CHAPTER 44: HIS WILDCAT

Catherine’s POV

We stood there like that for what felt like forever, his hands firm around my waist, our bodies pressed close enough that I could feel his heartbeat thundering against mine. My brain screamed at me to move, but my body refused to listen. Every inch of me was aware of him.

When I finally found my senses, I shoved him back with both hands. "Is the word NO, not available in your dictionary? Why are you in my room!"

Julian didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, with dark and hooded eyes, lips curving slightly like he found my outrage amusing. "Honestly? I tried to control myself but.." he said, his voice rougher than usual. "I can’t stop thinking about what happened in the kitchen. His gaze dropped to my mouth before finding my eyes again. "I can’t help it."

I crossed my arms to stop myself from fidgeting. "You better get out before your girlfriend walks in on us again."

He chuckled under his breath, that lazy, infuriating sound that made me want to throw something.

"What’s so funny?" I asked, even though I already regretted giving him that satisfaction.

He moved back a little. "Admit it, you are jealous."

My tone became tight. "You wish."

His hands casually slid into his pockets. "I don’t need to wish, wildcat. It’s written all over your face and your words."

"Oh please... and what is that? Wildcat?" I repeated with a frown.

He grinned, the corners of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly confident way. "A name that fits you, perfectly. You are always ready to scratch, hiss, and bite like you’ve got claws. You drive me insane but you are still very hard to ignore, just like a cat."

I glared at him. "You’re a moron. A complete moron. Never call me that.."

"Hmm," he said, taking a step closer. "I’ll think about that later but till then, you are my wildcat."

"I asked you not to call me that," I warned in a rising tone.

"Wildcat," he murmured again, testing it, like he liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

That did it. I swung at him without thinking, but he caught my wrist mid-air, laughing quietly. "Told you. Attacked just like a cat."

"Let me go," I said, struggling against his grip, but his hold only tightened slightly enough to make my pulse race for all the wrong reasons. Our eyes locked, and just like that, the air shifted again.

He didn’t have to touch me. He just looked at me like he already owned every breath I took.

"Why do you keep fighting it?" he whispered, with a low, coaxing voice. "You want me, Catherine. Stop pretending you don’t. You like being around me. You like it when I touch you."

My breath caught in my throat. For a second, just a second, I almost let him get into my head. The truth was, my body did react to him in ways I couldn’t control, but that didn’t mean he was right. I forced myself to pull away, shoving him hard enough to make him step back.

"How many girls have you said that to?" My voice was shaking.

"What?"

"How many girls have you done this to, Julian? How many have you seduced just to get them into your bed?"

The amusement faded from his face, replaced by surprise. "You think that’s what I’m doing? Trying to get you in my bed?"

"What else would it be?" I shot back. "You don’t even try to hide how good you are at this."

He let out a breath, shaking his head like he was trying not to laugh. "You’ve got the wrong idea."

"Oh really?" I looked away, forcing a laugh that came out hollow. "Then humor me. What’s your body count, Mr. Perfect?"

"Three," he said immediately.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. "Three? Feed your lies to those naïve girls who love to lick your ass. You can’t deceive me. And you sure as hell aren’t going to have your way with me."

He took slow, deliberate steps forward, until the space between us vanished again. That mocking smirk curved his lips. "Are you sure about that?"

My heart started beating so loud I could barely hear myself think. I stepped back. Once. Twice. My hand brushed the edge of my bed, and my brain screamed not to repeat what happened the last time.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"Thinking about what my fingers did to you in the kitchen, wildcat?" His voice dropped an octave. "Because I am."

I took another step back, climbing onto the bed before I could stop myself. It gave me a little height advantage, and maybe, a bit of courage. "Stay there," I warned. "Don’t come closer."

His eyes glinted with mischief. "Funny how standing on the bed while hitting from behind has always been one of my fantasies."

My eyes widened. "Julian! You are fucking disgusting!"

"Am I?" He grinned, already taking a step toward the bed.

I panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "How can you be so comfortable having so many sexual partners?"

He paused mid-step, head tilting slightly. "What’s wrong with wanting to pleasure yourself?" he said, a teasing edge still in his tone.

And maybe if I’d stopped there, it would’ve just been another round of stupid banter but I didn’t. I said the one thing I shouldn’t have.

I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "And you judge your father for having multiple women in his life. The hypocrisy."

He became silent. So silent that I felt suffocated.

The change in his expression was instant. His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened in anger or maybe hurt. He stared at me like I’d just stabbed him.

"Don’t," he said quietly, voice so low it barely carried. "Don’t ever compare me to him."

Guilt hit me like a slap. I hadn’t meant it at least not like that but before I could open my mouth, he gave a small nod, like he was done.

Then he turned and walked out, the door slamming behind him so hard.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the door.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. "Don’t feel bad," I whispered to myself. "He deserved it." But the words didn’t sound convincing.

I sank onto the bed, my legs trembling. Why did it feel like I’d gone too far? He was the one who broke into my room, who kept pushing, who never knew when to stop.

Still... the look in his eyes.

No. I wasn’t going to start feeling sorry for him now. I folded my arms, forcing my chin up. "He had it coming," I muttered again, even though guilt still gnawed at me from the inside out.