Page 79 of King of Hollywood
“You’re ridiculous,” I scoffed unhappily, the cat still purring in my lap.
“You’re the one that’s getting hot and bothered because I’ve got my ankles out.”
I scoffed again, cheeks beet red.
“Just imagine if next time we go out, I decide to wear shorts.”
“Don’t tease.”
“You’d see my knees, Marshall. I don’t know if you could handle that.”
“I bet you don’t even own a pair of shorts,” I countered—because the idea of seeing Felix’s knees was definitely going to make me hard. Which was not something I wanted to be when I had a mangy cat in my lap.
Felix was entertained.
I was not.
I returned my focus to the creature using me as a cushion, desperately willing my cock to behave. The damn thing had been dormant for ninety percent of my life. Why’d it have to wake up now? I wish I had an off-switch for my libido. Though, realistically, it wasn’t bound to do shit. Because if I had an off-switch, that meant I had an on-switch too—and I was certain Felix would be constantly flipping it, just because he was a little shit who liked to watch me squirm.
Stop thinking about your libido, Marshall.
Cats.
Think about the cats.
Unsure what to do with my hands, I sort of—hovered them over him—till Felix coaxed me into petting the damn beast.
The moment I touched him, something clicked into place inside me. The part of me that had always loved the desperate and weak.
And I…well.
I took him home.
Even though he quite effectively cock-blocked me, and instead of getting to touch Felix’s ass, we spent an hour shopping online for cat things together.
I tried to rationalize it.
Cats were useful beasts, surely. They ate…mice, didn’t they? Not that I had a mouse problem—but still. Mice. Yes. That was why I took him. Not because he was ugly and old and had a knick in his ear.
Not because he hated everyone but me.
Not because he needed me.
No.
That would be ridiculous and sentimental—and I was neither of those things.
Which turned out not to be true at all, because the next time Felix and I went out—a few days later—I took him to see a meteor shower inside our local botanical garden.
There were lights that lit the path that led through groves of fickle flowers, the rich scent of pollen permeating the air. It was a bee’s paradise, and yet…Felix’s eyes never left the starry night sky above.
He wore his hat, as he had for all of our dates out. No shorts, thank God. I could not be held responsible for what I would’ve done if Felix had flashed me his knees.
When I reached out and pulled his hat off his head, he didn’t fight me. He just laughed, eyes crinkling. Then he cuddled into my side to hide behind my bulk.
There were only a few other couples that dotted the garden, so it wasn’t like we were totally surrounded. Still though, I curled protectively around him, blocking him from view so he could focus on the meteors above without worrying about prying eyes.
I wasn’t sure what it was about being observed that bothered Felix so much.
