Our Secret Moments (Drayton Hills Series)

THE SECOND I watched Cat take that cup from my sister’s hand, I should have known that tonight would end up like this.

Well, not exactly like this, but close to it.

“Shhhh,” she murmurs, swaying slightly as we stand outside her bedroom door. She presses her fingers to my lips that were not moving at all. “You’re being too loud.”

“That’s all you, Cat,” I say against her fingers, trying my hardest to suppress my laugh.

After cautiously watching all three of the girls drink and dance all night at Oli’s house, I knew I would be the one bringing them back to their dorm. Elle and Nora both crashed the second they got in, but Cat is making this extra difficult. I just wanted to take her back, make sure she got to her door and go back home.

Being the designated dad in the group is hard.

“When did you get so drunk?” I ask gently, attempting to put a finger on the exact moment she started going off the rails. All I know is she was tipsy going on a tour with Oli and then she gave me a look before disappearing. After that, I tried to discreetly follow her around and make sure she was okay as she avoided me like I was a fucking disease.

“You keeping tabs on me, Connie?” she asks, her tone playful and light.

“Always.”

We’re just staring at each other, both of our shoulders leaning on her bedroom door. She licks her lips, still holding two fingers lazily against my mouth. I don’t know what she’s doing, but I would do just about anything for her at this point. If that means letting her stare at me while I look back at her, so be it.

I watch her carefully as her eyes travel across my face from my hair down to my chest. I would have never known just how much eye contact could mess me up inside before I met her. She has this gentle, caring nature in her eyes. It’s like she’s seen too much, knows too many things and has too many thoughts and feelings that she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“You’re really hot, you know that?” she whispers, the words passing through her lips in a soft whisper, crashing against the shore in my brain. I take in a sharp breath. “Like, just so fucking sexy.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” I say in a sigh, “it’s time for bed.”

She shakes her head at me, closing her eyes slightly and probably giving herself a headache in the process. “No, I’m being serious,” she mumbles, slurring slightly. “You have really nice eyes.” She runs a finger between my eyes and slowly moves it down the bridge of my nose as I keep my eyes locked with hers. “And your lips….” Her voice grows quiet as she runs a finger against my bottom lip. It takes all that I am to not stick my tongue out and finally taste her. “You don’t want to know the places I’ve imagined your mouth being.”

I try to be strong, but Catherine makes me feel fucking weak. She’s staring up at me, her hand somehow finding its way to my neck as she winds her finger in my hair. I can’t be with her like this. Not when I want her so badly and she’s clearly still drunk. She needs to go to sleep, and I need to go home.

That’s it.

She tilts her mouth up to mine, almost as close as we were at Oliver’s house, but far away enough that she doesn’t take up every thought in my brain like she usually does.

“I want you to come to bed with me,” she whispers, her lips dangerously close to mine now.

“Catherine,” I warn.

She blinks up at me, her eyebrows drawn in, those soft brown eyes pleading. I take the bait like the dumb bunny I am and push open her bedroom door.

As expected, everything is so neat and tidy here. Her white bedspread is made, no clothes spill out of her closet and her desk is organised with neat piles stacked up next to thick textbooks. The only thing that is a mess is her overflow of books in one corner of the room. She steps through the door properly and I shut it behind us.

“Listen, you’ve got to keep things PG, or I can’t stay,’ I whisper.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbles, sitting on the edge of the bed. I laugh a little as her eyes wander around the room. I stick my tongue in my cheek, trying my hardest not to laugh. She’s a cute drunk. Too fucking cute.

“Okay, where are your pyjamas?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips, not wanting to rifle through her clothes without warning.

“In there,” she says, her voice suddenly breathy. I follow her weak point to her bedside drawer and pull out shorts and a tank top, the soft material of them almost falling through my hands. I hold them out to her, waiting for her to nod slowly.

She’s not making any move to get dressed herself, so I kneel down in front of her, placing my hands on her thighs and she looks down at me, her eyes glossy. I don’t think I’ve seen her this quiet. She always has something to say. Something for me to listen intently to. I pull on the hem of her shirt, signalling that I’m wanting to help her get unready.

