Chapter 13
chapter thirteen
Carter
Ileave the door cracked, looking forward to hearing her footsteps on the stairs.
The cinnamon roll Josie shoved into my hands is almost gone. She wasn’t wrong about them being the best I’d ever have. The icing is still warm, and the inside is soft enough that I understand why she and Mia arrived at seven to grab one.
Wendy pushes the door open and closes it behind her. The lock clicks, and she stands with her back against it, breathless from the stairs—or maybe that’s her adrenaline.
“There you are,” I say, licking the leftover icing from my fingers.
She’s wearing a smirk that tells me exactly why she’s here.
I close the distance between us, and her eyes drop to my mouth. She tastes like sugar and cream when I kiss her. Her fingers fist the front of my T-shirt, and her mouth opens wider.
“I’m at work. We shouldn’t,” she whispers.
Her back is still pressed against the door.
“And yet here you are,” I say, against her mouth as she nearly begs for more. I’m so fucking hard, and there’s no hiding it.
She makes a low grunt, and it goes straight through me. My hands move to her waist, and I walk her backward through the room, barely breaking the kiss. When her legs hit the edge of the mattress, she sits, and I drop to my knees between hers.
She blinks down at me. “I really do only have ten minutes.”
“And?” My palms slide up the outside of her thighs, and my thumbs unhook the buttons on her shorts. “You don’t think that’s enough time?”
“It’s always taken longer than that.”
“I love a challenge.”
Her hips don’t protest as I reach to pull down her dark-washed jean shorts and silk panties in one motion. The morning sun splashes across the bed and her bronze skin. She shifts, and I hold her gaze.
She exhales and relaxes under my touch. “Good luck.”
I start at the inside of her knee, pressing my mouth against her skin as I work up her inner thigh. Her fingers thread through my hair, and she gives me a tug. There might be eight minutes left, but I don’t rush.
“Your scruff feels incredible,” she whispers.
I smile against her, still peppering kisses along her skin.
When my mouth finds her clit, her back arches off the mattress. She’s sensitive and responsive, and every sound she swallows tells me she’s holding back.
“Mmm. Don’t force it. Relax,” I say.
My tongue drags against her clit, and when I find the right pressure, her thighs tense around my head. The heat of her skin against my face and the taste of her on my tongue make me groan.
“Shh,” she says.
“You taste so damn good,” I say in a hushed tone.
I add a finger and curl it inside her. She bites down on her lip, enjoying every second.
My cock strains against my shorts, and my knees ache on the hardwood floor, but I don’t give a shit about either. My free hand grips her hip, keeping her steady.
Her breathing picks up, and her thighs lock around my head. I keep the same pace and pressure.
“Don’t stop.”
I slow to an agonizing pace, barely giving her anything. She whimpers, and I hold the pace until her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth parts. With an exhale, she says my name.
My middle name.
Her body shakes, and I stay with her through it. When I place a final kiss on her inner thigh and stand, she’s staring at the ceiling. She’s nearly gasping for air, her breasts rising and falling. I lie beside her with my head propped up on my hand.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are wild. She got exactly what she needed before the day even started.
“Think that was three minutes,” I tell her, curling a strand of her hair in my finger.
She laughs. “Real humble, Carter.”
“Proof that you were never the problem.”
She turns her head on the pillow and looks at me, then pulls me down and kisses me. “Is this what princess treatment is like?”
“Yes,” I say, wanting to pleasure her until the fucking sun sets.
She pauses for half a second before kissing me deeper. When she pulls back, the teasing is gone from her face. Her eyes are softer as she rubs her thumb along my bottom lip.
“My ex never wanted to …” She doesn’t finish.
“Fuck that guy,” I state. “He should’ve never let you go. Actually, thrilled he did.”
The words sit between us. Learning Wendy was with a man who never bothered to give her what she needed pisses me off. The amount of anger I have toward someone I’ve never met is irrational.
“Oh, you’re a grumpy little Care Bear,” she says with a laugh, noticing my demeanor has changed.
“You’re the only one who gets the care part, trust me,” I tell her.
She smiles, but I can see the sadness in it. “I thought there was something wrong with me.”
I place my fingers on her cheek, turning her gaze back toward me. “There isn’t. You’re perfect.”
Her eyes are glassy, and she blinks her emotions away. “I—”
“Wendy, are you up there?” Gale’s voice floats upstairs.
“Shit, shit,” Wendy hisses, sliding out of bed. “Do I look guilty?”
I chuckle. “Mmm. Kinda?”
