14. Doomsday
OLIVIA
I’m sure I’m not entirely in my right mind.
It’s part alcohol, but mostly delirious, undeniable attraction to the man currently standing behind me, slack-jawed at the sight before him.
The sight is me, braless, asking him to take my dress off.
And in case he’s not certain of what I’m asking, I place his hands on my hips, sliding them up to the dip of my waist as my bottom lip slides between my teeth.
“Guess you can just slip it off then.”
Who am I? I don’t know. A girl who’s going to take life by the balls, I guess. Or rather, Carter Beckett. I’m going to take Carter Beckett by the balls.
Like I said, I’m not sure I’m all there right now. This feels like something I might regret in the morning, one of those stupid decisions Cara warned me about before walking out of here.
But the thing is…I want him. I like him, as much as I know I shouldn’t. Because this can only end one way: me, heartbroken and disappointed, potentially crying into a Big Mac or a vat of cookie dough. Maybe both.
Preferably both.
I guess I’ve decided the fallout is something I’m willing to deal with, because here I am in Carter’s bathroom, asking him to undress me.
Maybe it was his defeated expression when he talked about the lack of trust everyone has in him.
Maybe it was him asking me to stay, promising me movies and breakfast. Maybe it was him sitting there next to me, talking to me, absolutely riveted while he listened to me speak.
He wasn’t Carter Beckett, arrogant hockey phenomenon and ladies’ man. He was just…Carter.
And I like him that way, when all the walls fall away, something I’m willing to bet not many get to experience. Maybe that made me feel special. Maybe it put some stock in his words. Maybe…maybe I trust him a little more than I did when I walked through the front door several hours ago.
I don’t know. The only thing I do know is I can’t fight this anymore. I’m tired.
Carter’s hold on my waist tightens, squeezing, and I can’t help but marvel at how effortless it would be for him to wreck me in the most ravenous, drugging way. He’s barely touched me and I already want to come back for seconds.
His chest brushes my back, and I feel the weight of his apprehension with each staggering breath he takes as our gazes stay locked on each other’s reflection. I tip my head back, and when my fingers dance along the curve of his neck, he dips his face and smiles down at me.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and the moment I nod his mouth descends. It’s tender and soft, teasing and tasting, lingering, and I want more. More of this, more of him.
I sink my fingers into his silky waves, tugging him closer, and when his tongue laps at mine, he steals the whimper right from my throat.
His large hand slides up my belly, brushing my breasts before it wraps gently around my neck, fingers lightly pressing in as he keeps me there, like my mouth is his to explore.
When he breaks away, he forces my head up, something both dark and intoxicating in his gaze as it meets mine in the mirror, lulling me into a fake sense of security. I want him to have my body, and I want to pretend he knows how to keep all of it safe.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking small and delicate, I’m afraid I might break you.”
“I’m not made of glass, Carter. You don’t have to be gentle with me. In fact, I’d prefer if you weren’t.”
My ass is on the counter a second later, legs wrapped around his lean waist, my curls wrapped around his fist as he pulls my head taut. His mouth hovers so close to mine that I can’t tell who each erratic breath belongs to as we breathe each other in.
Rough fingers scrape up my thigh, slipping below the hem of my dress, pushing it up until it pools around my hips, and when he wraps a hand around my bare waist, my entire body trembles.
Carter’s heated gaze dips to the space between us, and his throat bobs. “Fuck,” he husks, staring down at the damp spot in the center of my panties. His gaze flips to mine as he slowly brushes his thumb over the nub that’s already cramping with need. When I whimper, his mouth crashes down on me.
He shifts against me, a slow grind that makes my head fall, opening up my neck to him as his mouth slides over my skin, hot, wet kisses that have my hips lifting, desperate for the friction of his thick weight between my legs.
He gives it to me, hands sliding beneath me, kneading my ass, pulling me closer, and I want these layers gone.
Gentle nips trail my jaw until his lips find my ear. “If we do this, Olivia, there’s no going back.”
I don’t know what that means. No going back from what? If we do this, it’s the beginning of something. Something intimate and feral, and maybe something more, but more than likely, the beginning of the end.
A murmur of grief echoes in my chest, reminding me that this isn’t me, that I want so much more than fleeting nights and good-byes.
