Chapter 33
S tepping out of the OR, my last patient of the day needing a C-section, I scrub out, taking a quiet moment to do my breathing exercises. I haven’t felt dizzy all day and I think it’s because I’ve been hydrating like a madwoman and eating more snacks than I typically would have.
But now that my day is done, I’m not sure where I should go. What bedroom to sleep in if I do go back to Carter’s. One thing I know for sure, we have a lot of talking ahead of us. I don’t know what happened last night. What that was. Why he wasn’t there this morning.
We saw each other at work today, playing cat and mouse, him doing his thing and me doing mine. He never sought me out. His only words to me today were asking if I was feeling alright when I was gobbling down a protein bar and chasing it with water.
I gave him a nod, and he gave me one in return, and that was that.
He’s given me the space I requested. Too much space. No more calls. No more texts. No more seeking me out or kissing me into oblivion in a hidden corner during a stolen moment. The first time he’s ever done as I asked, and I can’t stand it.
I want to chase him down in the hall, corner him, and beat him up while kissing him crazy. I want the man and I’m angry with him and scared and confused and just fuck. I feel like a broken goddamn record. Scared and confused is all I’ve been since I ran out on Tony.
Screw this. I’m going home. Back to his place. I’m making dinner and then we’re talking. We’re figuring this out before this Cold War turns into something else. Estrangement.
Just as I turn to leave, a hand clasps my arm, dragging me along the hall in the direction of the locker rooms.Carter releases me, pointing harshly in the direction of the door. “Go shower. Get Changed. Do it now.”
Okay. This stops here.
I step into him, staring up into his savagely handsome face and intense dark brown eyes that never fail to make my body shudder in the best possible way.
“Carter, you and I need to talk. Not fight. Not stay silent. Please listen to me.”
He glares, grabbing the back of my head and dropping his lips to my ear where he breathes out harshly. “Go shower and put on whatever is in your locker.” With that, he storms off and I have to admit, he is pretty damn hot when he’s all worked up.
Still, if this is how he’s going to be, we’re going to have a long night ahead of us.
That is until I peer in my locker and discover the slinky red dress and matching heels with matching soles. No bra. No panties. Though I know I had a set in my locker. Hell, I had a whole slew of other clothes in here.
Carter Fritz apparently wants to play dirty tonight and I’m all for it.
I shower, taking care to shave my legs and then blow out my long blonde hair.
Makeup is next and I’m still in my towel.
I may put on that dress sans undergarments.
I might even be wet the entire night because of it regardless of whether he touches me or not.
But I’ll never let him know I’m anxious for it by rushing through.
No. The domineering and prickly bastard deserves to wait.
But the moment the luxuriously silky fabric slides down my body, I know I won’t be able to play it cool the way I hope.
The dress is designer, expensive, contouring every curve of my body to perfection.
The material hits my mid-thigh, my lower back, and the dip between my breasts with absolute precision.
The sexy-as-sin heels adding height as they make my legs appear miles long.
I don’t even care that I was on my feet for twelve hours today and that these bad boys pinch my toes.
Now I have to walk out of here looking like this. I feel like I should put on my lab coat over this so no one sees, but Carter must have taken that too.
I paint my lips red, giving them a smack before I wink at myself in the mirror.
What is it about a hot dress and a killer pair of heels that undeniably makes you feel beyond sexy? Or is it the man who bought them for me, giving me no choice but to wear them since every other stitch of clothing was missing from my locker.
Carter is waiting for me, standing against the opposite wall and when I get a good look at him, all the air leaves my lungs.
He’s showered too, wearing a dark suit, a white button-down and no tie.
And let me tell you, the man can wear a suit.
It’s like the thing was custom made for his body—which it likely was.
His dark hair is still damp, brushed back off his smooth face, his sharply angled jaw locked tight as his heated gaze sweep over me.
He pushes off the wall, stalking toward me with a predatory gleam to his eyes.
His hand drags around my waist, sliding up and catching the line of bare flesh of my back.
“Carter,” I hiss, glancing frantically around, only to find the hall empty. “You’re going to get us caught.”
His mouth hovers over my lips, breathing into me without touching.
“You look good enough to eat. And knowing you have nothing on under this dress is going to have me hard all night.” His hips thrust into me, proving just how hard he is, and I whimper in response.
Soft lips fall to the crook of my neck and then he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. “Ready for dinner?”
Dinner? Is he kidding?
“Are we talking actual food?”
“You said we need to talk.” A wicked smirk quirks up his lips. “Besides, I thought we’d play a little first.”
I have no idea what that means, but I quickly learn when we reach the new casino at the Boston Harbor. I also learn Carter has a plan for me. A plan to torture me. I’m starting to understand why he left me without undergarments. Why he didn’t speak to me last night and vanished this morning.
Punishment.
From the moment we step out of his car, Carter’s hands are all over me.
His touch, seemingly innocuous to everyone we pass—on my lower back, across my shoulder, skimming down my spine—sets off every pleasure sensor in my body.
He knows it too. There is no fooling him when it comes to the way I react to him.
Every tremble and quickened breath he feels and hears.
