6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Leo

It’s dusk when I get home from practice, the sky a muted palette of oranges and purples. The frigid winter air nips at my face as I step out of the car, my muscles aching from the grueling day as I make my way to the front door.

I got dragged into three different meetings, and I’m completely exhausted. But when I step inside, the commotion in the kitchen catches my attention. Walking into the room, I spot Cat in rose-colored leggings that emphasize that perky little ass of hers, and my entire body comes to life.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, a few stray tendrils framing her face as she concentrates on cutting chicken breasts in half, thinning out the slices.

“Need help?”

She looks up, her brown eyes meeting mine. “Nah, I got it. Kids are in their rooms doing homework.”

“You sure? You worked all day too.” One of the deals we made when she agreed to help is that I understand she has a full-time job and that I’d help out when I’m around.

Like now.

“Leo, I’ve got it. Trust me. I’ll let you know when I don’t.”

I snort, unable to hide my skepticism.

In the short time I’ve been around Cat, I’ve learned anything can be further from the truth, especially if she gets mad. When the hellcat is pissed, she’s independent as fuck. Two days ago, I accidentally insulted her, my attempt at cracking a joke that she and Stella could share clothes, poking at her height.

Next thing I know, the fucking washing machine—which weighs a shit ton—is moved to the other side of the laundry room because she wanted to clean behind it.

Hellcat was the first word that came to mind when I met Catharina. All fiery and ready to scratch Jake’s biological father’s eyes out. Wouldn’t have put it past her either. Wyatt might’ve knocked some of the bastard’s teeth out, but Cat wanted to slit his throat.

Can’t say I blame her. I want to murder the fucker myself.

She snaps her fingers at me, the sharp sound pulling my attention back to her. “Earth to Leo. You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Just thinking about everything that happened with Jake.”

She tenses, facial features hardening. It’s still tough for all of us. “Motherfucker’s lucky he’s behind bars.”

I chuckle, though there’s no humor behind it. “Think it would be a group kill.”

She mumbles something in Spanish I don’t understand, then turns and opens the fridge. My eyes drift back down to her ass and my cock starts to stir, like it has since she moved in.

Whether it’s her short shorts, the leggings, or even the suits she wears to work, there’s something about Catharina that lights my body up. And it fucking sucks. Who authorized this bullshit?

It’s the only reason I was glad to be traveling last week for games. Hate when I’m gone from the kids, but I swear my dick has been hard constantly. Can hardly wear sweatpants or joggers anymore. Mostly stick to fucking jeans. Not that it helps much.

I even tried to pick up someone to fuck when we were in Montreal for a game. Well, that was my plan until I got to the bar. Women flirted, but I didn’t want any part of them even though I was horny as fuck.

Nope, I wanted the tiny little hellcat currently standing in my kitchen.

The one who’s off-limits. A fact Wyatt keeps reminding me of, as if I’m some dumbass teenager. Though, his warnings are more about me being nice, almost like he sees me as some sort of monster.

Nothing can be further from the truth. I know I can ruffle feathers, that my directness or silence can make me appear like an asshole, but it doesn’t mean that’s what’s in my heart.

Cat’s staring at me, hand on hips, her eyes slightly narrowed.

Fuck.

“Leo, get out of the kitchen.”

I clear my throat, trying to shake off the fog of desire. “Going to shower.”

“What is with you guys and showers? Don’t you take one before you even leave the rink?”

“I can still smell the equipment stink a bit. Kind of like working with fish. No matter how much you shower, sometimes the stench lingers.”

When she turns her attention back to the food, I walk out, and not a moment too soon because now my dick’s fully erect.

I race up the stairs, praying my kids don’t come out of their room, then make my way into the ensuite bathroom. The cool tile beneath my feet is a stark contrast to the heat radiating from my body.

The moment I yank my pants down, my dick springs free, hard as a fucking rock, and I groan. Sweat beads on my forehead as I palm myself, stroking the thick shaft. I’m so worked up, I might blow my load with one more tug.

Swear I’ve jerked it more in the past week and a half than I have in years. I shouldn’t be thinking of her in that way, but my traitorous dick just won’t quit.

I turn on the shower and step into the hot spray, but the tension in my muscles doesn’t release beneath the water. Instead, images of Cat invade my mind, flashing behind my closed eyes like a fucking slideshow. Her full lips curved into a smirk, the sway of her hips, the way her shirt stretches across those perky tits.

Fuck .

I can’t do this. Can’t think about her like this. But my dick has a mind of its own. It throbs, swelling and hardening with each pulse of my heartbeat. I’m rock hard, my cock standing at attention like a goddamn soldier. I try to will it down, but it’s no use. I’m aching, needing release.

Like I’m a goddamn teenager. I’d probably fucking come before she even got undressed.

Restraining myself is futile at this point. I spit on my hand, the saliva barely enough to slick my palm. I grasp my length, feeling the heat and hardness, the veins pulsing beneath my fingers. I stroke myself slowly at first, teasing, as I picture Cat on her knees in front of me. Her big eyes looking up, lips parted, ready to take me in.