The steady, quick thud of my heart tells me to give up the fight just for tonight, to embrace it for what it is: one night of guaranteed passion with the man I can’t stop thinking about.
Tucked deep below all that is the part of me with very real fears and insecurities, the part that’s been comparing myself to the women wrapped around his arm in every picture.
That’s the part that’s likely to take over tomorrow when I’m sober, kick my inebriated self in the ass for making a decision that leads me further down the rabbit hole.
But the chemistry between us buzzes like a live wire, connecting us, making it impossible for me to think clearly right now. I know what I want, and what I want is this man—inside of me, all over me, taking, possessing, over and over again.
That’s probably why, “If you want me, you can have me,” is what comes out of my mouth.
With one fell swoop, I’m on my feet, back pressed to Carter’s firm body, my dress in the clawfoot tub in the corner of the bathroom, next to the immaculate glass shower. Rough hands slide down my arms, gripping my hips, fingernails biting into flesh as his gaze rakes over me like hot coals.
Soft lips press tender kisses across my shoulder, down the slope of my spine as Carter hooks his thumbs into my panties and slowly lowers himself to his knees, taking the blushing lace with him as he goes.
His warm mouth slides up the back of my thigh as he kneads my muscles, and when one hand slips between my legs where my heartbeat has found itself, I squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto the edge of the counter for dear life.
“You’re nervous,” Carter murmurs, splaying a hand over my lower belly as it quivers.
Nervous, drunk on raw desire, terrified of the generous helping of honest to goodness feelings that scare the shit out of me…All of it swirls inside me, grabbing hold of my heart, clenching it like a fist.
“Fucking stunning.” The words are a wonderous whisper as his fingers glide through the wetness spread between my thighs.
He stands, kisses my neck, and holds my gaze.
“Flawless.” The hand on my belly coasts up until it palms one breast, rolling my taut nipple.
His teeth scrape my ear. “How wet are you?”
“Oh God.” My head lolls forward with a moan, and when he chuckles, I shiver. The answer is drenched , and he knows it. We can both feel it, the heat, the dampness that pools there. “Touch me,” I beg. “Please, Carter.”
His touch ghosts over the area I want him most, and he cups me in his hand, a silent mine that I don’t miss. “Look at me.” When I do, he drags his fingers through my slick folds before sinking one inside. “Fuck.” His mouth opens on my shoulder as I cry out his name. “Such a wet fucking pussy.”
His fingers wrap around my throat as he thrusts inside of me, an achingly slow plunge that has me pleading for more, faster, harder.
Red heat claws up my chest, flooding my cheeks as flames spark in my stomach, making everything tingle and boil, like I’m teetering on the edge of a volcanic eruption.
I gasp when a second finger pushes inside, and everything feels tight in the most wonderful way as his hand moves, a steady drive that picks up speed, ferocity, until the heel of his palm slaps against my ass with each thrust.
Carter’s hand on my neck squeezes, a rumble in his chest as I take everything he gives me, including the words he forces down my throat when his mouth takes mine. “Good girl.”
Everything inside me comes to a rolling boil, spilling over, and Carter keeps me locked to his chest as he releases my neck to work the tight bundle of nerves at the cleft of my thighs, smiling against my skin when his name explodes off my lips.
Without hesitation, he bends and circles my knees, flinging me over his shoulder, ignoring my yelp.
His hand covers my ass as he marches into the bedroom and tosses me down on the bed with a bounce.
He smiles when I giggle, arms sweeping over the bedding as I bury my head in the fluffy pillows and moan.
“I never want to leave this bed.”
He tears his shirt overhead, steps out of his jeans, and crawls over me, kissing the corner of my mouth before I have time to admire how beautiful his body is. “So don’t. Think I could keep you forever.”
I bury the feeling that fuels in my chest and burns in my belly way down deep inside me, because that’s a dangerous thing to think he might mean. I may be slightly intoxicated, but after tonight, I’m 100 percent positive Carter Beckett is a man I could fall in love with.
I’m not a one-night stand girl; I’ve already said that.
For me, sex comes after feelings. I might have failed to mention that I rarely catch feelings.
It’s a blessing or a curse; I haven’t decided yet.
I look for a real connection and those are hard to come by.
It also means that in my twenty-five years I’ve only had sex with two men, quite the contrast from Carter’s list.