Dear Life(89)

Oye, I might be in trouble.

Sitting tall, my hands crossed on my lap, I say, “I can drink without you. You don’t own me.”

Stepping forward, his hand goes to the back of my neck, sifting through my long blonde hair. My head tilts up from his encouragement, forcing me to make eye contact. The intent in his movement is strong, and I melt into his touch.

It’s been like that from the beginning with Carter. I haven’t been able to avoid the electric pull between us. It’s heavy, intoxicating, inescapable, with the way his head tilts to the side when he studies me, or how his hand sifts through his thick hair when he’s trying to understand me. There is something so male about him that has my heart fluttering uncontrollably.

His voice reaching a deeper octave, he says, “I know I don’t own you, doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He leans forward, like he’s about to kiss me. Oh no, he doesn’t. Lifting my foot, I place it on his chest and push him away. Thank you, flexibility.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m still mad at you. You can’t just remove me from a beer-bike thing and drag me to some back alley with one street lamp shining on us and try to kiss me on your motorcycle like some kind of modern-day knight-in-shining-armor thing. I do have morals, you know.”

But now that I think about it, despite the homeless-man-pee smell, this whole setup is West Side Story kind of romantic with the dark streets, a light sheen of dew on them, and the brick surrounding us. Sigh.

“Morals, huh? Well, I told you I can be a real dick most of the time.”

“Is that supposed to be your excuse?”

“Yeah.” He lowers my foot back to the ground and closes the distance between us again. “It’s always my excuse.”

Irritated, I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, I don’t accept your excuse because it’s lame. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a beer bike to find.”

My attempt to get up off the motorcycle is quickly washed away when Carter straddles the bike as well, his body pressing against mine so I’m forced to lean back.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Inching closer, that sinister gaze of his splitting me in half, he runs his hands up my thighs until they are gripping my hips, his thumbs pressing inward, sending an immediate shock of pleasure through my nerve endings.

It really shouldn’t be that easy for him, but unfortunately, it is.

“Like I said, I’m a dick, but I know when I’m being one. Therefore I can recognize when an apology is needed.” His thumbs start to stroke my inner thighs, the tips grazing the junction between my legs. Oh Lord, help me, my nipples are hardening. “I’m sorry, Snowflake, for being such an ass to you the other night when my uncle showed up. You caught me at a bad moment. I trust you.” Pressing forward a little more, he runs his nose along my jaw and places a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Please don’t think I don’t trust you, because I do. I just don’t want you to see a shitty side of me.”

Focus on his words. Don’t let his proximity make you brain dead.

“I don’t know what this is, Carter, but if we’re going to be friends, I’m going to want to get to know all of you, not just the side you want me to know.”

“Friends, huh?” His mouth moves back to my ear and he whispers seductively, “Do you let all of your friends touch you and kiss you like this?”

Definitely not, nope, not a single one of them. Not that I have many. But Hollyn won’t be sticking her hand down my pants anytime soon. Although, I’m sure she would make a lovely mate for someone.

“No,” I answer on a hitched breath.

“You better not.”

His lips trail down the column of my neck, the buzz I was feeling being quickly washed away by lust for this man.

“Carter, we can’t do this.”

“And why the hell not?” He kisses across my collarbone to the other side of my body.

“For one, it smells like pee. Two, I’m still mad at you. And three, what about this whole girlfriend thing he was talking about? Are you seeing someone?”

He stills, his lips halting right before they get to my ear. On a huff, he releases me and sits up on his motorcycle, his hand running through his hair.

I wait for him to answer, feeling pride for standing up for myself. Yes, he’s sexy and he affects me in ways I don’t care to admit, but I still have my morals.

Let’s get a fist pump for morals!

“Fair enough.” Getting up from the bike, he pulls me up with him, my legs feeling weak from his touch. “It does smell like pee, so let’s go back to my place. I don’t like you being mad at me. And about what the guy said, my uncle, the girlfriend he speaks of, I have one.” A gasp escapes me. I ought to slap this man. “And she’s standing right in front of me.”

She’s what—?

Oh, he’s talking about me. Gah, he’s talking about me. My stomach turns upside down with excitement, my bones melting like a puddle right in front of me.

“You called me your girlfriend,” I say like a giddy little school girl.

“I did.” He smirks. Gosh, he’s so attractive. “Is that okay with you?”

“I think so.” I smile back at him.