9. Bree
Chapter 9
Bree
H e’s on his way.
I don’t know what to say to him. He must have heard me talking to Mike, so he left. What did he hear? Did he hear me saying he was a rebound? That it was a mistake?
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, my fingers drumming anxiously on the edge of my kitchen table.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I replay the moment I blurted everything out to Mike. It wasn’t about jealousy—hell, I was over Mike and his games. But Carter... there’s something about him. Maybe it’s the intensity in his eyes or how my name sounds coming off his lips. Perhaps it’s the way he his touch made me feel special, made me forget all about Mike and the few others before him.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I whisper, shaking my head. Remembering Carter’s stiff back as he walked out sends a chill through me. I’m still twisted up over him. I wanted to go after him, but Mike stomped away in the same direction. Then, the girls started talking at once and pushing drinks in my direction as if that could fix everything.
A laugh bubbles from my throat, bitter and tinged with self-mockery. One night. One drunken, reckless night with a hockey player—a breed of man notorious for playing games off the ice just as fiercely as on it.
And I fell for two of them. Will Carter break my heart the same way Mike did? Regardless of how I feel about Carter, the thought sends a sharp pang through my chest. I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.
I jump from my chair and storm into the bathroom to check my reflection. Carter will be here soon, and I don’t want him to know I’ve been crying over him.
Flipping on the light, I get my first good look at myself. Good grief. My hair is a mess, my eyeliner has left black streaks down my cheeks, and my eyes are bloodshot. I grab a brush and tackle my hair first.
“Trust your gut,” I mutter, but my gut is as tangled as my hair. Hoping that Carter is different, that the connection I felt wasn’t just a figment of my intoxicated imagination. Fear that I’m setting myself up for another failure in the relationship department.
“Can I risk it?” I ask my reflection. It doesn’t have an answer. It never does. But deep down, where the truth often hides, I feel this pull towards him, a silent affirmation that whispers he’s not like Mike. He’d never be like Mike.
“Fuck it,” I decide and slap my palm over my mouth, wide eyes staring back at me, alarmed that I said the F word. Perhaps the situation calls for it, though. This is my real life, not some sappy romance novel where everything always works out in the end. Slamming my brush down on the counter with more force than necessary, I wince as the crack of hard plastic against ceramic tile echoes throughout the room.
I take a moment to try and fix my face but give up. Grabbing a washcloth and my cleanser, I wash it all off. A moment later, I’m clean and more presentable but still confused. With my hair in a bun, I change into something more casual as my brain and my heart flip flop back and forth—go for it, don’t go for it. I dash around my apartment and quickly tidy up, still undecided.
“I should risk it.” Because life’s too short, and my heart’s already halfway there. I head back to my kitchen and sit at the table, nibbling on my fingernails as I wait.
How long has it been? Five minutes? Thirty? It feels like an eternity since Carter said he was coming over. Maybe he changed his mind. Of course, he changed his mind. What sane man would want a woman who openly admitted using him as a rebound? The thought twists my stomach into knots.
The sound of a car door slamming outside my apartment startles me out of my internal turmoil and my pulse kicks into overdrive as I wait for him to get to my floor. Will he take the elevator, which can be slow, especially if any of my neighbors are using it? Mr. Nixon from the first floor likes to ride up and down the elevator sometimes. It eases his mind somehow. Or will he take the stairs to get here quickly? He’s in fantastic physical shape, so six flights are nothing for a guy like him.
I hear footsteps coming down the hall. They stop at my front door. Then, three heavy knocks vibrate through the wood.
“Bree, open the door,” Carter’s voice is muffled but still booms.
I practically trip over my feet to get to the door. I take a deep breath, my hand hovering over the doorknob. With a shaky exhalation, I fumble with the locks. My heart is in my throat as I yank open the door, and suck in a breath.
He’s got his arms over his head, his fingers curled into the door casing. His entire body fills my door frame.
God, he’s perfect.
I want to climb him. I want to return to that night and start all over again, this time with names and the truth.
“Do you want me to go away?” he asks, his voice soft but firm. He sounds confident, but I can see the vulnerability in his eyes.
I take a deep breath and shake my head.
“Good.”
The next thing I know, I’m in his arms, and he’s backing me into my apartment. We’re kissing like we’ve been lovers separated for months.
Craving his touch, I mumble, “Bedroom’s this way,” against his lips as my hand flails, my finger pointing in the general direction. The world fades away, and all I can focus on is the feeling of his lips crushed against mine.
His strong arms wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me close as his tongue sweeps inside my mouth. He moans. He tastes like beer and desire, and I can almost feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins just as much as through my own.
Somehow, we stumble to my bedroom without disconnecting. We even manage to remove all our clothing. Then we’re falling across my bed and rolling until I’m underneath him. I giggle softly as I turn my head to trail feather-light kisses along the length of his forearm, feeling lightheaded with excitement and relief that he’s finally here. With me.
His fingers trail down my neck, sending shivers throughout my body, and I moan as I lick the inside of his wrist. Those intense eyes of his look at me with such passion that it takes my breath away. He slides one hand up to cup my face, keeping our gazes locked as he lowers his head until the tips of our noses are a scant distance apart. “I don’t regret our night together.” His words come out low, rough like gravel, filled with desire and honesty.
