Two Halves (Cate & Kian Book 2) Page 2

  Cate shook her head, “I can’t even look at you right now.” She grabbed a pair of pyjamas from the airing cupboard and went into one of the guest bedrooms to get changed.

  “We need to talk, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  Cate felt a huge lump form in the back of her throat. “That just makes it worse. I wanted tonight to be special.”

  “It was special.” Kian gently put his hands on her shoulders. “Come to bed.”

  “No,” Cate shook her head, “I’m going to sleep in here tonight.”

  Kian picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. “Put me down,” Cate struggled, pounding her fists against his back.

  He pulled back the covers of their bed and dropped Cate down on the mattress. “You sleep here.”

  “Where are you going to sleep?” Cate folded her arms across her chest.

  Kian walked across to his side of the bed, “right here.”

  “No,” Cate sat up. “I’m not sleeping here with you.”

  “Yes, you are,” Kian frowned.

  “No, I’m not,” Cate got up and walked to the end of the bed. Before she could get any further, Kian picked her up and dumped her back down on the mattress. “I hate you.”

  She tried again but each time Kian caught her before she could get to the bedroom door and threw her back on the mattress. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Fine,” Kian scowled. With her still thrown over his shoulder, he stormed across to the wardrobe and pulled out Bobby, the stack of cushions that shared their bed when Kian had a match the following day. “I’ll put these down the centre but you are sleeping in our bed tonight.”

  “Fine,” Cate huffed, turning her back as he arranged the thick row of cushions down the centre of the mattress.

  “Don’t even try getting up in the middle of the night,” Kian warned. “I’ll just bring you back again.”

  When Cate woke up the next morning, Bobby had disappeared and Kian was wrapped around her as if the argument they’d had last night had never happened. “Hey,” she whacked him in the chest.

  “Huh?” Kian opened one eye. He was still half-asleep.

  “What happened to Bobby?”

  Kian waved his hand in the direction of the floor, “told you I don’t share.”

  As he slid her back across the bed so she was pressed up against his front, she felt his erection nudge against her bottom. “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Cate yelped, thrusting her hips forward so she couldn’t feel him.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “Not happening.” Cate folded her arms across her chest. “Let me go.”

  “Not happening,” Kian chuckled, kissing the back of her neck.

  “Ugh,” Cate complained, lurching forward so she was almost bent double. “Stop kissing me.”

  “Why are you in such a grump this morning?”

  Cate wriggled around inside his tight hold until she was facing him. “I’m just doing what I do best, which is running away apparently.”

  “Fuck,” Kian grunted, “That really happened?”

  Cate went into the bathroom and ran the shower. She’d taken off her pyjamas and was stood in just her panties when Kian followed her into the bathroom. “Get out,” she yelped, covering her bare breasts with her hands.

  “Kian, I’m serious.”

  He stalked across the bathroom to where she was stood and pulled her to him, crushing her against his hard chest. “I’m meeting up with the squad in a couple of hours.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want to leave with us in a fight.”

  Cate slipped out of his arms, “we can’t fix this in a couple of hours. It’ll have to wait until you get back.”

  She quickly peeled off her panties and climbed into the shower. She hated fighting with Kian.

  She heard the shower door slide open and then close again. Kian put his hands gently on her shoulders. “We’re not good at fighting, are we?”

  “If you really meant the things you said last night, maybe we should have had this fight a long time ago?”

  Kian reached up and held her chin, turning her face towards him. He kissed her tenderly. He wasn’t always good at expressing how he felt with words, preferring to use his lips, his body instead. Cate couldn’t stop herself from melting into his kisses; he knew just how to touch her. His tongue slid inside her mouth, making her forget everything else. He stroked her damp breasts, teasing her nipples until they were stiff peaks.

  “We can’t fix this with sex,” Cate protested, feeling warmth between her legs.

  Kian wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her back against his front. “I can try, angel.” He slid his free hand between her legs. “Mm,” Cate whimpered, her head falling back against his shoulder.

