“You’re a hot mess.”
The smile instantly switched to indignation. “What?”
“You said it yourself,” she pointed out. Now it was her turn to smile. “But guess what? I don’t care. I’m not going to push you, but my bedroom door is open and it’s going to stay open. You can walk in right here, right now. Or you can wait till we get home and bathe in disinfectant and then moisturize and apply your expensive cologne and manicure your eyebrows—”
“I do not manicure my eyebrows!”
“Liar. Anyway, either way, my door is open and it stays open. But I’m not going to push you and give you a headache. You sort your own stuff out, or let me help you with it if you want.” She paused, hoping he’d agree to let her help, but he didn’t speak. “Whatever you want. But the ball’s inyourcourt, Carter Howe.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Would you still want me to walk in if there were things you didn’t know about me?”
“Iknowthere’s things I don’t know about you.”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Not like that. I mean… Bad things. Upsetting things. Gross things.”
“Carter, there are bad, upsetting, gross things you don’t know about me. Every person alive has bad, upsetting, gross things they’d rather not have anyone know about.”
“Not like mine.” He eyed her, frowning. “I assume.”
Fen shrugged. “Since you’re not going to tell me what they are and I don’t want to tell you gross stuff about me, I guess we’re at a deadlock. So I’m going to lay outmydealbreakers. Are you a serial killer?”
Carter rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Are you a cheater?”
“No!”
“Do you have toenail fungus?”
He laughed, then glumly looked down at his muddy feet. “I mean, probably.”
“Then as far as I’m concerned, we’re good.”
He took a deep breath, then another. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay.” Once again, there was fire in his eyes. “I’m coming in.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. She might have expected him to be hesitant or shy, given how conflicted he’d said he was, but he wasn’t. Carter kissed with confidence and passion and wholeheartedness, and she responded in the same manner.
The sexual chemistry she’d felt before was palpable, crackling around them like static electricity and sending delicious little shocks down her nerves. She felt like a match that had been unexpectedly struck, flaring into hot and brilliant life. It was instantly unbearable that every part of her wasn’t touching every part of him, that there were clothes in the way, that she could only touch and be touched lips to lips and hands to hands.
Fen slipped her hands up his shirt, caressing his chest, teasing his nipples. He did the same to her. And all the while they kissed, hungrily, unable to get enough of each other. She was on fire, every inch of her skin impossibly sensitive to his touch.
Without remembering when it had happened, she found that she was sitting in his lap, rubbing herself against his steel-hard erection, making little moans and gasps of desire. He was panting too, clutching her tight, their faces pressed together.
“I can’t—” he gasped, as she muttered, “Wait, wait, we shouldn’t—”
For the first time since they’d begun they pulled slightly apart. She had no idea how much time had passed. A few minutes? An hour? It felt at once like an eternity in Heaven and only a few perfect seconds. The pale moonlight and flickering firelight made transformed Carter into some magical being of silver and flame. His eyes glimmered in colors she couldn’t name, and his tousled black hair had glints of ruby and ivory. Reflected flames danced in the depths of his eyes.
“We should use our hands,” she said.
He stroked her face, a touch so sensual and so tender that she shivered. “I’m good with my hands.”
“Famously,” she said. “Show me.”
He took her in his arms and lowered her down to the ground so they lay side by side, with one of his arms cradling her and one between her thighs. She did the same, gripping him in her hand. He gasped.
