Page 39 of Forbidden Bond

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I like my women sober. Trust me, princess, if we fucked, you’d remember it.”

A blush tinges her cheeks at that. I slide out of bed and into my closet to pull a shirt over my head. Katherine’s eyes track my movements, assessing me quietly.

“You hungry?” I ask her.

She nods and I leave the room, letting her freshen up while I head into the kitchen to prepare us some breakfast. Last night was a roller coaster. I’m not sure just how much she remembers. I’m not sure I even want her to remember. Because her remembering would lead to questions, and I don’t think either of us has any answers. At least not now.

Katherine’s pleasantly surprised when she steps out of the room to find a spread of toast and eggs and some juice on the table. She gives me a quizzical look.

“You do not seem like the kind of man that can cook.”

I shrug. “I’m full of surprises, princess. You, on the other hand, seem like exactly the kind of woman that can’t.” She scowls. “Go on, prove me wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being unable to cook,” she says, taking a seat at the table.

“There are so many things wrong with it. But I’ll lay off you,” I state, taking a seat as well. “What do you remember from last night?”

She avoids my eyes, taking a sip of the juice.

“Katherine.”

“I don’t remember much, okay? I’m drawing a blank from the moment you told me you were in a boy band when you were twelve,” she says, grinning.

I smile, too. The boy band was basically my brothers and a few cousins, but our parents dutifully came to watch us, applauding at the end of our show. It’s one of my favorite memories.

“So that’s all you remember?”

“Yes. Did I do something stupid?” she asks nervously.

I shake my head, relieved. “No.”

“Alright. So we’re good, right?”

“Sure,” I tell her easily. If I’m the only one that remembers, there’s no reason to bring it up. “We’re good, princess.”

Katherine leaves soon after, to go and check on Jameson. I spend the rest of the morning thinking about her and last night.

* * *

Later that week, Katherine arrives at work with a huge grin and beelines straight for me. Ever since our sleepover, our dynamic has shifted a little. Before, we were just playacting at being friends, but being with her feels genuine now. While it’s not friendship, it’s pretty damn close. And Katherine seems intent on pretending it’s not more than that.

“Look what I got,” she sings, pulling some tickets from an envelope. “You want to go to a movie premiere? Jameson’s dad got him two tickets for his birthday so he could take me, but he’s insisting he’d rather spend the night partying.”

“So he could take you?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?”

“Why would he assume Jameson would take you?”

“Because I’m his best friend?”

I arch an eyebrow, calling bullshit.

“Alright fine,” Katherine sighs. “His dad keeps trying to get us into a relationship.”

I roll my eyes.

“We’ve told him several times that we aren’t compatible, but Ricky’s a hopeless romantic. He’s holding onto hope that his best friend’s daughter and his son will have a love story for the ages.”

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