  “So fucking wet,” Kian grunted, dragging his fingers through her damp curls. He parted her pussy lips, her arousal coating his fingers. He brought his fingers up and painted her mouth with her wetness.

  He kissed her slowly, licking every drop of her juices from her lips. “You taste so good, angel.”

  His hand dropped back between her legs and he tucked a finger deep inside her pulsing wet canal. “Ah,” Cate cried, her hips thrusting forward. He pulled out, quickly replacing it with two fingers this time. Her legs trembled around his hand. “Do you want to come, angel?”

  “Yes,” Cate said shakily. “Please.”

  “So polite,” Kian chuckled as he continued stroking his wife, touching the sweet spots between her legs that only he knew about. She was teetering on the brink; he had the choice of whether to bring her to orgasm. He pressed his thumb down on her swollen, throbbing clit. “Kian,” Cate cried, writhing desperately.

  He felt her break apart in his arms, against his fingers. “I love you so much.”

  Cate turned to face him, “I love you too.” Her black eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to run away from you.”

  “I know, angel, I know,” Kian held her close. “I just really wish I didn’t have to leave in a couple of hours.”

  Cate looked up at him, “you’re playing in a World Cup, that’s a big deal. You’ve waited a long time for this. I don’t want what happened last night to ruin it for you. I want you to be excited. I am. I can’t wait to watch you play. Lola and I, we’re both so proud of you. The things we talked about last night don’t need to be fixed right now; we can talk about them when you get back.”

  After they’d showered and dressed, they drove to Kian’s Mum, Jean’s house to pick up Lola. “Daddy,” Lola came running down the stairs. She was wearing her new England shirt with “Daddy” and Kian’s number 8 on the back.

  “When did she get this?” Kian grinned.

  “A couple of weeks ago, we wanted it to be a surprise,” Cate smiled. “She’s so proud of you.”

  “Why don’t I take a photo of the three of you?” Jean asked.

  Kian handed over his phone. “Just don’t scroll back,” he warned his Mum, making Cate blush.

  “Daddy, can we play football when we get home?” Lola asked. She had her Mum’s big, black eyes.

  Kian winced. “I’d love to, Lo but I’ve got to go to the airport after this.”

  “No,” Lola pouted, “I don’t want you to go.”

  Cate stepped in, “Daddy’s going to play for England in the World Cup, isn’t that exciting?”

  Lola looked down at her new England shirt, “I guess?”

  “Maybe Mummy will play football with you?” Kian suggested. “Of course, she won’t be as good as me.”

  “She’s better than you, Daddy,” Lola said. “She can do lots of keepy-uppys.”

  Kian chuckled. “She can, can she? We’ll see about that.”

  Cate grinned. “I’d challenge you to a contest right now but I don’t want to destroy your confidence before the World Cup even starts.”

  Kian kissed the tip of Cate’s nose. “When I get back from Portugal, you are so on.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Eng
land were beaten 6-5 on penalties by Sweden in the quarter finals of the World Cup.

  After the post-match interviews had been completed, the England manager didn’t join his players in the dressing room. His last interview was with the BBC and he ended it by announcing his resignation with immediate effect. The team showered, dressed and were waiting for him when an official from the FA came in and told them to board the coach which would take them back to the hotel. The manager had already gone; he’d left the stadium with his family.

  The hotel was only a 45-minute drive from the stadium but it felt like a lot longer. The pavements outside were littered with discarded St. George’s flags. Kian stared out of the blacked-out windows of the team coach, wondering yet again why the fuck he put himself through all of this. He could be home right now with Cate. He liked playing for England, liked the recognition that he was the best central midfielder in the country but he didn’t love it.

  When Luke Roberts, the England captain had announced before the World Cup started that he was retiring from international football at the end of the tournament to focus on his playing career with Liverpool, it had reignited the Club vs Country debate in the media but for Kian, there was never any question. Manchester Rovers was the club he’d supported since he was a little boy; it was the club his Dad had supported. It was one of the best feelings in the world pulling on that navy-blue and white shirt and running out in front of a packed Rovers Stadium.