My fingers tighten around my shaft, lingering on that spot underneath the sensitive head. A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine her tongue flicking out, tasting me. I squeeze, pretending it’s her mouth enveloping me, and jerk myself faster. The sound of my hand working my cock echoes in the shower, a steady, wet slap.

Looking down, I watch as my cock disappears into my fist, over and over. I’m fucking my hand, pretending it’s her. Her mouth, her pussy, her ass—I want it all. My breath comes in ragged gasps, steam billowing around me like a fucking sauna.

I’m so close. Right there, on the edge. My other hand presses against the tile wall, fingers curling, as my hips buck.

Right there. Right there. I can feel it building, the pressure in my balls, the tingling at the base of my spine. I grunt hard, my body tensing, ready for release.

Then someone bangs on the door. “Dad!”

Fuck.

“ Dad !”

“What?” My voice is gravelly, strangled, my hand still jerking. Maybe if I—

“Cat’s bleeding!” Mason’s panicking, banging on the door with more force. “Dad! She’s got hurt!”

A chill runs over my skin, the hair on my forearms standing up despite being wet. I burst out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around my waist. Water drips onto the floor as I fling open the door to find my son, his wide blue eyes—so much like mine—filled with fear that only seems to double my own.

I hurry past him to grab a pair of black joggers, putting them on quickly before I race downstairs, Mason’s smaller footsteps just behind.

My heart races, pumping blood and adrenaline throughout my body as I sprint into the kitchen. There’s blood on the floor along with shards of ceramic. “What the fuck!”

My breath comes out ragged as I follow the trail of crimson over to the kitchen table where Cat sits, one foot crossed over her thigh as it drips blood. In a few long strides I’m there on my knees. “What happened?”

“She was trying to get a bowl from the shelf.” Stella’s face is pale as she sits next to Cat.

“I’m okay. Really.” Cat looks over my shoulder. “Mason, don’t come in. Stay in the living room so you don’t step on anything.”

I follow her gaze, first at my son, who remains in the hallway, and then over to the cabinet. The entire middle shelf is pulled down. My molars grind together. “Mason grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.”

“Leo–”

“Shut up, Cat.” I glare at her, then gently lift her ankle to inspect the wound. “How the fuck did the whole shelf fall?”

“Dad, stop being so mean.”

My gaze turns to my daughter. “Go into the living room. Now.”

She crosses her arms and gives me a little growl. “You’re being mean. Stop it.”

“Out. Now.”

When she doesn’t move, Cat places a hand on her shoulder. “Stella, go. Let your dad clean my foot.”

My daughter stomps off through the side entryway and leaves us. A moment later Mason is back in the opposite entryway. He slides the first aid kit across the floor, then goes into the living room with his sister.

“She’s right, you are being a dick.”

“Shut—”

“I’ve tried shutting up before, it’s not for me.”

I growl as I inspect her heel, then take the tweezers from the kit and pull out the shard of ceramic stuck in her foot. She hisses in pain, her hand gripping the edge of the table. “Going to tell me how the shelf fell?”

“Going to tell me why you have an erection tenting your sweats?”

My hand tightens around her ankle. As if I wasn’t already on edge, she has to call attention to that . I swallow hard and ignore her, cleaning out the bloody wound and wrapping it. “Shouldn’t need stitches.”

“Thanks.” She shifts in the seat as if to get up but I lean forward, crowding her. Cat looks up at me, her brown eyes narrowing. “What?”

“How’d the shelf fall?” I have a sneaking suspicion about what happened, but I want her to confirm her stubbornness got in her own way.

She leans in closer as if to challenge me. My heart races and my fucking dick twitches. Her full lips are so close to mine.

“I was trying to reach for a bowl. I was able to scoot it and then I sort of slipped and grabbed the shelf.”

“In other words, you didn’t use the damn step stool I left for you.” She moves to stand once again and I grip the arm rests. “Stop being stubborn and ask for help when you need it.”

Cat snarls, her upper lip twitching. “Thanks for fixing my foot, but if you don’t get out of my face we’re going to have a problem.”

I smirk and lift her out of the chair.

“Put me down. I can walk myself.”

“No.”

My arms tighten around her. She fits perfectly against me, even if she looks like she’s about to claw out my eyes. I carry her into the living room, then place her down on the sofa. After, I grab a couple of pillows to elevate her foot.

“Shouldn’t you go finish your shower?” Her gaze moves from my face to what I know is still visible in these threadbare sweats.

Thankfully, my kids have no idea what she’s referring to. I head back into the kitchen and start cleaning.

Fucking stubborn Hellcat is too proud to use a step stool. And that mouth of hers doesn’t stop.

I adjust myself, my dick still hard.

She’s got one thing right. After I’m finished cleaning, I’m going to need to finish taking care of what I started in the shower because fuck if my thoughts aren’t going to stuffing that sassy mouth of hers.