Why I did what I did next, I couldn’t tell you. Something possessed me. “I dare you to go kiss Sloane.”
“What?” He pushed up off the counter abruptly.
“Kiss Sloane or drink.” I said tightly.
“Why would you dare me to kissSloane?” His tone was clipped.
“I don’t know?” Except that I did. Blondes had always been his type, and Sloane wasn’t just blonde, she was beautiful, and funny, and exactly Carter’s type. My stomach churned just waiting for him to go do it. “Is there a reason you don’t want to?” I asked innocently, while my heart pounded a mile a minute.
“Uh yeah, there’s a lot of reasons.” He downed the shot with a heavy roll of his eyes. “Your turn, a dare for you.” He refilled his shot glass.
“I don’t get to pick?”
“Nope.” The firm tenor of his voice demanded submission.
I scoffed, shoving the fluttering feeling down. “Alright, let’s have it.”
With a totally straight face, he said, “Kissme.”
I almost fell off my stool. “What?” I breathed nervously. “You don’t seriously mean that.”
“Oh, I’m very serious, Sarafina.” He repeated slowly. “I dare you to kiss me, or drink.”
“Carter, that would be totally weird.” As if I hadn’t spent all day replaying the feeling of him on top of me in the woods, wondering exactly what it’d be like to be swept up in those corded arms and then devoured by that perfect mouth of his. Would he be gentle and soft? Or would he be demanding and passionate? Honestly, I could see either with him.
“Kiss me or drink.” Carter hummed, his voice lower and more gravelly this time.
How long had I been staring at his lips? “That would be too weird.” I stuttered out.
“Would it?” He rounded the counter, making my breath catch. “Give me one good reason it would be weird.”
“Because you’re—you’re you.” I stuttered out ineloquently, breath pulsing, as he neared.
“And you’re you.” He hovered in front of me, oozing sex andpromise, and I suddenly worried it was a joke I wasn’t in on. “Do you want a minute to consider?” He asked.
“No.” I could hardly get the word out.I was a filthy, fucking liar.
Carter cocked his head, looking neither relieved nor disappointed. “Then drink.”
My throat closed up as I quickly downed the shot, and everything burned, just like I deserved. He refilled my glass, his gaze drilling through me with such intensity I wished he’d just do it anyway, but he didn’t.
He finally sat on the barstool next to me, and didn’t look away, didn’t do anything but wait.
“Why didn’t you call?” I focused on my shot glass too hard, still feeling confused.
“I was busy.”
“Liar.” I muttered, and he drank, confirming it.
“Why didn’tyoucall?” he asked.
“I was busy.” I shrugged, parroting him.
“Liar.” he parroted right back, and I simultaneously drank.
The tension between us was a band ready to snap as I filled both our glasses again. “Why did you do that thing in the kitchen?” I could hardly hold his gaze.
He broke first and fiddled with the pink hair tie stretched tight across his wrist.Myfreaking hair tie. “What thing?”
