CHAPTER 13
TATE
A few hours ago, I was ordering myself to sustain a platonic friendship at all costs. I guess that plan went by the wayside because, and I could be wrong, I don’t think kissing falls under the platonic category.
In my defense, this can’t be classified as kissing. At least not enjoyable or acceptable kissing. When our mouths collide, it’s pure disaster. Nothing like the hot kiss we shared at the Hartley house, when the feel of Cassie’s soft, warm lips got me so hard I had trouble walking afterward. This kiss is overbearing and sloppy. We’re both having trouble breathing and not in a sexy way. My tongue is like an action star, kicking and punching around in her mouth as if we’re dueling for dominance. It’s actually exhausting.
Her outraged squeal vibrates against my lips. “Ahhh, stop! This is awful!” She shoves me.
I laugh, wiping the excess saliva off my chin. “Nope. We both know you’d never actually say that to him. Try again. Redirect the negative into a positive request. Make it a you issue, remember?”
She’s instantly shamefaced. “Right. I forgot.” Her lips press together in humor. “Sorry I pushed you.”
“All good.” I draw a deep breath to stock up on oxygen, then dive in for round two.
This time, when my tongue pillages its way through her parted lips, I feel a firm touch on the center of my chest. Then she awkwardly eases her mouth away and orders, “Slow!”
I narrow my eyes.
She softens her tone. “I mean, I like it slower.” Then, as if struck by inspiration, a naughty smile tugs on her lips. “I love being teased. Slow kissing is such a turn-on for me…”
Oh man. Those words do something to me. My sweatpants suddenly feel too tight.
“Excellent ad-libbing,” I tell her, my voice coming out a bit husky.
She brightens. “Thank you. What now?”
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “I think we practice an even more proactive approach—this one deals with the aggressive entry. When he comes at you tongue first, this is what you do. You touch his cheek to stop him, stare at him, and give him a compliment.”
“About what?”
“Anything. His eyes. His dimples. Anything on his face. Just slow it down before he even gets the chance to Hulk-smash his mouth against yours. Now you’re in the position to get the kiss going, and that means you pick the pace.”
“Genius.”
“I know. Ready?”
Her throat dips as she swallows. When she licks her lips in preparation, I almost groan out loud. Lip-licking is my goddamn kryptonite. I can’t see a woman do that, especially this one, and not want to rip her clothes off.
Platonic, I remind myself. You’re just helping her out.
With a gulp of my own, I adopt my ridiculous pose—eyelids shut, mouth gaping open like a trout’s—and move my head toward hers.
A pro at following orders, Cassie intercepts the trajectory of my tongue by touching my cheek. My pulse kicks up a notch from the feel of her soft fingertips stroking the stubble on my jaw.
Her eyes slowly meet mine. Those bottomless brown depths glimmer with desire. Our faces are inches apart, her sweet breath tickling my chin.
“You have the sexiest lips,” she whispers, brushing the pad of her thumb over my bottom lip. “I’m obsessed with them.”
Our gazes remain locked. This late at night, the breeze traveling along the water tends to be cooler, but I’m burning up. My dick is hard and my skin is on fire. Her touch feels like heaven along my flesh, and I instinctively sag into it, forgetting I’m supposed to be playacting. That I’m simply helping her shore up her boundaries so they’re nice and firm the next time she sees that Aaron kid. The next time she makes out with someone else.
I abruptly straighten out. “That was smooth. Nice job.”
Her answering smile is so relaxed and careless I have to wonder if I imagined what just happened. If I was the only one to feel the surge of raw need that traveled between us.
“When are you seeing him again?” I ask lightly.
“Saturday night. I would’ve invited him to be my date for that charity gala on Friday, but I’m already going with Joy and my grandmother. This year’s charity is Habitat for Humanity, Grandma’s pet cause, so she’s giving me five grand to spend on the auctions. Can you believe that? Five grand.”
“Oh shit,” I say, feeling my face go pale. “I forgot that was this weekend. I’m in the auction.”
She grins at me. “Of course you are.”
“Not by choice,” I growl. “It’s a job requirement. My boss at the club forces all the sailing guys to volunteer. I fucking hate it.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure it’s such a chore to stand on a stage while women literally throw money at your feet for a chance to date you.”
An idea strikes. I look over hopefully. “Will you bid on me?”
“I’d rather not,” she replies in amusement.
“Please? I can’t go on a date with another cougar, Cass. I just can’t.”
She snickers. “How many years have you done it?”
“This will be my third. Last year I went on a sunset cruise with a fifty-something-year-old broad who offered me my own boat and a weekly allowance if I came over every Sunday when her husband was playing golf.”
“You turned down a sugar mama? Oh, Tate.”
I glower at her. “I’m not for sale.”
“You’re literally putting yourself up for sale in an auction!”
“And I’m trying to rig it by asking my friend to bid on me.” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes. “Come on, you just said your grandmother is giving you money to bid.”
“Yeah, and I wanted to bid on the Charleston Sanctuary package for me and Joy,” Cassie whines. “It’s literally the best spa in the country.”
“What’s more important? The spa or my dignity?”
“The spa.”
I flip up my middle finger. “Asshole. Come on, do me a solid. I think last year I only went for a couple grand.”
Her mouth falls open. “You’re asking me to spend two thousand dollars on you? On this?” She vaguely waves a hand at my body.
“Like you don’t want to be all up in this business.”
“For two grand I don’t.”
“You think I could twist Lydia’s arm into bidding on me?”
“Doubtful. She’s too classy to participate in what’s basically the equivalent of Magic Mike for rich people.”
