getting somewhere, and now this happens.

But I can’t say no. It’s no secret that I had a major crush on Maverick, and as far as everyone else is concerned, I’m still hung up on him. Staying behind when he’s asked me to an activity would be suspicious as fuck.

I step out of the bathroom and head to the bed to dress. I’d hoped to find Bennett sitting on my bed by the time I finished getting ready, but I guess he changed his mind. Not that I blame him.

He probably sees this situation as me choosing Maverick over him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Bennett is the man I want. He just can’t know how badly. He can’t learn how much I miss him when he’s not around. It’s like I’ve lived my entire life with a piece missing from me, and now that I knowhow well he fits in that gaping hole, I want to be filled all the time—double entendre intended.

I just need more time, that’s all. Telling Kindra about this will be one of the most difficult conversations I’ll ever have, and Bennett’s side of things won’t be any easier. The difference is that he doesn’t care what everyone thinks.

But I do.

Black fur clings to my pale pink bra as I lift it from the bed. I give it a good shake, but it doesn’t matter anyway. No one will see me in this. Maverick might make a move, but I’ll have to play coy. Because my heart belongs to someone else now.

“Shorty, come give your mama a cuddle,” I say as I dress. “I need it.”

By the time I finish piling on clothes—including Bennett’s coat, which still smells of his cologne—Shorty hasn’t emerged. Even when I get on my hands and knees and reach for the ever reliablepspsps, he doesn’t show his adorable little face.

“You might be able to resist my charms, but you’ll never say no to treaties!” I say in a sing-song voice.

I hurry to the dresser and pull the little tube of stinky cat treats from the middle drawer. After giving them a good shake, I turn, expecting to hear heavy little paws padding toward me.

But he doesn’t appear.

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