“Yes, sir?”
A chuckle. “Enough of the ‘sir.’ Call me Mitch.”
I hesitate. “Yes, sir—Mitch,” I correct, before he can do it himself.
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
The line disconnects, and I turn, only to find Carson watching me with an entirely too smug expression.
“Bet there would be no ‘Mitch’ if he knew you wanted to fuck his daughter,” he says, arms crossed over his chest.
I should let that slide. I don’t.
“I bet there’d be no air in your lungs if he knew you did.”
Carson presses his lips together, nodding once. “Fair point.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “So get in there and corrupt Daddy’s little girl so I don’t have to die alone.”
And I’m fucked. Not because of what he said—no, I can handle Carson’s brand of poking the bear—but because I don’t ignore the shift in my thoughts fast enough.
My gaze flickers to Willow’s door before I can stop it. Before I can stop imagining.
I picture walking back in there, shutting the door behind me, stalking toward her as she lifts her chin in challenge.
I picture bending her over my knee, making her promise to take me seriously before demanding as many orgasms from her as possible before sunrise.
I picture her saying yes.
I shake myself out of the thought before my feet move to do any of that.
“Hunter, you’re with Willow tonight. Don’t fuck her. And don’t let her sneak out, for God’s sake.” I toss her phone to him and then turn to Carson. “Let’s go.”
Carson salutes me, throwing a wink at Hunter as he saunters past him.
“Don’t worry,” he tells him. “G won’t be as grumpy in the morning.”
Fucking hell.
He knows I’m worked up. Knows exactly what I need. And my cock? It twitches inside my jeans, proving his point.
My teeth grind together, my jaw clenching so tight it might snap.
Carson stops in front of me, all smug fucking arrogance, eyes flicking over me, waiting for me to prove him right.
Daring me.
Teasing me.
I look him dead in the eye, my voice low. Dangerous.
“And Carson?” I murmur, stepping close enough that his breath catches. “You’ll be lucky if you can sit down for a week.”
His smirk widens, his pupils darkening, and—fuck.
I need to get the hell out of here before I do something about it right here in the hallway. Before I drag him into a dark corner and take what he’s offering. Because Carson might be a smartass. He might be an instigator, a little shit, a pain in my ass—but he’s mine.
And he knows it.
