A smile curls my lips, the disappointment fading and morphing to a warm feeling in my belly.
Not long ago, he was shooting his gun left and right, killing men in cold blood. A ruthless murderer, seemingly without heart or soul, but this now... the small gesture of walking ahead so I’d land on him if I tripped... melts me in ways nothing else could.
Adding to the LEDs already under the cupboards, he flips on the lights in the glass cabinets. It’s not bright, barely enough to create an ambience.
Without warning, he grips my waist, hauling me onto the kitchen island, his bare, tattooed chest in my face.
“Wait here,” he commands, his eyes flicking from mine to my lips and back. “Coffee?”
I nod, watching his muscles writhe under the inked skin as he gets to work. I swallow hard, remembering all the times I watched him cross the dorm room at Lakeside to fetch a washcloth from the bathroom.
Memories slam into me, stealing the breath from my chest. His toned body hovering over mine, the intensity of his dark stare, the way he worshipped my body. Every deep, claiming kiss, every growl and pant leaving his lips, the sweat gathering at his hairline as he powered inside me, all the while holding my gaze captive. How he scraped my neck and chin with his teeth whenever I threw my head back, drowning in the high.
“Good girl.”
“Fucking come, Hailey.”
“There it is. Ride it out.”
“That’s my girl.”
“So wet, so tight, so fucking mine.”
My heart stutters. I clench my thighs together, forcing myself back to the present when Carter hands me a cup.
The rain pelts the bulletproof blinds, not as loud now, just a low hum, muffled by the blood pounding in my head. He’s close again, so close I see the lighter specks in his almost black eyes. So close I almost touch his chin with the bottom of my cup as I sip the coffee.
He sets his by my hip, his hand brushing my bathrobe. It’s the bare minimum of contact, not skin on skin, but enough to stoke the fire inside me.
“Why are you making brownies at six in the morning?” he asks, dragging his hand down my thigh. There’s fabric between us, but goosebumps rise beneath it.
“Why not? You don’t like them? If you tell me what you like, I’ll make that instead.”
I quickly shuffle my memories of him eating at Lakeside: sandwiches, steaks, burgers... always a side salad, sometimes pasta, fruits, and occasionally... a slice of cheesecake.
“Cheesecake,” I say, meeting his annoyed stare. “You like cheesecake... well, Nashlikes cheesecake. Do you?”
“We’re the same fucking person,” he seethes, his nostrils flaring, fingers sinking into my thigh. “The man you fell in love with at Lakeside is right here. And he doesn’t want a cheesecake.”
My shoulders slump, gaze hitting the floor. If he weren’t standing this close, making my body crave his touch, I’d probably pale, but my cheeks feel warm.
“Drink,” he urges, jutting his chin at the cup in my hand.
I quickly close my lips over the rim, and Carter uses that moment to infiltrate the barrier of my bathrobe, placing his hand firmly over my knee. Desire slams into me, the feel of skin on skin like a potent drug.
Everything amplifies this moment. The heat radiating off him, the storm outside, the barely illuminated room, and his dark eyes staring into mine, gauging my reaction.
“You’re flushed, pretty girl,” he rasps, equal parts possessive and careful. “You had another dirty dream?”
I shake my head, still slowly taking one steady sip after another, scared to make one false move and risk him stopping. That’s the last thing I want. His fingers start climbing. Inch by inch, so slowly it’s fucking torture, so slowly it feels like he’s burning a path along my skin. He takes half a step closer, stationed between my knees.
“Fuck, Hailey...” he grits out, leaning into me further as his fingers completely disappear under the bathrobe. “How’s that trust coming along?” His hand starts retreating and I snatch his wrists, halting him in place.
“Don’t stop,” I plead, meeting his eyes. “Please.”
His fingers gouge into my skin, sending a delicious shudder through me. He leans in, his lips inches from mine, hot breath tickling my cheek.
But he doesn’t kiss me. Well, not on the lips like I want him to.
