Page 34

Chapter 32

Guy

“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping up with me all this time,” Kitty said, shaking her head as she shoved her last bite of sushi in her mouth.

“I’ve been so proud of you,” I said, dividing the dregs of our bottle of sake between our cups. “You’ve done everything you wanted to do.”

“You have, too,” she said, looking at me and glowing. “I’m sorry I don’t always keep up with your games. I do check the scores and see if you scored. You almost always get a point somewhere. Sorry about the playoffs last year, though.”

She texted me a congrats every time I’d gotten a hat trick, and a few days later, a hat showed up at my door without fail. Even when I stopped talking to her, she pushed on. What she didn’t know was that in my head, every single goal, every assist, every achievement was for her.

“That’s what they pay me the big bucks for,” I deflected.

“I’m curious. Why did you pick now to check in with me?” Kitty’s eyes were stunning in the candlelight.

How much was I willing to give away? Go for honesty, or hide my true feelings? In my desperation to keep her when we were young, I don’t think I told her about not being able to be traded until I was twenty-seven. Should I tell her I was finally eligible to be traded, or would that get her hopes up too much?

“I, uh, read you weren’t with Sanders anymore,” I started. “And your standup has been more single-focused, so I thought I might have a chance. We’re a little older now, so I thought I might be able to convince you to do long distance again until I can figure out something else.”

Kitty nodded, her chest heaving with a breath as she looked around the table. She picked up a piece of ginger with her chopsticks, almost dropping it.

I snorted a small laugh. “You always were shit with chopsticks, Birdy.”

“Shut up,” she said, flinging condensation from her water glass at me.

“I swear to God, Birdy, I brought you to a nice restaurant and you still can’t behave.”

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it later,” she said, a spark in her eyes.

“Oh, am I? Or are you? You know what happens when you’re bad,” I said breezily, stroking one fingertip over her knee under the table. “I’ve missed doing that with you, too.”

Kitty drew in a shaky breath. “I understand you’ve had plenty of candidates to distract you in that regard.”

“Don’t you slut shame me, Birdy. And besides, nobody holds a candle to you,” I said, watching her face flush pink.

“You’re just saying that. I’m sure you have girls lubing up their feet for you if that’s what you want.”

“I’m not just saying that. You’re the blueprint, the one I compare everybody to. And you know I’m not a foot guy.”

Kitty and I shared a tense glance, the kind that used to end with my mouth on her neck and her nails raking down my back. She took on a slight smirk.

“Ankles, though,” she said, raising an eyebrow. She was kidding, but one of my favorite old ways to get her fired up was to nibble at her ankles, then work my way up her leg with my mouth. She has the best legs. One of the reasons I loved her Netflix special so much was that I got to see her legs for an entire hour. I remembered what they felt like in my hands, wrapped around my waist.

“Always an ankle guy,” I agreed with a grin.

Outside the restaurant, Kitty stood in front of me, holding both of my hands. The night was hot, the late summer air not cooling much in the evenings. My stomach was a snake pit of nerves. I knew what I wanted to do next, but I wanted to tread lightly.

“Thanks for taking me to dinner,” she said sweetly. “And for coming to my show. And to New York, seemingly for me?”

“All for you, ma puce .” It had been so long since I kissed her that I almost felt like I needed to ask permission. We were strangers in some ways. But when I put my hand on her waist and she stepped in, grabbing my bicep, I knew I was good to go. My other hand went to her neck, using my thumb to lift her face to mine. That always used to make her melt.

Just before I dropped my lips to hers, she spoke. “Is this going to be a mistake?”

“If so, it’s a mistake I’m willing to make. Are you?”

Kitty’s face lit up with what I’d call her signature devious look. Then with her hand on my neck, she pulled me down to her.

Our lips met again for the first time since she left Seattle for good. It was electric, exactly what I’d been hoping for since I let her go. There were kisses and then there were kisses from Kitty, my one true love. We had a certain rhythm to how we kissed, and it clicked right back into place. We connected, lips sampling three or four times before she licked my upper lip. I slanted my mouth and opened, letting our tongues slide together, sucking back out. I pulled her body close to mine, dragging her into me. I forgot how good she tasted. There was a certain taste that was only hers.

I needed her warmth, even though the night was hot. I backed her up to the brick of the restaurant, cradling her head so it didn’t hit hard. I drove my knee between her legs to get closer, Kitty giving a shocked giggle into my mouth. I didn’t care who saw us. In fact, I’d be glad if someone got a picture of us. Then everyone would know she was mine again. Balance was restored in my universe. The years between our being together were generally good years, but there was always a Kitty-sized hole in every achievement, every milestone, and every single day that she wasn’t around.

