Before there’s too much distance between us, I speak up. “Can I see you tonight?”
“Counting on it,” he says, not turning around to acknowledge me.
I walk up the steps to the B&B, giddy because I went and fell in love and wait for the sun to set.
Carter opens the door before I knock. His room is dark, except for the moonlight coming through the balcony doors. He’s in sweatpants and nothing else.
“Hi,” I say, my eyes sliding down him.
He pulls me inside by the waist and kisses me before the door clicks shut. My back presses against the cool wood. His greedy mouth moves down my neck while his hands slide under my shirt. I came up here, thinking we would be quick, and then I’d sneak back to my room before midnight. But his hands are too possessive, and so is his mouth. This is the side of him I fucking crave, and I don’t want to rush.
His fingers slide down my ribs, and he drops to his knees on the hardwood floor. My head falls back against the door as he takes his time, dragging his lips down my stomach and across my hip. He moves lower, to the inside of my thigh, making me wait. He pulls down my shorts and panties and pushes my leg onto his shoulder as he devours me. I need him right where he is, and if?—
A moan escapes me, and I clamp a hand over my mouth as the other threads through his hair. The house is full; we have to be quiet. The walls are paper thin.
I rock against him, and his hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as I come. Every inch of me shudders with satisfaction as he carries me to the bed, gently laying me down.
The sheets are soft against my skin. He kisses parts of me he’s never kissed. Carter starts with the soft underside of my wrist, the space between my collarbone. He’s taking his time, like every touch matters.
When he’s inside me, I match his rhythm. We grow desperate and needy, like we’re letting our bodies do the talking. His pace slows as the second orgasm builds.
“Shh, Wen. Don’t want the whole beach knowing I’m fucking your brains out,” he says, and I shatter.
I moan out, unable to hold it back.
When we come apart, we’re both gasping.
Neither of us moves for a long time.
chapter nineteen
Carter
My sheets smell like her. The cotton still holds the heat from her body. I press my face into the pillowcase and grin.
The balcony doors are cracked open from last night, and I slide on my joggers, standing at the railing. The yard below has been converted into a full-scale Independence Day production. There are folding tables and a photo backdrop that’s half assembled. Josie is in the center of it, directing traffic with a clipboard that’s decorated with stickers. She spots me seconds later.
“Hey! Can you help? Could use your muscles.”
“Good morning to you too!”
“Good morning. Now, please?”
“Sure, sure. Give me five minutes.”
I change clothes and head downstairs. The folding table weighs nothing, but Josie points to a spot under the porch, and I set it exactly where her finger aims and go back for the others.
“Could use a brother-in-law like you,” she says.
“You don’t have to suck up,” I tell her, grabbing the last two.
Cal passes me, hauling a portable bar on his shoulder. He sets it under the pergola and writes drink specials on a wide chalkboard—Coconut Crush, Seaside Sunrise, and Rip Curl.
“The Rip Curl?” I ask.
Cal uncaps a bottle of rum. “Three of those, and you’ll propose to someone. Ask me how I know.”
“Noted.”
