Closing my eyes, I lick along the underside from the base to tip.
The sound he makes is low, almost pained, and I’ve barely started. I close my mouth over the head of him, tasting his clean skin. His hand slides into my hair, not pushing, just holding on.
I take more of him, relaxing my throat, and my eyes water. He’s bigger than anyone I’ve been with, and I can only manage halfway before I have to ease back.
“Your mouth feels so good.”
I circle the tip, then take him deeper. His muscles tighten as I hollow my cheeks. I use my hand where my mouth can’t reach, finding a pace that leaves him wrecked.
He watches me like nothing outside this room exists, and I moan around him. Pleasing him, knowing I’m the reason he’s losing control, only encourages me to keep going. I pull a groan from him, and it sends more heat between my thighs.
I don’t ease off. I want him to be just as desperate as I was two minutes ago. I took what I needed with zero shame. His stomach tenses, and each breath he takes is shorter than the last. I take him as deep as I can and swallow around him.
Moments later, he comes with my name on his perfect lips. I take all of him, swallowing him down with ease.
I sit back, and he drags his thumb across my bottom lip. They’re swollen. Carter looks wrecked, like I just took him apart. His hand moves to my neck.
“Come here.” He pulls me into him, sliding the blankets over us.
“How was it?” I ask, giving him a soft smile.
Carter kisses me, but this time, it’s slower. He’s still rock hard, his cock pressing into my stomach. “Unforgettable.”
His mouth finds my temple, then my jaw, then the corner of my lips, each one slower than the last.
“Stay tonight,” he says against my skin.
“Carter …”
“Don’t eat and run.”
I snicker, but then I sigh. “We shouldn’t do couple things.”
“Why?” he asks. “Scared you might fall in love with me?”
“Scared you might. I’m broken, Carter.”
“Guess I have until August 3 to put you back together,” he whispers against my ear.
His arm settles around my waist, and I press my face into his neck, breathing him in. Sleep, which refused to come an hour ago, pulls me under in minutes. All it took was being close to him.
Around three in the morning, I wake up, disoriented. I realize I’m in the Captain’s Room. I stay for a few more minutes, enjoying the heat of his body pressed against mine. Then I slide out from his arms and leave his room without saying a word. I take the stairs back to my room, understanding we can never uncross that line.
The early sun warms up the place, and I grow concerned the central air is going out. I turn every fan on high, hoping to circumvent the heat. I’m going through invoices when Carter waltzes down the stairs. He’s in shorts and a white T-shirt. His hair is still damp from a shower, and he smells like his soap.
“Morning,” he says, and I realize how good of an actor he is. His poker face is spectacular.
“Good morning.” I bring my eyes back to the invoice. “Rose made her cinnamon rolls today. Enjoy.”
The professional distance I keep is harder to maintain than I expected.
Carter moves past me and goes to the carafe of coffee, pours himself a steaming cup. Rose speaks to him, and they hold a small conversation before he lets her get back to it. On the way through the lobby, he stops at the front counter.
This time, when our eyes meet, he smirks. “I thought you were going to deliver breakfast this morning.”
He sips from the mug and watches me over the rim.
I remember what he said last night about wanting me for breakfast.