We broke the kiss, Kitty looking up at me dazed and panting. I had an undeniable erection and had basically turned the streets of Manhattan into my personal den of debauchery.

“So you wanna go get ice cream?” And just like always, Kitty had me laughing.

We held hands walking back to my hotel. Kitty elected for us to go there since it was both closer and fancier.

“I think you still probably make more money than me,” she said with a wink. “I bet your place even has nice bathrobes and shit.”

“Guilty,” I admitted. “If you’re nice, I’ll even let you order a massage to the room.”

“Hmm, depends what nice means,” she said, looking mischievous. “If I were really a nice girl, I’d sleep in your bed and you’d sleep on the floor like a gentleman.”

I snapped my head to look at her. “I think you’ve been away from me too long. You forgot what nice means.”

“You’ll have to remind me, then,” she said casually, like she wasn’t inviting me to do all sorts of fun things to her. She knew she was driving me up the wall. Darkly, I wondered if she was this fun with Clark Sanders. I took a deep breath, mentally thanking my therapist for teaching me what to do with intrusive thoughts. “Are you going to be nice to me, though? I’m a respectable woman. I deserve to be treated like a princess.”

Oh, Kitty was playing games. She was waiting for me to bite. I saw an alleyway and pulled her into it, a delighted giggle escaping her. I grabbed her from behind and leaned against a building, pulling her back to my front as I growled in her ear.

“If you want to be treated like a princess, you’d better stop being such a spoiled brat,” I snarled. She was silent, gasping, waiting for me to go on. A wave of heat pulsed from her neck, where my lips hovered. “You love being a dirty, filthy little good girl for me. I bet you’ve thought about it since I’ve been gone.”

“Maybe sometimes,” she said, trying to sound airy but for once she sucked at acting. She couldn’t pretend to be nonchalant when she was the equivalent of a cat in heat.

I traced my fingers along the top of her jeans. “You know, good girls get rewarded,” I said, dipping my hand into her pants and under her panties, cupping her. She was completely drenched. “Are you going to be a good girl for me tonight?”

“Yes,” Kitty moaned. So I gave her the reward. I dipped a finger into her slit, coating it in her slick wetness and dragging it up over her clit.

“You’re fucking soaked for me, Birdy. Did you miss me?”

“So bad,” she sighed, moving her hips to beg for friction from my finger. The fringe benefit was that it made her ass grind against my cock, teasing me at the same time. I flicked the pad of my finger over her nerves. Kitty held my wrist to her stomach, pleading for more.

“Good girl,” I said, my finger moving faster. “That’s it, Birdy. Let me take care of you.”

“Guy,” she choked out desperately, strangled.

With one hand down her pants, the other held her to my front, caressing her shoulder and neck, cupping her breast. I pressed kisses behind her ear as she held on to my hips for dear life, her head resting on my shoulder.

“Guy, I’ve needed you,” she whimpered.

“I’m here now, sweetheart,” I said. “Let go for me, baby.”

Her hips moved furiously again, and she mewled, seeking her release. “Whose are you, Kitty?”

“Yours,” she cried out as I felt her pulse against my fingers.

“My perfect girl,” I cooed in her ear.

Kitty was mine again. At least for the weekend.

I removed my hand from her pants and slipped my wet finger into my mouth, sucking her taste off. I groaned. “I missed that taste, Birdy. You’ll always be my favorite.”

Kitty spun around in my arms, facing me and pulling me into a fierce hug. She shuddered as she held me, saying nothing. I stroked a hand over her hair, pinning her to me. Our energy was sexual and primal, but there were undercurrents of the longing and sadness we’d endured being apart for so long. It was spilling over for Kitty like it did for me during dinner.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming to see me. It’s the best surprise. I guess I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Her bravado was gone, raw feelings laid bare in the dim light of the alley. She still trusted me enough to show me her most vulnerable self, and that felt nice. All I wanted was to make her feel how much I loved her, and how much I needed her back in my life. I rubbed my thumb over her cheekbone.

“Can I take you home and show you how much I still love you?” I asked, reading the change in mood. She gave me a feather-light kiss that made my stomach tingle. Sweet Kitty was just as much fun as Bad Girl Kitty.

“I’d like that.”