  When the coach arrived back at the hotel, the team headed straight for the Onyx Bar. “You coming?” Yoakey asked. He was Kian’s closest friend in the England squad; they’d been team-mates at Rovers for seven years.

  “In a bit,” Kian replied. “I’m just going to call Cate first.” He really needed to hear her voice.

  There had been such high expectations for this England team, with the favourites Germany and Argentina getting knocked out in the group stages; some pundits had even tipped England to win it this year. The match itself was an even contest, Kian scored early but Sweden pulled it back to 1-1 just before half-time. The England team had been quietly confident in the dressing room at half-time, convinced that they would score again but Sweden tightened up their defence in the 2nd half and at 90 minutes it remained 1-1. Even 30 minutes of extra time couldn’t produce another goal for either side and so it was on to the dreaded penalty shoot-out.

  Kian, a regular penalty-taker for his club, stepped up to take the 1st penalty and scored it. He walked back to the halfway line and took his place with the rest of the team. Next to him was Frederick Meyer, the 17-year-old wonder kid who was being linked with a big money move to Real Madrid after the World Cup was over.

  Luke Roberts, the England captain stepped up to take the 2nd penalty for England. As he started the long, lonely walk from the halfway line to the penalty spot, the other England players stood together, arms linked in solidarity. A couple of the more religious players looked to the heavens for divine inspiration. Luke had a good record in penalty shoot-outs with England. The Dutch referee blew his whistle and he started his run-up.

  “You’re gonna lose,” Frederick taunted the Swedish players.

  As Luke’s foot made contact with the ball, his standing foot seemed to give way on the turf, he slid to the grass and the ball veered wide past the right-hand post. Advantage Sweden.

  The second Swedish penalty taker stepped up but ballooned his shot over the bar keeping it all square.

  “Told ya,” Frederick jeered as the dejected Swedish player trudged back to his team-mates.

  “Oy,” The Swedish captain shouted across to Kian. “Tell the kid to shut the fuck up.”

  The next four players from both sides all scored theirs to make it 5-5. “Yoakey, you’re up next,” Luke patted him on the back, “do us proud.”

  But Frederick stepped forward instead, “I’ll take it.”

  He danced towards the penalty spot, sticking his tongue out at his team-mates.

  The kid placed the ball on the spot and then sauntered back with a cheeky swagger. He quickly found the TV cameras and gave them a big thumbs-up.

  He ran at a diagonal and struck the ball well but the goalkeeper guessed right and saved it.

  The next Swedish player scored and that was it, England had been knocked out of another major tournament on penalties.

  Kian walked through the hotel; avoiding the packs of journalists, until eventually he found an empty corridor. He tried their home number first but it rang and rang. Then he tried Cate’s mobile.

  “Hello,” A male voice answered. Kian quickly checked that he’d got the right number. “Cate?”

  “Who is this?”

  Kian felt his blood pump that much faster. “Why the fuck are you answering my wife’s phone?”

  “Kian, is that you? It’s Nick.”

  The dial tone buzzed loudly in his ear. Kian slammed his fist against the wall. The fucking fucker had hung up on him. He tried calling Cate again but it went straight to voicemail. Questions like pinballs smacked against his skull. Why was that fucker answering Cate’s phone?

  Despite the fact that he earned millions as a professional footballer, when they’d first got married, Cate had insisted that she wanted to be independent and had got a part-time job at the Book Tavern, a second-hand bookstore owned by her sister, Liv’s friend, Nick. Kian had never trusted the sleazy fucker – he’d seen the way he’d ogled Cate – and he’d been proved right when he’d made a move on Cate at the Tavern Christmas party. After Cate had tearfully confessed what had happened, Kian had insisted that she immediately quit her job at the Tavern. He’d thought that was the end of the fucker.

  Kian stormed back to the Onyx Bar. He needed a drink, fuck that, he needed an intravenous drip pumping enough alcohol into his system until he could black out and this whole day would be just another fucking nightmare.

