Layla
Maverick
HI AMELIAAAAA
I’m still giggling when Carter straightens, glances over his shoulder, and narrows his eyes at me. His chest glistens with sweat, tattoos shifting as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Weren’t you supposed to help me?” he says in a teasing tone, and I already know where this is going.
I flash him my sweetest smile. “I am helping. I’m supervising my husband.”
He drops the hammer with a loud clank, stalks toward me, and crouches down until we’re eye-level. His hand braces on the floor beside me, his blue eyes staring into mine, and suddenly the air feels thick enough to choke on.
“Supervising, huh?”
I lick my lips, unable to keep the wicked grin off my face. “Mhm. Making sure you’re swinging that hammer right. And—” my voice dips into a sultry whisper, “—imagining all the other ways you could use it on me.”
His jaw tightens as his nostrils flare. That’s my favorite look on him, when the gruff cowboy act starts to crack and I know exactly how close he is to snapping.
“Jesus Christ, Catalina,” he mutters, rubbing his finger across my bottom lip.
He leans in closer, crowding me against the wall until the dust sticks to my bare legs. “You think that’s funny?” His voice drops, a gravelly rumble that goes straight between my thighs.
I bite down on a smile, because God, I love poking the beast. “I’m hilarious.”
He shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath, then fists a hand in the front of my tank top and hauls me up off the floor.
My phone slips from my lap and clatters against the tile.
“Carter!” I squeal, though the sound comes out breathless, my legs already wrapping around his waist.
“You sit there, running that filthy mouth,” he growls, walking me backward until my spine hits the unfinished drywall, “while I’m busting my ass for you?—”
“You look so hot when you bust your ass for me,” I cut in, smirking against his mouth.
His breath shudders out, and then he kisses me hard, teeth, tongue, and heat, like he’s punishing me for every word I justsaid. I laugh against his lips until his grip tightens on my ass, making me gasp.
“Still supervising?” he mutters, voice rough.
“Mmhm.” My smile is wicked, even as he presses me harder into the wall. “Making sure you don’t miss a spot.”
“Christ, Catalina,” he groans, grinding me down against the hard line of him. “One of these days, you’re gonna push me too far.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” I whisper, dragging my nails across his shoulders.
His mouth is hot and rough on mine, as his hands grip my ass like he’s two seconds from taking me right here against the half-demolished vanity. Every inch of his cock is straining, desperate, and I know if I give him the word, he’ll ruin me in the dust without a second thought.
Which is exactly why I don’t.
I nip at his lower lip, dragging my tongue across it, whispering, “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk straight, baby… but not until this bathroom is finished.”
Carter freezes and pulls back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes wild, chest rising and falling. “Catalina,” he grits out, “don’t play with me.”
“Oh, I’m not playing,” I smirk, running my nails down the sweat-slick muscles of his chest. “You want me dripping for you? Begging? Better start swinging that hammer faster.”
His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, and for a moment, I think he might snap and take me anyway. My pulse races with the thrill of it, but then he sets me down.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he declares, towering over me.
