AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A hot streak of jealousy zaps through me, which is so unlike anything I’ve ever felt that it shocks me to my core. I’m a good boyfriend, a patient guy. I care a lot about the women I date and treat them accordingly. But never, not in one relationship, have I been jealous. I could see my ex-fiancée being chatted up by a guy at the bar and simply leave it alone, knowing she’d come back over to me at some point.
But even the thought of Cassandra filming a fake scene for a movie where she’d have to be undressed by an actor just doing his job? That makes me want to rip someone’s face off.
“As long as you’re sure? I don’t want to overstep, but I also can’t stand the thought of you scared and alone in this house.”
“Careful, Patrick, a woman might think you want to protect her with sentiments like that.” She smirks, and I see a bit of that sassiness I know is buried under the armor she wears around me.
“I do care, Cassandra. I think you know that. I think you know there is a lot we should probably discuss, but I won’t go there. Not right now.” My eyes burn into hers.
“Patrick, we kissed. Nothing more.” But her eyes shift to the left, a tell that she’s lying.
“That kiss had been coming for a decade, more than a decade, and you know it.” I’m not going to let her bullshit me.
And even though I should listen to the warning bells going off in my head about my serial monogamy and the mountains of obstacles between us, I can’t ignore the elephant in the room anymore. It’s been too long, I’m too keyed up about this break-in and what could have happened, and I’m about to share a bed with her.
I can’t lie beside her in a place I’ve always fantasized about being without her knowing that it wasn’t just a kiss.
“I’m tired.” She sways on her feet.
“Let’s get you some rest.” I take her by the elbow and walk her down the hallway with its smell of mold to the only room with a light on.
Inside is a queen bed that takes up nearly three-quarters of the small space, a fluffy white comforter and padded white headboard calling to us. The sun hasn’t even set yet, but I know Cassandra needs sleep dearly. So if I can bring any sort of sense of safety and comfort, I’ll lie here for as long as she needs.
“You don’t have anything to wear.” She notes my jeans and half-zip sweatshirt.
I shrug, unzipping it to pull over my head, leaving only my T-shirt. “I’ll be fine. Sleeping in jeans is better than sleeping on that godforsaken couch. You should just throw that thing away.”
“I really should. I don’t sit on it anyway. I’ll be back.” She holds up the clothes she just pulled out of the small dresser in the corner.
Thinking about her undressing in the bathroom while I awkwardly climb into the side of the bed that looks unused is a unique kind of torture. How many wet dreams have I had about Cassandra Mauer? Too many to count, even when I was in relationships. How many of her movies have I watched, mesmerized by how she commands the screen? It’s much like in real life; I feel like I can’t take a full breath whenever I’m in her presence.
While I’m trying desperately to think of dead fish and US capitals, my father’s suggestion that I charm her into selling her land to us pops into my mind unexpectedly. Fuck, if I were to try to do that, this would be a pretty decent battle I’d won in pursuit of it. But it’s not, even if the guilt burns my gut because she doesn’t know I had that underlying plan not so long ago.
“Comfortable?” she asks, exhaustion wavering in her voice.
In a soft gray long-sleeve and matching pants, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders and the creamy skin of her face dewy from what looks like lotion, I can’t help but stare. To the rest of the world, she’s a superstar who commands attention. I get the appeal of humble actress Cassandra, the woman who never brags on red carpets yet garners a paycheck twice her male costars. But this is the side of her no one sees, and I’m honored to get a glimpse of it.
“It’s not a bad bed.” I grin.
“Light on or off?” she asks, climbing beneath the covers.
I’m lying on top of them, fighting the urge to roll over and press my front to her back. “Whatever you prefer.”
“I’ll go lights off, but if I don’t feel okay, then I’ll put them on. Shit, I hate this. I’m not a weak person. I hate that I feel like this.”
“Someone did this to you, you’re not weak. Your reaction isn’t stupid. But, like I told you before, you also don’t have to do everything alone. Sleep. I’ll be here.”
It seems so quick, how I changed my mind and decided to fuck the consequences. But this is Cassandra I’m talking about. You’d be hard-pressed to find a red-blooded man who wouldn’t want to worship at her feet or protect her from harm.
She clicks off the light, and I stare at the ceiling, resisting the craving to reach for her. What a temptation this is.
Not until I hear the sound of even breathing do I exhale a slow breath because she’s finally resting, and I’m determined to stay up most of the night just in case someone does come back.
But it doesn’t make it any easier to stop envisioning what might happen if I pull her close, slide my hands over her skin, and try to discover what we would be like if we let all of our barriers drop.
13
CASSANDRA