“Neither do I, Carter.”
“But I heard you say?—”
I press the tip of my finger to his lips, silencing him. “I lied. It meant everything to me.”
He kisses me. It’s deep, and soulful, and says all the words he’s keeping bottled up inside. But that’s okay because I’m kissing him the same way.
Our tongues dance together as we explore each other’s mouths hungrily; this time, there are no games or pretenses between us. There’s no alcohol blurring our senses. It’s just me and Carter. Getting to know each other.
Well, this side of each other. It might be a little backward, but it is working.
Our bodies are smashed firmly against each other from head to toe. Each grind of his hips against mine creates sparks, little fireworks exploding inside my belly, my breasts, and between my legs.
Carter breaks our connection and growls into my throat, the vibration of his lips tickling my skin. “Damn it. Just a sec.” He rises and crawls off the bed. We never turned on any lights, so I can only see him by the light drifting down my hallways from the living room. I watch him pick up his pants and dig in one of his pockets. A moment later, he spins around, holding up something in his fingers. “Condom.” He covers himself and climbs back onto the bed, settling between my spread legs and wraps his arms around me.
I run my hands through his hair, relishing its softness under my fingertips before I smooth my hands down his muscular back and squeeze his ass.
“Oh god, Bree,” he moans before taking one of my nipples between his lips. He toys with it before sucking on it. Switching to the other, he does the same, pausing to blow across the tip, hardening it even more.
I arch my back, offering more of myself to him. “Harder,” I gasp.
He obliges, applying more suction, then scraping the sensitive nub with his teeth while he rolls the other between his fingers before he pinches it.
Mewling, I pull him closer, desperate to have him to mark me as his own.
He rolls to one side and slips a hand down to the junction of my thighs. His fingers brush against my folds, and I moan.
“Yes,” I pant as he dips one finger inside of me, thrusting it slowly in and out. Then he adds a second, repeating the motion before scissoring them slightly. He curls his fingers, stroking my G-spot. Heat pools between my legs, my core clenching around his digits as he continues to pump into me with a slow, torturous pace—so different from the frantic frenzy of our first night together. I arch my hips towards him, seeking more of the delicious friction.
“Carter.” A hum comes from deep in my throat.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“You,” I breathe against his ear before nipping at the lobe teasingly. “I want you.”
“I’m already yours,” he growls, his voice full of raw need. His head dips back to my breast, and his fingers move faster inside me as he licks and sucks on my nipples, pushing me closer and closer to an orgasm.
Just when I think I’m about to tip over the edge into bliss, his fingers are gone. His lips are also gone from my breasts. I open my eyes, not even sure when I closed them.
He’s sitting up, backing down the bed until he’s straddling my legs. Then he flips me over onto my stomach and yanks my hips back into the cradle of his thighs. His erection presses against my entrance, teasing me with what’s to come as his fingers trace over skin. He slides in an inch and pulls out. Then pushes in. Then pulls out. Inch by tortuous inch, he feeds his cock into my pussy until I’m squirming, begging him to shove it deep.
“Carter… please,” I whimper.
“You sure you want this?”
“Yes,” I pant, rocking back against him. “Now,” I growl in case there was any miscommunication. I grab a handful of the sheets as the head of his penis brushes against that spot again and again. Tension coils low in my core, waiting to unravel at any moment. One more thrust, just one…
His strong hands grip my hips, guiding me back and forth along the length of his cock as he rocks his hips into mine, grinding himself against my clit, grunting each time.
My nails dig into the mattress, and I drop to my chest and lift my ass higher.
Faster and faster, Carter drives into me, his breathing ragged and labored. I wish I could see his eyes. I imagine they’re wild with lust and determination, so lost in the moment that it takes my breath away just thinking about it.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room. He pushes deeper, one hand flat on my back, holding me down while he thrusts powerfully into my body, faster and harder with each stroke.
The scent of sweat and sex fills the air. Our need for each other is palpable.
“Oh, God. I’m so close.” I can feel it building, my body tightening, clenching around him.
Then I feel his hand and fingers searching, reaching around my waist, on a quest to find my clit. When he does, he strums it lightly, then with purpose, until I’m shaking, trembling in the cage of his arms.
As he pounds into me from behind, I unravel on a silent cry, my fingertips numb, my toes curling. Start exploding behind my closed eyes, my cheek smashed flat against my bedding.
Carter continues pumping vigorously, grunting loudly until he slams into me one final time. I can feel the shudder run through his body, his hips jerk, as he releases deep inside of me.
It takes a few moments for our breathing to return to normal.
Carter eases out and flops down on the mattress next to me.
There are no words, only mumbled non-sensical sounds coming from either of us.
After a couple of minutes, Carter leans in and plants his soft lips along my jawline before creating a path to my mouth. He licks along the seam of my lips, making her shiver with delight. I roll to my side and pull him tight to me so I can kiss him properly. When we part for air, our eyes remain locked on one another.
“So where do we go from here?” I ask.
His gaze drops, but only momentarily before he’s staring into my eyes again. He gently swipes my hair back from my face, and he cups my cheek. “Honestly, I don’t know. I know I want to spend all my spare time with you though. Lots of time.”
“Me too.”
“Good. Then let’s start there.”