Chapter 16 Terms
POV: Catherine
I feel him before I see him. The rancid stink of sulfur and vomit burns my nose as I slip off my heels and tiptoe toward my bedroom. If I’m just quiet enough...
“Where were you all night?”
Shit.
My dad is slumped on the living room couch, and of course, tonight of all nights, he’s wide awake.
“Just... out.”
He frowns, tongue clicking softly. “It’s late.”
I set my heels to the side. “Which is why I’m going straight to bed.”
His eyes narrow and, for a second, I feel like a teenager who broke curfew. “Liam had a fever. He was looking for you after practice. He had good news but you didn’t pick up.”
“I was busy, Dad. What do you want me to say?”
He ignores that and swings his legs off the couch to grab a beer can from the floor. “Who’s the guy?”
I tense up immediately. “What guy?”
“The guy you missed bedtime for. The guy you’re clearly fucking.”
My lips press tight. “Goodnight, Dad.”
I leave him with his depressing pyramid of empty cans and lock myself in my bedroom. I shut the door. Lean against it. Flick the light on.
Fuck.
Fuck, I slept with Eric Wood.
I don’t believe it.
I feel like I’m in a dream. A weird dream where I’m floating and falling at the same time.
I’m buzzing. My legs are still shaking. I can feel his hands everywhere on me. His scent. That musky, woody, minty thing. I want to laugh. I want to scream. I want to bite my hand to check if I’m awake.
And at the same time, I’m conflicted.
Liam had a fever. Liam had good news. And I was... Fuck. What am I? A shitty big sister? A whore? Both?
My body still hums. A slow, satisfying, disgusting ache.
It started way before my dad opened his big mouth. Right around the moment Eric threw my clothes in my face and told me, flat out, that he wanted me out of his bed and out of his space.
Charming.
I would’ve loved to just fall into my pillows and blank out my thoughts. But I can still feel him on me. I strip and jump in the shower. The water is cold, but I don’t care. For a few seconds at least, I’m so focused on my breathing that I forget the way Eric walked me out of his apartment and left me there.
And that woman, what was she doing out at that hour. She was weird by the gate and shot me a skeptical look. I swear she was sniffing me. _You’re just another one in his revolving door of conquests, so enjoy it while it lasts and get ready for when he gets bored of you._
There’s a small chance I was projecting.
It’s just that it was so good, in the moment at least. I was nervous, sure. But he managed to calm me down and make me comfortable.
I got lost in the heat of his stare and the next few hours became a breathless, moaning, sweaty, gasping, intense blur. The kind of sex you tell your best friend about so you can give her every dirty detail because you can’t believe how good it was.
I can’t call Anastasia, though. Because telling anyone about my arrangement with Eric would mean giving up both a lot of money and a lot of good sex.
Did I say good sex? I mean incredible sex. I mean mind blowing, once in a lifetime, the kind I’m gonna feed on when I’m old and gray and stuck in a boring marriage.
Still, incredible sex aside, it’s getting harder to ignore the fact that I’m trading sex for money. There’s a word for that...
In other words, I’m a whore. A whore who smells like the man who just used her body and tossed her aside when he was done.
So what does it say about me that I actually like the way his scent clings to my skin?
Stop. He’s not your fucking boyfriend. He’s Eric Wood. You don’t get to have expectations. You don’t get to have feelings. And you definitely don’t get to daydream about him afterward.
I turn off the lights and slip into bed. Compared to Eric’s mattress, all fluffy and lighter than air, mine feels like a hard sheet of plywood.
I just need to keep reminding myself why I signed his contract.
Mostly for Liam.
A little for me.
The reason behind the decision was valid. I just need to remember the rules. I need to adjust my expectations.