“Good,” I quickly say. “Just stuck.”
“Stuck?”
I turn around and look at him over my shoulder. “Can you help?”
I face forward, but there’s a floor-length mirror on the wall in front of me, so I watch him approach and stop directly behind me. His gaze down, he uses one hand to sweep my hair to the side, pushing it over one shoulder, then he uses his big hands to wiggle the zipper free.
Slowly, he slides it down, his fingers barely brushing along my spine until he reaches the small of my back. I watchhim through the mirror, and I swear it looks like he’s leaning in, but then he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a step back, letting his hands fall from my body.
I hold the dress to my front—it has a built-in bra and I’m suddenly feeling the lack of support—and slowly turn around. My eyes catch on a necklace looped around Carter’s neck. It looks like a penny—an actual penny—with a hole drilled through it so it fits on a chain.
I want to ask him about it, but I’m not foolish enough to start any kind of conversation when I’m this close to being completely undressed.
I lift my eyes to meet his. “Thank you,” I say.
He licks his lips, his voice low as he says, “No problem.”
Those lips…it would be so easy to step forward, let my hands graze over his chest as I?—
“You should get dressed, Sarah,” Carter says, his expression almost pained.
“Right.Yes.” I take an enormous step backward. “I really should.”
I take my time in the bathroom. I think we could both use a minute to regroup.
The conversation about rules—we cannot have it quickly enough.
Carter has given me a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved Jaguars t-shirt. Fortunately, the pants have a drawstring waist so I’m able to cinch them up, even if I do have to roll the waist down three times to keep the hem from dragging on the floor. The t-shirt really does swallow me, but it’s soft and comfortable and smells incredible, so I’m not complaining.
I’m running my tongue over my teeth, wishing I could brush them, when a soft knock sounds on the bathroom door.I open it to find Carter standing on the other side, a small bag in his hand. He’s fully dressed now, in a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt.
“I wasn’t sure what you might need,” he says, holding the bag open, “so I just had them send up everything that was available. There’s contact lens solution, a toothbrush, toothpaste, some face stuff, I think?”
I take the bag. “This is perfect,” I say, touched that he even thought to try. “Thank you. That was really kind of you.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. It might all be terrible.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. It’s probably exactly what I need.”
He lifts his lips into a small smile. “Good.”
I close the door and manage to get ready for bed mostly like I would at home. I take out my contacts, which feels amazing, and wash my face and brush my teeth. I squint at my bare face—I’m a little blurry without contacts or glasses—and wonder if I made the right call. This is the most dressed-down Carter has ever seen me. But maybe that’s exactly what I need.
To feel as unattractive as possible so I stop contemplating the possibility of forgetting the rules and just throwing myself at him.
I emerge from the bathroom to find Carter leaning against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, phone in his hand. As soon as he sees me, he sets it on the nightstand.
“Did you have everything you needed?” he asks.
“Yes, totally. Thanks again.”
He’s quiet for a beat before he says, “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
I look around the room, my eyes catching on a pad of hotel-branded stationary sitting on the desk. I walk over andgrab it, as well as the pen sitting beside it, and carry them over to Carter.
“I think it’s time for us to talk about our rules,” I say. I hold out the paper and pen. “And I need you to take notes because I currently can’t see well enough to do it myself.”
He takes the writing tools, then retrieves a pillow from the other side of the bed and sets it on his lap to use as a desk. “You’re farsighted?”
