34. Hello, Mr. Incredible
OLIVIA
Ever let someone blindfold you and fuck you into oblivion?
No? Shame. You should try it. Trust me.
I feel wrecked beyond belief. That’s the only way to describe how I’m feeling when I stretch with a moan that’s indicative of the dull ache in my muscles, coupled with the most glorious sleep I’ve ever had. This bed is heaven and so is Carter.
Except he’s not here and the bed is empty. So, slightly less heavenly.
Music floats up the stairs along with the sound of dishes clanging and the smell of something both sweet and savory, letting me know where Carter is.
And he’s singing.
I flop over with a happy sigh, not even taking up a quarter of the giant bed when I starfish in the center of it.
I must be crazy, because I might somehow be in love already. Except I don’t think I simply fell. I might’ve accidentally tripped over my own two feet and face-planted in it.
Heavy footsteps thud up the staircase, and I smile at Carter’s voice as it comes closer, singing a familiar tune.
“My girl! Do-do-do-do-do !”
The giggle that bubbles in my chest is both embarrassing and hopeless.
When Carter pops his head in the door with a grin so saucy and charming, I bury my face in my hands and curl over my legs as my giggles pass the insane mark.
“Quit your laughing,” he orders, strolling across the room.
Naked. Stark naked. Holding a tray of food.
Also, he’s naked.
“You’re naked.” I’m gaping.
He points to the ridiculous chef’s hat on his head that I nearly missed due to his flawless nakedness. “Nuh-uh. Got a hat on.”
“Uh-huh…” I’m not staring at the hat.
“I see you’re staring at Mr. Incredible.”
“You’re so vain it’s incredible.”
The smile he hits me with is extra smirky as he drops the tray over my lap, hands on either side of my face, leaning in for a slow, soft kiss. “Like I said: Mr. Incredible.”
“What’s this?” My heart warms as I blink up at him. “You made me breakfast?”
He runs a palm over his proud chest, nodding.
“Uh-huh.” He swipes a piece of bacon off one plate that appears to hold at least an entire pound of it, placing the tip in my mouth before he devours the rest of it.
“Bacon because you love it. Fruit and yogurt because they’re sweet like you.
Blueberry bagel with cinnamon spread because Cara said it’s your favorite.
And tea because coffee makes your stomach hurt. ”
“I l-l-l…” Oh my. Oh my shit. Balls. Oh my shit balls. I almost said it. Out loud. What in the fuck is wrong with me?
Carter lifts an amused brow, looking smugger than he ever has. “You l-l-l?”
“I—” flail a hand around, “—don’t know what I was trying to say.” That’s the best I can come up with? “I’m just overwhelmed by the thoughtful breakfast. And I woke up alone, and now you’re here, and you’re singing, and you’re…” I gesture at his body. “Naked.”
Carter plants his hands on his hips, swiveling. He sure likes to swing that thing around. “Is my nakedness distracting you?”
“I couldn’t spell the word if you asked me to while looking like that.”
“Mmm.” He swipes a smear of cinnamon spread off the plate and brushes it over my lips, eyes glazing over as my tongue flicks out to lick it off. “I like when I render you speechless.”
“Don’t get used to it. I can eat in bed?” The sheets are so white and perfect. There’s a good chance I’m going to change that.
“Yup. And when you’re done, it’ll be my turn to eat in bed.” The look on his face is nothing but starved, and my insides twist with delirious anticipation, because I can’t wait to be his meal.
Carter collapses next to me, munching bacon while he watches me eat, head propped up in his hand, elbow on the mattress, looking a lot like a model posing for a shoot.
The cinnamon spread is warm and melty on my bagel, and when I bite into it, it dribbles down my chin and drops off the edge of my jaw, leaving a drippy line over the swell of my left breast.
His eyes hood, and when I go to wipe it off me, he snatches my wrist. “Don’t you dare,” he whisper-growls. “Mine.”
He rolls to his feet, plucks the tray off my lap, sets it on the floor, dive-bombs the bed, and devours every inch of me four times over.
When we finally make it back to breakfast, the food is cold, my bagel is hard, and there’s not a single part of me that cares.
In fact, by the time he drops me off at the arena for my girls’ hockey game, I’ve had three orgasms and earned a McDonald’s breakfast. Oh, and a pat-pat on my ass when I twist to get out of the car.
“Was that Carter Beckett?” Alannah whispers when I meet her at the front door, eyes wide with wonder as she fans at her cheeks, staring at Carter’s SUV pulling out of the parking space.
He smiles and waves and Alannah jumps up and down, both arms flailing as she waves back.
“It’s him, it’s him, it’s him!” she shrieks at her dad, giving him a violent shake.
