"I told you not to go in," Jeremiah said with a half-smile as Catherine stumbled out of the mansion in tears. What she must have seen inside had wrecked her, but on the contrary, he had long been waiting for this moment.
"Did you… Did you know all along as well?" Catherine's words slurred, her teeth clenched as tears streaked down her ruined face. She caught her reflection in the window by the door and let out a shaky laugh. Her mascara ran down her face, and her hair was a disheveled mess. She looked pitiful...pathetic.
"If I had told you, would you have believed me?" Jeremiah asked smoothly, scratching one of his brows.
Her glare wobbled thinly on the line of anger and disbelief. But he was right; she wouldn't have believed him. Even if a thousand voices told her about Matthew's betrayal, she would have defended him. Seeing it with her own eyes didn't even feel real.
She shoved past him, nearly tripping as she headed for the car. The door handle slipped twice in her grasp before she yanked it open and collapsed onto the back seat.
"Aren't you coming," she shouted through the window, "or do I have to bark orders at you before you move this damn car?!"
Her voice was sharp but her tongue trembled as she spat out her words. Jeremiah wasn't the least bit offended. In fact, he was overjoyed; this was the most she had spoken to him in a single day.
He chuckled under his breath, circled the car, and slid into the driver's seat.
"Where to, ma'am?" he asked, starting the ignition.
"Where else do people go when they want to forget?" Catherine snapped, her head falling back against the seat. "The bar, you dimwit."
⸻
"Shouldn't she stop now?" the bartender asked worriedly, watching Catherine cradle her fourth glass.
Jeremiah waved a dismissive hand. "Let her be."
He sat beside her on the barstool, his elbow propped on the counter, watching her closely. Even in her smeared, drunken state, she was still gorgeous.
Catherine turned suddenly, nearly toppling from her stool. "How… how could M-Matt… do this to me?" she slurred.
The stool slipped beneath her, but Jeremiah's hand shot out, catching her before she could hit the floor. Their faces landed dangerously close, her warm, alcohol-scented breath brushing against his skin. His gaze fixed on her ruined eyes, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only ones present in the room.
Catherine shivered. Heat shot through her body, pooling low in her belly. She jerked away quickly, clearing her throat as though it might clear the tension too.
"Give me… more alcohol," she demanded, slamming her hand against the table. "The strongest one you have."
"Don't give her more," Jeremiah ordered flatly, stopping the bartender's hand.
Catherine's head snapped toward him, fury flashing through her hazy eyes. "You're my bodyguard, not my father! You can't tell me what to do!" Her words were loud and slurred, her finger wagging clumsily in his face. "You're supposed to listen to me. Do you hear me? Me! Not the other way around."
The bartender hesitated, but at Catherine's sharp glare, he reluctantly poured another drink and slid it to her.
Catherine snatched it with shaking hands and downed it, coughing halfway but forcing every drop down her throat. When she slammed the glass onto the counter, the bartender poured her another glass.
Catherine's head spun, and everything now had their twin in her eyes.
She lost her balance and Jeremiah steadied her again, his hand brushing against her waist. His nearness made her skin tingle, her thighs pressing together instinctively.
His masculine scent was everywhere, and her starved body reacted before her mind could catch up.
She hadn't been touched in months. Every nerve in her screamed at the simple closeness of him.
"Come on," Jeremiah murmured, lifting her to her feet when she swayed too hard.
Catherine slumped against his chest, her words muffled. "No home. Don't… don't take me home. I can't go back there. I won't." She let out a giggle that was half a sob. "Take me… take me to a hotel."
Jeremiah didn't argue. His arm circled her waist, guiding her out of the bar, her body melting against his side. Each brush of his hand set her nerves on fire.
By the time he laid her gently on the hotel bed, Catherine's head was swimming, but not just from the alcohol. Her eyes clung to him as he straightened. His broad frame filled the room, his scent lingered on her skin, and his nearness felt like a threat she couldn't resist.
When he turned as though to leave, her hand shot out, clutching his wrist. "Don't… don't leave me," she whispered, her voice cracking under drunken slurs.
Jeremiah paused. He looked down at her hands holding his, his eyes darkening. "Do you know what you're requesting of me?" His voice went lower, raw with hunger.
Catherine forced herself to her feet, grabbing Jeremiah for support, but she still wobbled and fell into his arms.
She stood on her toes, tucking her head against his neck. She inhaled deeply. "Fuck, you smell so good."
"That's it," Jeremiah hissed, prying her away from him. He moved her to the bed and forced her to sit down. Grabbing her shoulders, he looked her in the eye. "Let's not do what we will both regret."
"I for sure won't be regretting anything," Catherine giggled and swatted his hands away. In the blink of an eye, she had her hands around his neck, forcing him down and claiming his lips in a ferocious kiss.
Jeremiah gently removed her hands wrapped around his neck and broke the kiss.
His body was on fire, the bulge in his pants too painful to ignore.
"Ma'am Catherine, you're drunk."
"…and horny," Catherine completed, giggling. Her face was beet red, and in all the haze, she had unbuttoned a few of her blouse buttons, revealing a bit of her cleavage.
Jeremiah gulped at the sight. He turned away to leave hurriedly but halted when Catherine began sobbing.
"Am I that unattractive? How could no one want to sleep with me?"
Jeremiah slowly turned around, cursing under his breath.
His desires battled with his morals. This was all he had ever wanted for the last three years. Catherine is offering herself to him on a platter. But he couldn't in any way on God's damned earth take advantage of a drunk woman. Especially one as vicious as Catherine.
Still, his legs moved on their own and he tipped her chin up. He gently wiped the tears from her eyes, his gaze settling on her lips as dirty thoughts crossed his mind.
"You're not unattractive, and you certainly do not know how many men want you in this position."
"Well, do you?" Catherine asked, looking him in the eye.
"You're drunk," Jeremiah repeated, more to himself than to her.
"Do you?" Catherine asked again, all signs of drunkenness disappearing. She was serious.
Jeremiah stood upright, running his hand through his hair. "Fuck."
In that moment, Catherine's eyes caught sight of his huge bulge. She stretched out her hand and reached for it. "You're so big," she said innocently, eyes wide.
Jeremiah hissed and stepped back. "Goodnight, ma'am Catherine."
He hurried to the door to save himself from this dangerous situation. Just as his hand twisted the doorknob, a shout echoed through the room.
"Stop!"
She ran up to him and pushed him away from the door. Her hands shot out to block it, eyes blazing with determination. "I won't let you leave."
Jeremiah stumbled backward. He looked at Catherine in exasperation. "I'm warning you, ma'am Catherine, don't do what you'll regret."
Catherine stretched her hand and pulled Jeremiah to her, the force of it making her back hit the door.
"The only thing I'll regret is not getting fucked in the way I deserve. Fuck me."