“Your turn.” A wicked look stirred in his eyes.
“Truth.” I buried my face in my hands. “I’mhorrifiedthat I just said that—that you know I used that thing in your bed.”
“Truth,” he hummed, “why exactly were you using that thing inmybed? Hmm?” Then brazenly, “Don’t you have a boyfriend to take care of your needs, pretty girl?”
I shook my head no. Obviously not. He just wanted to hear me say it. Again.
“No?” he asked, feigning surprise, his voice low and pleased.
“Truth.” I breathed, my entire body trembling.
“Yes?” he rasped and took a step closer.
“I’ve had real shit luck with guys.” I whispered, admitting another little secret, and he stilled halfway across the room. “I don’t think I know how to trust anyone anymore.”
“I know.” He saidsogently, and waited there, glued to the floor. I knew he wouldn’t move, not until I asked him to. As if everything about him wasn’t already turning me on, his patience was too.
“Truth. You should probably know before we go any further that I think there might be something wrong with me.” I admitted, my voice shaky as I spoke the inner fear out loud for the first time. “Truth. I haven’t been with anyone in a while because I’m honestly not sure I’m any good atit.” Oh boy, I should shut my mouth now, before I said something I couldn’t take back. “Truth. It took me an entire month to muster up the courage to buy that thing, because I needed to take things into my own hands—because nobody’s ever made me finish before, and I-I-wanted to see if I even could.”
His eyes gleamedat that. “Nobody?”
“There’s something wrong with me.” My voice wavered, because a small part of me was terrified I wouldn’t be enough for him, for anyone. “I don’t think I can.” Shit. The cat was out of the bag now. That’s right folks, I willingly outed myself as the broken thing I was. What the hell was wrong with me? I had zero game.
“How many people have tried?” Carter asked, a confident sparkle in his eye at the unspoken challengein the air.
“A few?”
He raised his brows.
“Three.” I whispered, wondering if he thought that was a lot or a little.
“Truth,” Carter said carefully. “Can you makeyourselffeel good with that?”
“Carter.” I pleaded, heat flushing my cheeks. I was never going to live this down.
“Sarafina.” He waited,so patiently waited, even as I begged him with my eyes.
“I don’t know.” I admitted under my breath. “Kinda?”
“Hmm.” He mused. “That’sveryinteresting.”
“Carter.” It was practically a whine.
“And you still think there’s something wrong with you?”
“Maybe?” I whispered. “Probably.”
His smile was feline. “I can prove to you in fifteen minutes there’s not a damn thing wrong with you, pretty girl.” He smirked adding, “But just because Icanprove my theory quickly doesn’t mean I will. In fact, when I do finally get my hands on you, sweetheart, I can promise,I’ll be taking my sweet, sweet time.”
Oh God.I swallowed hard, the ache of desire blooming within me was growing more excruciating by the second, tempered only by my anxiety. “I think you’re underestimating my problem—not to mention that sounds more like adareto me.”
“Fact,”Carter emphasized cockily, but still didn’t move from where he stood. “I could make you come ten ways to Sunday.” He motioned to the dildo. “Usingonlythat.” He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers lazily. “Or these.Dealer’s choice.” He sucked his teeth with a smirk, waiting.
“Fact.” I swallowed hard. “Maybe I would let you try.”
“Fact.” He suppressed a smile, and it was the longest pause of my life before he finished his thought. “I wouldn’t have totry.”
My heart was about to take flight in my chest. “I think you’re overly confident.” The words were thin as mist on my tongue.