  As he stalked across the bar, he heard a loud burst of laughter from the other side of the room. Frederick fucking Meyer was sat at one of the tables with his greasy-haired agent and a couple of fake blondes in short skirts and stilettos. They didn’t give a shit that Fred had missed the penalty which had knocked England out of the World Cup. One of the blondes sat on Fred’s knee and as she kissed his acne-marked jaw, he brazenly slid a hand up her skirt. Even though he had a sweet girlfriend waiting for him back home, Fred had a huge shit-eating grin on his face. Ugh, Kian turned away in disgust.

  The families arrived and joined the players in the Onyx. “Keep them coming,” Kian said to the bartender.

  “You OK?” Sara, Yoakey’s wife put her hand on his arm. “Where’s Cate?”

  “Not fucking here,” Kian growled. He kept hearing that fucker’s voice going around his head.

  “Hey,” Yoakey said, joining them. “I know you’re pissed off man but don’t speak to Sara like that.”

  “Fuck off,” Kian grunted. He picked up his shot-glass and downed the foul-tasting liquid in one gulp, slamming the glass back down on the bar. “I said keep them coming.”

  Yoakey and Sara left him alone and the bartender quickly refilled his glass. He didn’t even like shots; he just wanted to get drunk fast.

  “Why is my wife not fucking here?” Kian tossed back another shot. The alcohol purified his rage, stripping away all reason, until it was like a razor-sharp blade. He ignored the fact that he’d asked her not to come to Portugal.

  Is that why she doesn’t want another child with me, because she’s too busy fucking other guys?

  “Kian?” Fuck, he was drunk. He could only just make out that it was Jenna, his sister Sinead’s friend.

  His thoughts quickly turned back to Cate. Was she there when Nick answered her phone?

  He grabbed his phone from his pocket and quickly scrolled back through the photos until he’d found the one he wanted. He’d taken it a couple of weeks ago. It was early in the morning; the sun was just peeking above the hills at the back of their house. When he’d come back from the bathroom, Cate had been stood there looking ou
t of the windows, lost in the view. The night before they’d made love and then fallen asleep on the daybed in the back porch so she was naked apart from their wedding quilt. Her long, inky-black hair tumbled down her bare back. The quilt dropped low enough that he could see the curve of her bottom. She’d looked so breathtakingly beautiful, Kian hadn’t been able to resist taking a couple more photos before she’d realised he was there.

  Except this time, when he looked at the photo, Cate wasn’t on their back porch. She was in a random hotel room and instead of their wedding quilt; she was wrapped in a white bed sheet. Kian scrunched his eyes shut. He could feel bile rising up the back of his throat.

  Nick switches off Cate’s mobile and places it face down on the mahogany writing desk. He walks over to Cate, who is still looking out of the window. Nick softly kisses her neck and she smiles, softening against him. Nick grips her hips…

  Get your fucking hands off her, Kian wanted to scream.

  He tossed back another shot, feeling the burn down the back of his throat.

  Nick turns Cate around to face him. He cups her bottom, pressing her against his cock. Cate giggles and wraps her arms around his neck. Nick carries her over to the four-poster bed and throws her down on the mattress. The outline of her peaked nipples is visible through the thin sheet. The sheets are rumpled and sweaty, proving that Cate has already broken her vows to Kian. There’s an open champagne bottle on the table, next to Cate’s discarded wedding ring. Nick takes a sip from the bottle and then slowly unpeels the sheet from Cate’s body.

  “Kian,” Jenna tried again. “Are you OK?”

  Kian looked down at his bare finger; he’d left his wedding ring at home.

  He looked at the empty shot glass on the bar. “Why is this fucking empty?” he growled.

  Jenna put a hand on his arm, “don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  “You’re right,” Kian slurred a little. “I’ve had enough. My fucking wife’s fucking cheating on me with that fucking fucker.”

  “Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Jenna said softly, helping him up from the bar stool.