“Shit.” She pulls on her shorts and glances in the mirror, readjusting her ponytail.
Footsteps start up the stairs, and Wendy pushes me out the bed and strips the sheets and blankets in her arms.
“I’ll be back later to replace all this.”
“Can’t fucking wait,” I say, waggling my brows.
“You’re trouble.” She tries to hold back a smile and fails.
“So are you,” I say.
“Wendy?”
Footsteps continue, and she snaps on the professional version of herself, then grabs the doorknob. She holds the comforter in front of her, nearly blocking her face.
She’s adorable.
“Yes, ma’am? Sorry. Carter requested a linen change. Stripped the bedding first,” Wendy explains.
“Oh, okay. The Baileys just arrived and are ready to check in. I can take care of it, but thought you might want to do that part with the fancy reservation system,” Gale says.
Two sets of footsteps fade away, along with their voices.
I sit on the edge of the bare mattress, tasting her on my lips.
Damn, I might have to give Reese a raise for sending me to the middle of nowhere. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
After I take a shower, I go down to the lobby for some water because I’m parched.
The dining room still smells like cinnamon and butter, and the Bees are in their usual spot.
Gale is in her chair by the window with a mimosa while Birdie works on a crossword puzzle from the newspaper.
At the top, it says Coconut Beach Weekly.
Lucille discusses how to whip strawberry icing while she doodles in the little notebook in front of her.
“Good morning, Carter,” Gale says with a smile. “You have to try one of these cinnamon rolls. They’re famous on the island.”
“I did. And I agree. Josie forced me this morning.”
“Josie was here? I had no idea.” Gale takes a sip from her glass. “You look different. Happier. Lighter,” she says. “It must be the ocean air. Does have a way of getting in your lungs and changing your life.”
“Part of living the sweet life. So many come to visit Coconut Beach and never leave. Has a way of capturing your heart,” Birdie adds without looking up from her crossword.
“Maybe that’s what it is,” I say. “I do feel happier.”
I’d bet my trust fund that Wendy is eavesdropping from the lobby.
“Seven letters. Starts with S. Secret meeting between lovers.”
“Sangria?” Lucille says with a shrug.
“That’s not it,” Birdie mutters, then puts on her invisible thinking cap.
“The answer is scandal,” I say. “I love crosswords.”
Their eyes focus on me a beat too long.
“Sit with us.” Lucille pats the chair beside her. “We don’t bite.”
“I was just grabbing water.”
“Have a mimosa,” Birdie says. “Also, I do bite, just not too hard.”
I sit because my curiosity is piqued. I’ve been warned about these women by several people, and I’d like to know just how dangerous they are.
Lucille flips to a fresh page in her notebook and writes something without looking up. Gale slides a mimosa across the table, and I take it because saying no would be rude.
“How are you enjoying your stay so far?” Gale asks, holding eye contact like she already knows the answer and wants to see if I’ll tell the truth.
“It’s been great. Exactly what I needed after working so much. The B&B is starting to feel like home.”
“And there’s no place like it,” Gale adds, patting my hand and squeezing it. “What is it you do, sweetheart? Most people can’t afford two whole months on the beach.”
The dining room is so silent, I’m almost convinced I can hear my heart thumping. Birdie’s pen scratches across the crossword, and in the distance, I can hear the clank of Wendy’s keyboard drifting from the lobby. I take a moment to sip the mimosa.
“I work in consulting,” I finally say. It’s not a complete lie, but not the truth either. “Took some time off between contracts because I haven’t had a vacation in seven years.”
The words come out too easy, like they always do.
I’ve said versions of this exact line a hundred times at different dinners and fundraisers when I don’t want to talk about what I actually do.
I can’t admit to the Bees that I’m the CEO of one of the most successful financial firms in the world.
Guilt takes over because these women are genuinely interested in my life.
And Gale’s granddaughter—who I very much like spending time with—is on the other side of the wall, listening to every damn word I say.
“Must be very lucrative consulting work,” Gale says.
“Yes, but at what cost?” I ask her.
“Only you can answer that,” Gale tells me. “Eventually, when you’re old, like us, you realize living and experience are more important than anything else. What’s the point of having everything you want if there is no one to share it with?”
Our eyes meet, and I give her a nod. “Great advice.”
Birdie fills in another answer on her crossword. “Do you have any kids?”
Gale swats her arm. “Don’t be too nosy.”
“Not yet. Hopefully eventually.”
“Really?” Gale is suddenly intrigued. “How many do you want?”
“Four. At least.”