Chapter 11 #2
His dark eyes are hooded, fierce, his sharp jaw lined in a stubble it’s not typically known for is clenched tight.
His eyes capture mine and once they do all that tension evaporates as a slow, easy, sexy as all sin grin glides suavely up his gorgeous face.
He says something to someone and then he rises, stepping out of the booth and heading straight for the dance floor.
Straight for me.
“Is he your boyfriend?” the stranger repeats.
“No,” I reply, but with the way he’s staring at me…
My stomach tightens, coiling to uncomfortable levels as Carter saunters like a king lion across the room. People snap pictures, but he takes no notice of them. No, his eyes are solely on mine.
“I don’t think he agrees.”
“That’s not how it is with us,” I retort because it’s not. Carter doesn’t want me. He’s just looking out for me. Trying to be helpful and protective. Caring for his resident and brother’s friend the way anyone else in his position would. Right?
He brought me into his home and took care of me when I could hardly take care of myself. Even if I’d swear to baby Jesus he was hard today when he was teaching me how to throw a pitch. But wouldn’t most men get hard if they were pressed up against a woman they claim they view as beautiful?
Yes, that’s just biology. It means nothing.
I have no instincts right now. They’re all blind, stumbling around in the dark, banging into walls and furniture, and messing everything up.
I was engaged to a man who I swore faithfully loved and cherished me endlessly.
A man who was actually doing the exact opposite behind my back and under my nose.
How does trust grow—with anyone—after that?
“Whether it is or it isn’t, his glare is telling me something else.”
Carter reaches us just as the guy’s words hit the air. His eyes hover above mine. “Tell him to go,” he demands and because he did, my instinct is to fight it. Is to demand in return that this random guy with a face I don’t even remember stay. “Now.”
“Hey man, I’m not looking for a—”
“Good. Then you can fuck off,” Carter says coolly, no break in his veneer that is all control. All dominance.
The guy must be looking to me for an answer, but I haven’t taken my eyes away from Carter. In the next second, the guy is gone, mumbling something under his breath, only to be replaced by Carter who is standing obstinately before me, commanding my full attention.
“You look a little lost out here, sweetheart.”
God, how did he read that?
“Women like me are never lost. It’s all a matter of readjusting.”
A crooked smile curls up the corner of his lips. “That I believe. He wasn’t the right one for you tonight.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I wasn’t exactly interested.” I stare up into his dark eyes, trying desperately to read between lines that are impossible to find. He’s shuttered shut. A book locked up tight.
“Oliver ordered food for you,” he continues. “It should be at the table soon. How about a dance until it comes?”
Without a word or a second’s thought or hesitation, I raise my arms up to his shoulders, slipping them around his neck. “I’m not much of a dancer,” I tell him.
“But I’m a hell of a teacher.”
Don’t I know it.
His hands find the crest of my lower back, just above my ass, clinging to the line between my lasered-on pants and crop top.
His body enfolds against mine, a simple sway to an unfamiliar beat guiding us.
My heart isn’t listening to me when I tell it to relax.
It’s pounding along with the music, giddy and high with energy.
Carter clasps my hand, holding it firmly in his grasp before he shoots me out, twisting me around in some sort of crazy, convoluted spin of looping arms until he hauls me back, catching me, cradling me in his arm.
My breath shakes, my laugh high in my throat.
He starts to grind, to twist and dance like a man who absolutely knows how to move his body.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask, giggling uncontrollably.
“Fritz training program. It’s like rich kid bootcamp. Dance, tennis—”
“Oh, fencing,” I interrupt. “We should fence. I remember doing that with Oliver and Rina a couple of times when we were kids.”
“Some other time, I think. I’d much prefer to dance than fight with you right now.”
“Well, I’m certainly not complaining. Even if it is a first.”
I give him a cheeky grin, cocking an eyebrow, the lights of the bar swirling red and green and blue all around us. Actually, the only place we do anything that could be considered fighting is at work. This past week in the condo has been easy and light.
“It’s my job to be strict with you.” His gaze holds mine. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love our fights. But there’s more—”
“Hey,” Oliver cuts in, his hand on my shoulder, squeezing me. “Your dinner is at the table. I know you guys have to get out early for your shifts tomorrow.”
I meet his green eyes and smile appreciatively. And by the time I look back to Carter, whose arms have dropped, and his body has created distance between us, I know that whatever this moment, this day, between us was is over. Tomorrow at work, we’ll be back to us.
And for the first time, I can’t help but be a little disappointed by that.