Page 18 of Carte

“I know you’re awake,” he said.

I pushed the pillow up, enough just to free my mouth, and said, “Then admire my commitment to silence.”

“Don’t know who you’re trying to fool, but you don’t know the meaning of the word,” he said. “Now, get your ass up. Cassie’s been blowing up my phone because she can’t reach you.”

I threw the pillow and sheets from my body, got up, and marched to the door. Yanking it open, I was ready to tear him a new one, but I was not prepared for what waited for me on the other side.

He stood there, one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed on his chest. The pose made his muscles stand at attention, and my mouth started to water.

He wasn’t dressed in his usual crisp, white shirt, opened at the collar, and a black suit. No, he was wearing a black T-shirt that had molded itself to his chest and washed-out jeans that only came from the wear and tear of years wearing them, not the artificial kind made in a factory somewhere. His hair was tousled like he was running his hand through it all night. I had an urge to do the same, run my hands to the brown strands, or fist my hands in them as he…

Damnit! Stop, Harley! Even chastising myself didn't help. In order to try and distract my wayward thoughts I looked elsewhere. It was a mistake.

His eyes still had a hint of sleep in them, that laziness that pulled you in to do all kinds of fun stuff for the purpose of waking up. His mouth was hitched on one side and his feet were bare.

“Jesus,” I muttered, caught off guard by the sheer male perfection that was standing casually before me.

“Carter is fine. No need for formalities,” he quipped.

What the… I looked harder. His head was tilted down, his mouth curved slightly, and his eyes gleaned with satisfaction. He looked like a giddy boy. It was such a good look on him, I had the urge to step right up to him and remove the smirk off his face. Preferably by kissing it off.

Like he had a direct line to my thoughts, his eyes flashed, and zeroed in on my mouth, before quick as a flash, he moved back up, and straightened. “Let’s go, Dynamo. Your presence was requested.”

“I told you, I want silence. I committed myself to it for the next few days.” I turned on the spot and watched him walk casually through the suite. He looked like he belonged here.

No, he looked like he belonged here with me.

God, I was losing my mind. One moment I wanted him gone. Gone from this room, from my life. Now, all I could think of was how to tangle myself in him.

He was thankfully oblivious to all of it, as he sat down on a rumpled couch and pulled his socks and boots on his feet.

“Didn’t sound like it last night, or should I say this morning.” He looked up at me.

So, he heard me write. Damn.

I was trying to be quiet. I didn’t want him to hear the words that tumbled out of me the night before.

Words that came from deep within. Words that were about him, no matter how much I tried to twist them into something else. But I couldn’t focus on that, something else caught my attention.

“Did you sleep here last night?” I asked weakly.

He straightened then, one of his boots still in his hand. “Yeah.”

“Why?” I lifted my hand and dropped it uselessly by my side. “There’s a room right across from mine for you to use.”

He turned and looked over his shoulder, then slowly back to me. His next words came softly again, his whole face soft, like he was preparing for the inevitable bad reaction to his words. “Because you’re in your room. If I’m in there, I can’t see your door.”

“So, you’re sleeping here to what? Be the last defense in case of something?”

“Yeah.” He was watching me closely like he was waiting for me to blow.

Yeah.

Such a simple answer. Such a simple word.

A four-letter world that right then set something in me ablaze.

God.