“Hey, is your dad going to be there too this weekend? Both my folks are coming.”
Cassie shakes her head. “I don’t think so. The country club is a Tanner family thing. The Souls are much more laid-back.”
“He does seem like a super laid-back dude,” I remark, remembering Clayton Soul’s relaxed demeanor and quick laughter. “You two are close?”
“Sometimes.”
I chuckle. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t see or talk to him as often as I’d like.” She gazes up at the dark sky, and her hair falls down her back in waves. “It sucks, because we were practically inseparable when I was a kid. I was much closer to him than my mother.”
“How’d that happen anyway? Your parents, I mean. Your mom’s a clone and your dad’s a local—how’d they get together in the first place?” I lean back on my elbows and make myself comfortable. Despite the fact it’s nearly 1 A.M., it doesn’t seem like Cassie’s in any hurry to head inside. Neither am I. The stars are out and the water’s calm. And I like talking to her. A lot.
She brings her legs up and sits cross-legged, arranging her dress so it covers her thighs. “They met when Mom was a junior in college. Before my grandparents decided to live in the Bay year-round, they’d split their time between here and Boston, but summers were always spent in the Bay, no exceptions. Mom was visiting and they met at a party, I think. Somehow they fell in love, despite being so different in every conceivable way.” She shrugs. “Opposites really do attract, I guess. And she had to have loved him, right? Because she came to live here full-time after college, which would’ve been a major sacrifice for her.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.”
“Maybe I am. I mean, I know what my dad saw in her. She’s gorgeous, obviously. And she’s very charming when she wants to be. Funny, sociable. When she puts on her act, she’s the most lovable person you’ll ever meet. She’ll be coming to town mid-August, so I’m sure you’ll experience the act for yourself.”
I wrinkle my brow. “What makes you think it’s an act?”
“Because I’ve seen the person behind the mask. She’s manipulative. Entitled. Hypercritical. She gets a kick out of putting you down, then plays the victim when you call her out on it. And don’t get me started on the total lack of empathy. There isn’t an empathetic bone in her body. She’s the most self-centered person I’ve ever known.”
“Man, that’s rough. Has she always been like that?”
“I think so. For as long as I can remember, anyway. And although my grandmother would never say a bad word about her own children, I can tell she’s disappointed with Mom’s behavior. Especially when it comes to all the passive-aggressive bullshit, the scathing criticism. She wasn’t too awful to me when I was little, but she was constantly snapping at Dad. I remember thinking he had the patience of a saint. It wasn’t until after the divorce, once she and I were alone all the time, that she turned most of her vitriol toward me. Suddenly she always had something to bitch about, some element of my appearance to disparage, some immoral behavior to call out.” Cassie offers a weak laugh. “Lucky me.”
I study her face, my heart squeezing at the thought of a young Cassie having to endure her mother’s vile bullshit. But her expression remains detached, accepting even, as if any past—or present—trauma is no big deal.
“You always do that,” I tell her.
“Do what?” Her teeth dig into her lower lip. Finally revealing a trace of emotion.
“Downplay all the shit that hurts you.”
“Because I’m an optimist.” She tucks a section of reddish hair behind her ear, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “No situation is entirely bad. There’s always a silver lining. Always. You just have to look for it.”
“Really? So there’s a silver lining in having your mother treat you like crap?” I say dubiously. “Or your parents getting divorced?”
“If it weren’t for the divorce, I wouldn’t have my little sisters,” Cassie points out. “And I’m quite happy that my sisters exist.”
“You can be happy they exist and still wish the divorce hadn’t happened.”
“True. But honestly, it was probably for the best. Nothing Dad did could ever make her happy. He’s definitely better off without her.” Cassie pushes more hair out of her eyes. It’s getting breezier out, causing those long, wavy strands to fly into her face. “Let me guess—your parents are happily married?”
“Yeah, it’s disgusting.”
We both laugh.
“They’ve always been great role models,” I admit, albeit grudgingly. “That’s why I hate disappointing them. I swear, I’m the only kid who would willingly ground himself or demand extra chores after getting in trouble. This one time in high school, I stayed out all night with the twins. My parents were up till dawn, wearing holes in the carpet from fear I was dead in an alley somewhere. The next morning, I walked in, hungover as fuck, sat on the sofa in front of them, and was like, I think you should ground me for two weeks and put me on permanent dog-poop duty.”
Cassie peals out a laugh. “You are such a loser.”
“First of all—I got laid that night. Losers don’t get laid. Second—don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing, Ms. I Avoid Conflict.”
“Fair. But,” she adds smugly, “I never got in trouble. Ever.”
“I don’t know if that’s something to brag about.”
She starts to answer, then breaks off in a wide yawn. “Oh man. I’m tired.” She blinks a few times. “That just hit me out of nowhere.” She yawns again. “I think it’s time for bed.”
When she unfolds her legs and gets to her feet, I can’t stop a pang of disappointment. I’m working two different jobs tomorrow and yet I want nothing more than to stay up all night talking.
As friends, of course.
But she’s already pulling me to my feet. “Come on, walk me up the path so I don’t trip on a rock or something and crack my head open.”
I offer my arm, then yank it away before she can take it. Her jaw drops, and I cock a brow. “On one condition—you bid on me this weekend.”
“Nope.”
“You’re really going to throw me to the wolves like that? The cougar wolves?”
“Oh my God, drama queen. All right,” she relents. “How about this? I’ll bid—only if I see the cougars making their move.”
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
Cassie grabs my arm and links hers through it. “No promises,” she warns.