“Aw, sheez, you say the sweetest things,” I chuckle.
“Don’t get too used to it,” she teases. “I have high standards. And now that you’ve set the bar, you’re not going to be able to lower it.”
“I’m pretty sure I can deliver,” I brag.
“Really?” She lowers her hand and curls her fingers around my shaft. “Like right now?”
“Jesus, I’m not twenty anymore, Andy,” I mutter. Not even nearly. In fact, thirty-five is in my rearview mirror. I hope I’m not getting in over my head with this woman. She might suck me dry.
“I’m just teasing, babe. Just need to know what to expect from my future husband.”
“Yeah…about that…”
“It’s okay,” she reassures me, then raises her hand to splay it on my chest. I can smell the musky scent of us on her fingers. She curls closer to me, giving a tiny yawn that’s too adorable by half. “You don’t have to worry,” her voice is growing muffled, and I realize she’s sinking into sleep. “It’s all good. I’m never going to fall in love with you or anything.”
And just like that, she shuts me out.
Chapter 8
Andy Carter
It’s night when I wake up and realize I’m alone in the bed. Mateo is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if he’s gone off to take another of those disturbing phone calls.
What the hell is he up to?
I can’t get the measure of this man. One minute, he’s planning something secretive that involves me; the next, he’s riding up to my defense like a knight in shining armor. It made my heart thump in a way that I know is dangerous. I have to stop it! But how? The lunch with my parents blew my socks off.
Nobody has ever stood up to them before…not since Kyle – I miss my brother so much. And there’s something of him in the way that Mateo faced my family so fiercely for me. Stephanie and Broderick Carter are society elite. And my father has bought his way into some of the most influential circles in the country. To see them taken down a notch nearly made me cream my panties.
I grin as I push myself up, glancing around the bedroom. The sheets are in a tangled heap, and my clothes have been scattered everywhere. His are among them. I feel myself go warm as I remember those moments entwined together when we got home. I’ve never had such a skilled lover. And I get the feeling that there’s not much I could do that would scare him off. I’ve dated too many men who’re intimidated by a woman who knows what she wants in bed.
And what I want is good, hard sex with no strings attached.
So, marrying the guy might complicate things. But it’s not like we’re actually in it for real. Getting Mark Whitlock off my back is a priority, and I think we’ve accomplished that – though it was an eye-opener to hear my mother assume I’d fallen pregnant. And then hear my father tell me to get rid of it.
Cunt.
I hate how they can twist me in knots like that. I’ve fought so hard to be strong and successful. And if I’m honest with myself, so much of it was done hoping they’d see me and be proud. It’ll never happen. I’ll just spend my life scrabbling for scraps from them.
The thought of it darkens my mood, and I find myself frowning. I’d woken up feeling great, and it only took a minute for them to fuck it all up. I think I need another “fix.”
I swing my legs out of bed and head out of the room to see where my “fiancé” might have gone to. With any luck, he’ll be up for another round.
“Mateo?” I call as I head out the door.
“You awake already?” he replies, and I feel a swirl of relief. Part of me was dreading finding him on a call, or worse, out of the apartment. I know I’d have leaped to all sorts of conclusions then.
“What you up to?” I ask, sauntering over to stand near the dining room table and glancing to where he’s standing at the kitchen counter. He’s freshly showered, wet hair curling against his neck, a towel wrapped snugly around his waist.
“Thought you might be hungry when you woke,” he says, expertly slicing a heavy blade through a pile of shallots. “You barely touched anything at lunch.”
“Are you trying to fatten me up?” I ask. I fight hard to stop myself from being charmed by this little gesture. I’m sure he’s probably hungry too.
“I don’t think there’s much chance of that,” he replies, running an eye down my naked body. I didn’t bother dressing when I left the bedroom. Not when I plan to be naked with him anyhow.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I joke, then back up against the heavy wooden table and hop onto it until I’m seated on the smooth, hard surface. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. That eyebrow lifts higher when I deliberately spread my knees.
“So, I’m guessing you’re here to help in the kitchen?” he asks, setting the knife aside and washing his hands in the basin near the food preparation area.