“Can I help you take this off?” I ask, my voice thick and heavy. She lets out a gentle sigh until she finally nods. I pull up the shirt slightly, but she still doesn’t move her arms. “Arms up, sweetheart.”

She blinks at me a few times, her eyes clearly heavy with sleep before she lifts her arms above her head slowly. I work her free of her shirt until she’s sitting in front of me in nothing but a peach bra and jeans.

My breathing instantly grows erratic. I’ve seen her in nothing but that tiny bikini only a week ago, but this somehow feels different. The soft glow coming from her lamp shines across her skin, giving her an almost dreamlike look. She’s still looking at me, studying me, waiting for some kind of reaction so I give her one.

“You’re so beautiful, Catherine. Just so fucking pretty.”

She doesn’t react the way I thought she would. Especially after the way she was complimenting me a few minutes ago. Her lips part slightly, her eyes clearly etched onto my mouth that I end up sucking in a breath.

You don’t want to know the places I’ve imagined your mouth being.

“Come on,” I say, guiding her to stand up so I can work off her jeans after helping her into her tank top. She stumbles into me slightly and when she’s upright again I kneel down in front of her. I’ve gotten too comfortable being on my knees in front of her, but fuck me if it doesn’t turn me on. It feels like I’m worshipping her, and she needs to be worshipped.

I unbutton her jeans and slide them down her thighs in a smooth motion, keeping my eyes trained on her legs and nowhere else until she has to step out of them, causing her to hold onto my shoulder for support.

When I reach for her shorts, she still doesn’t say anything until she silently slips into them. “Are you not going to talk?”

She shakes her head. “You’re on your knees in front of me. My thoughts are not very PG right now.”

Fuck me.

This was a really bad idea, knowing just how much I want her, how badly my body wants her. I ache just by being in her presence. I swear I fucking yearn for her. How pathetic is that? Especially when she’s only telling me how she feels when she’s drunk and horny.

But drunk words are sober thoughts, right?

“What are you thinking, Cat?” I hear myself say.

She swallows, running her hands across my shoulders as she lowers herself onto the bed, sitting back down. My hands move on their own accord, lightly grazing her bare skin, the smoothness so foreign yet comforting. Her breath hitches. “I want to do more than just dance with you, too.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “A lot more than that.”

“I’d do anything you want me to. All you have to do is ask.”

“Then kiss me.”

“I’ll kiss you,” I confirm, “But not like this.” I sigh, taking a step back and standing to my full height. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed.”

She sulks a little, but she listens to me, scooting back slightly until she pulls back the covers. I lean over her, moving around her pillows until she’s comfortable and I wrap the covers over her, tucking her in tight and she lets me. As I’m about to pull away, she clasps her hand around my wrist.

“Stay with me. Please,” she whispers. Her eyes soften, her tone pleading and vulnerable. It’s the very last thing I should do, but I can feel my skin itching to stay with her longer.

“Okay,” I sigh, rubbing my hand across my face. “Okay,” I say again, kicking off my shoes. As she snuggles under the covers, I lay beside her on top of the covers, facing the ceiling.

“You’re too good to me sometimes, Connie,” she murmurs.

I don’t turn to her. I don’t think I could if I wanted to. Still, when her hand reaches out and finds mine, I don’t let go. She threads her fingers between mine, and I squeeze her hand softly. I stroke my thumb against the soft skin beneath me as she sighs, the sound rushing straight to my brain, making me want to curl up in a ball and settle right into her.

“That’s all I want to do, Cat. All the time,” I whisper,

I turn to her, ready to see her reaction. Her eyes are closed, her long lashes resting against her cheeks as she breathes heavily. I let out a sigh of relief, partly grateful knowing that she didn’t hear me.

Watching her sleep tugs a heavy, yet satisfying feeling over my whole body like a blanket, a safe and unknown emotion resting on my chest, knowing that she’s at peace. Her perfect lips are curved into a slight smile, a tiny tug on her eyebrows and I hope she’s having a happy dream.

When sleep starts to pull me under too, I don’t let go of her hand.