His hand sweeps across my shoulder, along the nape of my neck, taking my hair with it and setting it on my opposite shoulder. His lips trail up my now exposed neck. “Should we gamble a little before dinner?”
I’m ready to kill him.
“Whatever you want.” My voice is embarrassingly unsteady.
He grins against me, his tongue coming out for a swipe and my nipples tighten painfully. I glance down, noticing how they went from barely noticeable to the turkey is done.
“It’s torture, isn’t it? Wanting something you can’t have,” he murmurs against me.
A shiver runs up my spine as his eyes rove up and down my body with so much heat I practically ignite into a ball of flames right here in the casino.
“I knew you were punishing me,” I accuse.
“No sweetheart. This is just foreplay. The punishment comes later.”
Oh boy.
“What’s your game?” he asks, morphing back into a carefree version of himself, his arm panned out before us. He’s serious with this.
I narrow my eyes. “I think that’s my question right now. What are you doing?”
“Enjoying the evening with you. Are you not having a pleasurable time?” Rough knuckles swipe down my arm, his thumb coming out to graze the side of my breast.
“I hate you.”
He chuckles, guiding me over to the main casino floor that is teaming with action. The lighting is muted, soft almost, aiming for luxury instead of gaudy. Even the slots aren’t the typically loud, clanging ones.
“Craps? Blackjack? Roulette?”
“Carter?”
“Hmmm. Not much of a gambler, then? Too afraid to take a chance and lose? Here.” He slides his wallet out of his back pocket and removes a stack of bills, all hundreds. “Go pick one. Place a bet. Then we’ll have dinner and talk.”
I stare at the wad of cash in his hand. He has to be joking.
“I can’t… no. I can’t do that.”
“Sure, you can. It’s just money.”
I stare into his eyes and then around the room.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“What’s your favorite number?”
I lick my lips, my heart rate jumping even higher as he stands before me, staring down into my eyes. “Eight.”
“Eight,” he parrots. “Eight it is.” Taking my hand, he walks me toward a roulette table, just as the dealer is getting ready to drop the white ball onto the moving wheel. Players are sliding different colored chips around, stacking them on various numbers.
“Carter. We can’t do this. This is crazy. No one ever wins these things. The odds are like…”
“Thirty-seven to one,” Carter supplies. “I know. But sometimes it’s worth playing even if the odds seem stacked against you. Would you rather go with black or red instead of a number? Feels like playing it safe to me, but it’s your call.”
“I…”
Carter takes my hand and thrusts the money into it. “It’s yours, Grace, and I don’t care if we win more or lose it all. Take a risk.”
Take a risk. Not something I’m particularly good at.
“Okay.” With the money crunched in my hand, I place it down on the green felt.
The dealer splays it out, counting the bills. “Changing out twelve hundred dollars.” Twelve hundred dollars?!
Suddenly a pile of chips are dropped before me, and I move quickly as the ball spins around the wheel a mile a minute, placing half the stack on eight and the other on red, hoping this will improve our odds and we’ll win something.
“No more bets,” the dealer calls out and my heart thunders in my chest. Never in my life have I been this reckless.
Not with money or anything else. My parents had plenty of money, but I never felt like any of it was mine.
I was always their burden. The second I hit eighteen, they were done with me, never looking back.
I know what Carter is worth. I mean, at least what their family is worth—they’re twelfth on Forbes’ list of wealthiest people in the world.
The Abbot-Fritzes are insanely wealthy. Mega billionaires.
But I never think of them that way. Oliver has always been Oliver and, well, Carter has always been his older brother or my attending or now my…
He steps in behind me, pressing my body back into his. Into his still hard dick that lines up so perfectly with the crease of my ass I’d moan right here if I wasn’t so goddamn nervous.
“I can’t watch.”
“Open your eyes and watch,” Carter demands, his cheek resting beside mine.
“This is how I feel every time I’m with you.
Heart racing, palms sweaty. You’re a bet I never know if I’ll win or lose.
You push me well past my comfort zone, nearly to the point of pain.
You drive me mad. Terrify me to no end. And no matter what, I always say and do the wrong thing with you.
But you’re a high, Grace. A fucking high.
A risk worth taking over and over again. ”
Jesus. This man. “Carter.”
“I want you. I want our baby. I want it all. None of this life is worth anything to me if I don’t have you. Take the risk with me, Grace. Stay. No more running. Let’s stack the odds in our favor. I promise it’ll be worth the gamble.”
Just then the ball bounces, clicking and clacking along the numbers, jumping from one to the next. I tense up, my teeth clenching down on my bottom lip. A zing of excitement catapults through me just as the ball lands.
“Red thirty-six,” the dealer calls out and I jump up and down with a squeal, spinning around in his arms and throwing mine around his neck.
“We won. Thank God.” I laugh into him. “I was scared out of my mind.”
“But you did it anyway and look how it turned out. You won.”
I blink up at him, my heart growing so full. “I won.” I won with him.
He smirks like Satan himself. “You got lucky with that, Doctor. Don’t think that’s how the rest of the night will go for you.”