But I can’t think about that right now.
Right now, all I can do is gather her into my arms, press my lips to her neck, and kiss the spot just below her ear that makes her huff out a low moan. If this is all I can give her, I’ll give it to her for as long as she’ll let me.
“This is stupid,” she says, shattering the silence in the car, and I still. And then I practically hear her grin. “We have an empty house, and there’s a CVS between here and there.”
CHAPTER 25
DAN
My shirt is buttoned wrong, and Carson’s hair is sticking to her face in frizzy, half-dry clumps, but we don’t care, because the CVS by the highway is open twenty-four hours.
Though truth be told, I’d drive to Indianapolis if I had to, as long as I got to end the night inside Carson Webber.
Thank god there were no cops on the way here, because I tested the limits of my BMW’s suspension as I plowed down the dirt road, skidding back onto the highway like we were inThe Fast and the Furious: 2 Horny 2 Stop. I pointed the car toward town and stomped on the gas pedal.
The CVS doors whoosh open, and I take Carson’s hand, a thing I wasn’t able to do just a few hours ago. But now it feels as natural as speaking her name. And the way she threads her fingers through mine, squeezing like she wants to make sure I don’t let go? It’s as good as kissing her.
To say nothing of the white lace panties that are currently in my pocket. We played a brief game of keep-away back at the quarry before she shot me a saucy little grin and told me to hang on to them. The thought of her bare ass beneath that little dress makes me walk faster.
As we enter the too-bright store, I notice her craning her neck toward the registers.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I just want to make sure I don’t know anyone working tonight,” she says. “The one time I bought condoms in Cardinal Springs, when I thought I was going to get lucky with this guy I went on two dates with—he turned out to be in a vegan cult, I think? Anyway, that’s not important. The point is, I drove out to the gas station on the county line so no one would report back to my mother.”
I laugh. I love her nervous babbling and how she lets slip little bits of accidental Carson lore every time she talks. I suspect she thinks I’m not listening, or that I don’t like it, but the truth is that I collect those little bits of treasure that make upher.
“You remember that your mother doesn’t live here anymore, right?” I remind her. It’s funny how easy it’s become to talk to her. I suddenly get the connection Owen seems to have with Wyatt, that relaxed, lived-in ability to just…talk. In all my relationships, fleeting as they’ve been, I’ve never been able to relax into conversation with anyone the way I can with Carson.
“You remember the Cardinal Springs phone tree?” she shoots back.
“Right,” I say, dragging her toward the family planning aisle. I’m all too familiar with the way gossip spreads in Cardinal Springs. I know I’ve been the chief topic of conversation for quite some time, ever since the Securities and Exchange Commission officers showed up at Wyatt’s niece’s birthday party looking for me.
But I’m not thinking about that right now. I can’t, not if I want to do all the things I want to do to Carson.
We stop in front of the shelves full of condoms. “Preferences?” I ask.
“Isn’t that a you question?” she replies.
“I think in an ideal situation, this would be a cooperative decision,” I tell her.
She glances at the shelves, her nose wrinkling. “Nothing neon or fruit-flavored.”
“Noted. Latex allergy?”
“Nope.”
I stop, turning to tip her chin up toward me, locking in on her wide blue eyes. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. And I’m not going to fuck her over.
“And you’re sure?” I ask. “This isn’t a heat-of-the-moment thing? We don’t have to do this. Not tonight. Not ever.”
Her pretty pink lips quirk up into a grin. “Dan, we’re standing under the harsh fluorescent lights of a CVS. There’s no heat in this moment.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Speak for yourself,” I say, then reach for a blue box of standard-issue Trojans. But before I can grab them, Carson gasps, then ducks.
“What?” I ask, my body springing to attention, ready to protect her from a drug store attacker or a bear.
“It’s Mrs. Eberle!” she whispers, pointing over at the next the aisle.
