Chapter 14
SARAH
Carter’s hotel room is lovely. Mostly because it’s warm.
Considering how much the temperature has dropped in the last few hours, I think I would have been miserable back at the Bainbridge.
Either that or sleeping on the studio floor downstairs.
Pretty sure it’s just my apartment that’s stuck in the Arctic zone.
Still, I’m not sure I fully thought this through. Because now…I’m in Carter’s hotel room. And I agreed to stay until morning.
All the more reason to figure out our rules and make sure we’re both committed to them.
After spending the last two hours close to him, touching him, feeling the reassuring weight of his arms around me—I need all the help I can get.
Not to mention that kiss.
On the grand scale of kisses, it shouldn’t have seemed like much. It only lasted a matter of seconds. But it still triggered something bone-deep, even visceral. I am very, very attracted to this man.
“Here,” Carter says from where he’s rummaging in his bag. He holds out some clothes. “They’re going to swallow you, but it’ll be better than nothing.”
Of course, my brain immediately thinks of wearing nothing with Carter, and a flush climbs up my neck.
Behave, brain. Behave, behave, behave.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice a little too breathy. “I’ll just…change in the bathroom.”
I step out of my heels and hurry that way, not fully taking a breath until I’ve clicked the door closed behind me.
I lift Carter’s clothes to my nose. They smell like him, warm and woodsy and so delicious. I have no idea how I’m supposed to put them on my body and not lose my ever-loving mind.
I look at my reflection in the mirror, clothes tucked against my chest. I’m always a little surprised when I catch a glimpse of myself without my glasses. My contacts are fine, but for whatever reason, my glasses make me feel most like me—the me I’m most comfortable being.
Wait. I’m wearing contacts. Which means I’m going to have to sleep in contacts because I don’t have any of my stuff with me.
No lens solution. No case. I groan inwardly, but what choice do I have?
Hopefully, since I didn’t put them on until late in the day, I’ll make it till morning without being too miserable.
I put down Carter’s clothes and reach for the zipper of my dress. I manage to get it halfway down, but then it snags. I shouldn’t be surprised—it was a struggle to get it on because it kept catching in the same place. I eventually got it to work, but not without significant strain.
Now, I can’t get the zipper to move in either direction. Up or down.
I try reaching around my waist and up. Then I try reaching over my shoulder and down.
No luck. I am officially trapped.
I’m either sleeping in my dress, or I’m asking Carter for help.
I sigh, hands propped on my hips as I study my reflection. Then I turn and open the bathroom door.
Carter is just hanging up the hotel phone when I step into the room. He turns to look at me, and my throat immediately goes dry.
He’s taken off his shoes and his coat, and his dress shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal his torso. His very muscled, very beautiful, incredibly sexy torso.
I saw Carter shirtless over FaceTime, but only for a split second. My memory of that moment does not compare to this.
I’m struck with a sudden impulse to cross the room to him, lift my hands to all that glorious skin…
“Are you okay?” Carter asks, and I snap my eyes upward to meet his. The look on his face makes me feel like a kid caught stealing Oreos from the pantry.
“Good,” I quickly say. “Just stuck.”
“Stuck?”
I turn around and look at him over my shoulder. “Can you help?”
I face forward, but there’s a floor-length mirror on the wall in front of me, so I watch him approach and stop directly behind me. His gaze down, he uses one hand to sweep my hair to the side, pushing it over one shoulder, then he uses his big hands to wiggle the zipper free.
Slowly, he slides it down, his fingers barely brushing along my spine until he reaches the small of my back. I watch him through the mirror, and I swear it looks like he’s leaning in, but then he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a step back, letting his hands fall from my body.
I hold the dress to my front—it has a built-in bra and I’m suddenly feeling the lack of support—and slowly turn around. My eyes catch on a necklace looped around Carter’s neck. It looks like a penny—an actual penny—with a hole drilled through it so it fits on a chain.
I want to ask him about it, but I’m not foolish enough to start any kind of conversation when I’m this close to being completely undressed.
I lift my eyes to meet his. “Thank you,” I say.
He licks his lips, his voice low as he says, “No problem.”
Those lips…it would be so easy to step forward, let my hands graze over his chest as I—
“You should get dressed, Sarah,” Carter says, his expression almost pained.
“Right. Yes.” I take an enormous step backward. “I really should.”
I take my time in the bathroom. I think we could both use a minute to regroup.