Jeremy barely resists an eye roll. “It’s him, it’s him. Woo-hoo.”
“Please do try to contain your enthusiasm, Jeremy.” Twisting back to Alannah, I pull a gift from my bag and grin. “This is for you, from Carter.”
She unravels the small jersey, jaw hanging while she examines it. “To Alannah. Hustle hard, hip check harder. Carter Beckett.” She stares up at me, unblinking. “Omigod, omigod, oh my God !”
Jeremy’s still unimpressed, yet oddly enough, holds one expectant hand out to me.
I arch a brow. “Can I help you?”
“Where’s mine?”
“Your what?”
“My…my jersey.” He gapes. “You…didn’t you…you didn’t—”
“Relax,” I say with a smug grin, pulling his jersey out. I’m giddy with anticipation. I might have dictated the message Carter wrote on Jeremy’s jersey.
He holds it up in front of his face as he reads, which sucks, because now I can’t see his expression.
“To Jeremy. Don’t be an asshole to your sister.
Carter Beckett.” He drops the shirt across his hips, giving me a clear view of his face, which is…
ecstatic. “Oh my God. He signed my jersey. Carter Beckett signed my jersey !”
Oh for fuck’s sake.
* * *
I’m at least five pounds heavier than when I walked in here. Which was approximately seven minutes ago. Seem impossible? Nothing’s impossible with Cara.
“Do we need all these snacks?” The box of Milk Duds shoved in my coat pocket wiggles itself free, and I slam my elbow against my hip to trap it there, then proceed to waddle down our row.
I’ve got a can of beer in my other pocket, a package of Twizzlers shoved in the back pocket of my jeans, another beer in my right hand, and my left arm is wrapped around a bag of popcorn. “It seems a little excessive.”
“What a ridiculous question.” Cara scoffs. “Yes, Olivia, we need all these snacks. Don’t ruin my life.”
I honestly don’t have a clue where Cara packs this all.
She’s got a sweet tooth a mile wide but is one of those naturally lean women you spend your life cursing.
I have to take myself to work early every morning so I can spend forty-five minutes working off whatever chocolate-infused disaster I made from Pinterest over the weekend.
“Did Carter tell Adam what happened last night?”
I nod. “Poor guy. He’s so confused, and he wants to see the best in her, but he’s just not sure anymore.”
Carter had a chance to talk with Adam about Courtney while I was at my game earlier today. He said Adam was devastated, not for himself, but for us.
“Courtney said she was drunk and didn’t remember, and when he kept pushing her, she told him to lighten up and learn how to take a joke.”
Cara makes a low, scary sound in the back of her throat, the kind that tells me she’s not above violence. “Liv, you know I don’t say things like this lightly, but that woman deserves to have an entire hive of angry bees released on her.”
I snicker, and Garrett comes to a stop in front of the bench, sending up a spray of snow as his eyes glide over our snacks. He squirts water into his mouth and lifts his brows.
“Hungry tonight, Ollie?”
I send a quick scowl Cara’s way. “All I wanted was popcorn.”
“Well, whatever you don’t eat, I’m your man.”
Carter crashes into him from behind. “ I’m her man.”
Garrett cross-checks Carter in the chest. “I want her food!”
Carter shoves him back. “Nobody gets her food but me!”
“What am I looking at here?” I ask out loud, watching what appears to be a game of slapsies between two grown men who are supposed to be warming up for their professional hockey game.
“You’re looking at what I have to deal with on a regular basis.” Adam stops in front of the bench for a drink of water, giving me a sheepish smile. “Children.”
“The food is mine!” Carter shouts out as he wraps his arms around Garrett’s head.
Garrett wriggles free of his grasp. “I won’t let you down, Ollie!”
It’s at this moment I realize Emmett’s leaning over the bench, winking, and Cara’s aggressively poking the inside of her cheek with her tongue.
“Oh my God. You two are—” My words die a gasp that feels like my heart is leaping from my throat when Carter’s body slams into the plexiglass right in front of me. “Carter, for fuck’s sake. You scared me.”
He whips his gloves off, cups his hands around his mouth, and breathes on the glass.
The tip of his finger etches a heart into the fog, and when he writes C+O my weak heart takes flight, as embarrassing as this is.
The wink he hits me with before he skates away holds all the promise of the night we plan to spend alone together after this late afternoon game.
Cara tosses a mixed handful of Skittles and M&M’s into her mouth. “My God, that man is head over heels in love with you.”
My nose wrinkles, and I send a pointed look at the hand she’s dumping both treats into.
“That is disgusting and evil. You do not mix the two.” I twist back to the ice with a soft sigh, admiring the slowly fading heart on the glass.
“And he’s not in love with me.” But, like, maybe one day. I hope. That’d be nice. Or whatever.