Page 29 of Mister St. James

“Because I can’t not,” I say, barely above a whisper.

Marcus nods, satisfied. “Well, shit. I’ve never seen you this rattled.”

“She’s the only one who can do it,” I say, running my thumb along the edge of the espresso cup in front of me. “Every time I try to get myself coded back to normal, she finds a way to break it and rebuild it into something else.”

He smiles, genuine and broad. “You’re opposites, you know. She’s chaos. You’re architecture.”

I bristle, but he waves it off. “That’s not a dig. It’s why you work.” He leans forward, grabbing my shoulder as I adjust my glasses. “You don’t disappear into yourself around her, and she refuses to shrink to fit into your space. It’s the first time I’ve seen you…not alone, even when there’s a third party.”

I let the words settle. It feels true in a way I can’t engineer or control. He was spot on about everything he said. I have never had a real girlfriend. I have had many partners, sure, but none of them lasted more than a night. The only consistency I’ve ever had was at the Velvet Stag and even there I usually made sure things were purely physical.

Cat returns to the table, a fresh gloss on her lips, and the tension dissolves like a magic trick when she slides her body closer to mine. Marcus leans back, all bonhomie. “We were just talking about you,” he says.

Cat quirks an eyebrow. “All bad, I hope.”

I let my hand drift to the back of her chair, not quite touching but close enough that the intent is clear. “All good. For once.”

Marcus claps his hands together. “Well then, next round’s on me. And you…” he points to me, then to Cat, “are going to let me pick the wine this time. I want to see how you handle the expensive stuff.”

Cat winks, and I feel her squeeze my thigh under the table and I don’t know if she’s magic, or if it’s just a bug in my own system finally turned into a feature.

But what I do know is this, I don’t want to go back to the way things were before her.

Ever.

After dinner we barely made it all the way into my penthouse fully clothed. I think we might have even lost one of her shoes from the elevator to my front door, but none of that mattered. The first kiss is slow, a test, lips barely grazing, then deeper, open, teeth scraping her lower lip. Her hands come up to my shoulders, nails digging in, and I push her gently

The kiss gets harder, hungrier, as if every hour of restraint during dinner has compacted into this one point in space and time.

I move my hands down, along her waist, over the swell of her hips. I find the zippered seam of her dress and slide it down. I slip my fingers underneath, feeling the heat of her skin, the pulse at her side. She moans, just a little, and rocks her hips into me, and I’m instantly hard, my cock straining against the fabric of my pants.

She tugs at my shirt, untucking it, popping the buttons one by one until her hands are on my chest, flat against my skin. Her palms are hot, her touch greedy.

I lace my fingers through her hair and pull, leaning down to kiss the delicate sun-kissed skin of her neck while peeling the dress off her.

“So, what color should we pick tonight, Mr. St. James?” she asks, voice breathy in my ear.

“None,” I growl, hands sliding up to remove her black lace bra, my lips kissing her shoulder and collar as I move.

“None?” Cat grabs my face and pulls away, forcing our eyes to meet. Our lips so close we share breaths.

I shake my head and close the distance, kissing her again. “None. I want you like this. Just us. No games. No rules. No distractions,” I say, kissing her somewhere different to punctuate each sentence.

“Just me?” she asks again, unsure.

“Only you,” I whisper against her lips, my hands sliding down to cup her ass.

She lets me lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom. The bed is made, midnight-blue sheets, the pillows perfectly aligned, just like everything else in my life until she got here.

I set her down, and she scoots back, looking at me with a hunger that makes me want to fucking destroy her.

I strip out of the rest of my clothes, then join her on the bed. We crash together, lips and teeth, hands roaming everywhere at once. I knead her ass, pull her against my hips, let her feel how much I want her. She wraps her hand around my cock, stroking it, and the sensation almost undoes me.

Cat climbs on top, lining up without a second guess and slides herself down on to me. Agonizingly slow, deliberate, wanting to feel every inch. She’s so wet I slide in with no resistance, but the heat is fucking unreal, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming right there.

She sets the rhythm. Her hips rolling up to meet every thrust, my hand on her hip guiding the pace. Despite the fact that I am literally inside her, the distance between us is still too far.

I adjust and sit up, grabbing her neck and whisper, “You are so fucking beautiful,” before bringing her forward to kiss me.