The conversation about rules—we cannot have it quickly enough.
Carter has given me a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved Jaguars t-shirt.
Fortunately, the pants have a drawstring waist so I’m able to cinch them up, even if I do have to roll the waist down three times to keep the hem from dragging on the floor.
The t-shirt really does swallow me, but it’s soft and comfortable and smells incredible, so I’m not complaining.
I’m running my tongue over my teeth, wishing I could brush them, when a soft knock sounds on the bathroom door. I open it to find Carter standing on the other side, a small bag in his hand. He’s fully dressed now, in a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt.
“I wasn’t sure what you might need,” he says, holding the bag open, “so I just had them send up everything that was available. There’s contact lens solution, a toothbrush, toothpaste, some face stuff, I think?”
I take the bag. “This is perfect,” I say, touched that he even thought to try. “Thank you. That was really kind of you.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. It might all be terrible.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. It’s probably exactly what I need.”
He lifts his lips into a small smile. “Good.”
I close the door and manage to get ready for bed mostly like I would at home.
I take out my contacts, which feels amazing, and wash my face and brush my teeth.
I squint at my bare face—I’m a little blurry without contacts or glasses—and wonder if I made the right call.
This is the most dressed-down Carter has ever seen me. But maybe that’s exactly what I need.
To feel as unattractive as possible so I stop contemplating the possibility of forgetting the rules and just throwing myself at him.
I emerge from the bathroom to find Carter leaning against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, phone in his hand. As soon as he sees me, he sets it on the nightstand.
“Did you have everything you needed?” he asks.
“Yes, totally. Thanks again.”
He’s quiet for a beat before he says, “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
I look around the room, my eyes catching on a pad of hotel-branded stationary sitting on the desk. I walk over and grab it, as well as the pen sitting beside it, and carry them over to Carter.
“I think it’s time for us to talk about our rules,” I say. I hold out the paper and pen. “And I need you to take notes because I currently can’t see well enough to do it myself.”
He takes the writing tools, then retrieves a pillow from the other side of the bed and sets it on his lap to use as a desk. “You’re farsighted?”
“Horribly. I’ve been wearing glasses since I was seven.”
“Maybe you can talk to Charlie. She just found out she needs them, and she’s not happy about it.”
I sit down in the armchair across from the bed. “I’d be happy to. It’s a big adjustment when you’re a kid.”
He uncaps the pen. “So…rules,” he says. “I’m not entirely sure I know what you mean by that.”
I hesitate, suddenly wondering if he’s going to think this whole thing is dumb. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing. But then I think about seeing shirtless Carter on the regular, and my self-preservation kicks in. Dumb or not, we have to have this conversation.
“I just mean we’re going to be living together,” I say. “But since this isn’t a real relationship, we need to figure out what our boundaries are so we’re both comfortable with everything.”
“Got it,” he says, a little hesitant. “That makes sense.”
“Also, what’s expected when we’re out in public,” I say. “Will we always hold hands? Hug? Are we comfortable with kissing? That sort of thing.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I think we managed okay tonight.”
“Right. We totally did. But I still think it would be helpful to talk about it.” I gnaw on my lip for a second before adding, “We need to be careful, you know? We clearly have…” I pause, suddenly nervous to finish the sentence.
I was going to call out the attraction between us, but maybe I’m wrong and it’s all one-sided.
“Chemistry?” Carter finishes for me, his flirty smile making my face flush hot. “Does that embarrass you? I’m not going to pretend like I don’t find you attractive.”
“No, I—” I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling very, very dry. “I was going to say the same thing. That’s what makes the rules so important. I don’t want either one of us getting hurt. Or…getting real feelings involved.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, his scrutiny so intense, I have to fight the urge to look away. A huge part of me wants to forget the rules. Chase whatever this is just because of how good it feels.
But I don’t want to hurt him. And I’m nearly certain that in the end, I will definitely disappoint him.
The reality is, if Miles hadn’t put him up to it, I’m not sure Carter would have chosen me.
And simply because of his profession, I wouldn’t have even considered him, no matter how charming I found him the day we met.
But throwing ourselves into situations where we’re pretending has the potential to confuse us both.
Make us feel and think things we might not have chosen otherwise.
I don’t want either one of us to fall into something simply because it’s convenient.
“Fair enough,” Carter says, left hand gripping the pen. “Where should we start?”