Chapter 13
Thirteen
River
“I can’t believe you don’t like Twister!” I say around a mouthful of popcorn, covering my mouth with my hand.
Carter points a finger at the TV. “I’m just saying, it’s all bullshit. There’s no way they would’ve survived that tornado. Especially in the middle of a field, strapped to a pole.”
I turn my head up for a brief second to look at him in mock disgust, then I focus back on the TV.
“Okay, first of all: most movies are bullshit. Second: it was a water pipe, not a pole, and it was buried at least thirty feet into the ground. Well, that’s what Billy said anyway, or was it Jo?
I can’t remember. . .” I wave off the thought.
“Doesn’t matter . . . either way, leather straps are durable. Those babies aren’t going anywhere.”
“Kitten, her leather strap broke!” He laughs as we watch Jo yell for Toby. “There’s no way you could take a direct hit from an F5 tornado and live to tell the tale. The debris alone would kill you. It’s not possible.”
“I mean it’s possible. Not probable, but possible. Plus, miracles do happen.” I shrug one shoulder.
Like the fact that I feel more comfortable here with him than I’ve ever felt with anyone in my life, or that I’m cuddled up against him with his arm wrapped around me.
We’ve become closer over the past few weeks. The night he literally walked through glass for me, something between us shifted. He held me after dinner and turned on a movie, and since then, that’s how we’ve spent a lot of our evenings.
His fingers trace patterns on my bare arm. It feels good, like beside him is exactly where I’m meant to be.
“Have you seen one before?” he asks.
I tilt my head back, looking into his icy blue eyes. Damn, he’s gorgeous. There are only a couple of inches between our lips; all I’d need to do is shift just a bit to close the distance between us.
What did he say?
“Huh?”
My eyes flit back up to his. He raises a brow, and his left dimple pops as the side of his mouth lifts into a smirk.
Screw it.
I press my lips against his, but he’s so much taller than me I can barely reach him.
Shifting, I move from my place on the couch and straddle his lap.
His eyes heat and tangle with mine. The playfulness in his expression disappears as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down on a thick swallow.
I’ve never thought an Adam’s apple was hot, nor have I ever wanted to lick one until this very moment.
Grinding down on him, I lean in and do exactly that.
His length begins to swell and press against me through our clothes as I trail my lips all the way up to his ear lobe, kissing and sucking along the way.
“What are you doing, baby?”
“I want you,” I whisper.
Other than his dick giving a quick twitch in his pants, he doesn’t make a move.
I tease his lips with mine, trying to coax his tongue to come out and play, but he doesn’t give in.
He grips my hips, pressing me further down onto him.
I don’t know if it’s to encourage more friction or prevent me from moving.
I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, then give it a nip with my teeth.
He growls, and before I know what’s happening, he flips us over and takes control.
Threading our fingers together, he pins my right hand above my head.
It’s restraining, but it’s erotic, and instead of freaking out, I release a moan into his mouth.
As he grinds into me, his tongue lightly caresses mine.
Fuck, I’m dripping wet for him. There are too many clothes between us.
His hard length presses against my clit, relieving some of the ache; it’s only for a split second, then he’s pulling back again.
I need more. God, I need more. He rolls his hips again and again .
. . teasing me . . . It’s a little taste to show me exactly how good he would fuck me.
My fingers weave through his hair, and I pull his head back to look at me.
“Please,” I whimper.
His lips trace the column of my neck. “Admit you’re mine, River,” he growls in my ear. “Admit it, and I’ll give you the whole goddamn world if you want it.”
He drapes my leg over his arm and grinds his cock against my clit again and again, bringing me to the precipice, then just before I’m thrown over the edge, he stops and pulls back. I lock my other leg around his hips, trying to bring him back to me, but he doesn’t budge.
“Say it. Say it and fucking mean it.”
Lying there, I stare into his eyes, thinking about what he’s telling, no, begging me to do, and I just .
. . can’t. Not yet. He must see the answer in my expression because the air around us changes as he moves off me and adjusts his pants.
Then he grabs my hand and helps me sit up before sitting back down where he was.
“Let’s finish the movie, yeah?”
I should try to save myself from the embarrassment and go to bed, but we just started the movie, and that would make things even more awkward than they already are.
Instead, I nod my head. Without saying another word, he pulls me back to his side exactly as we were, with my head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me, then he rewinds the movie back to where we left off.
Carter chuckles under his breath.
“What?” I ask.
He presses pause and says, “I was asking you a question before you—”
“Ask away.” I cut him off before he can make this anymore awkward for me.
Carter shifts us again, this time lying back on the couch, and pulling me onto his chest. “I asked if you’ve ever seen a tornado.”
I look up at him. “Yeah, there was this one time during senior year of high school, Aspen and I had gone to this lookout. It’s breathtaking up there.
You should see it sometime. Anyway, we’d been there probably thirty minutes when Mom called, freaking out about a tornado that was heading straight for us.
We turned around to go back to Aspen’s car.
She’d parked about a quarter mile down the road at the bottom of the hill.
When we made it to the clearing, there it was, heading straight for us.
We ran so fast down that hill that we were tripping over our own feet.
On the way down, Aspen fell and literally peed her pants.
Hell, I might have peed mine a little too. ”
Carter gently pulls my hair tie out of my hair, unhooking a tangle before combing his fingers through the mess. “I bet that was scary,” he says, pausing in thought. “I have another question. It’s a pretty serious one though.”
“What is it?”
His brows pull together into a frown. “Did you see any flying cows?”
“Ass.” I laugh, grabbing the decorative pillow beside my legs, and swatting him with it.
“What? It’s a valid question.”
I roll my eyes and giggle. There he goes again; redirecting, making me feel safe in my feelings, and at the same time, lightening up a situation that made me uncomfortable.
We don’t turn the movie back on. Instead, we talk the entire night while Carter continues to run his fingers through my hair. I begin to relax, and soon I feel myself drifting off, using him as a pillow.
He’s driving me absolutely insane. And not in the sense that he used to when he was overly flirty with witty comebacks and chasing me all over the damn place. No, it’s so much worse than that.
Every day for the past forty-three days—yes, I’m counting—Carter’s done something either incredibly sweet or something insanely sexy to turn me on.
Like, a couple of weeks ago, when he walked through our penthouse in nothing but a towel.
His sandy blond hair was still wet from the shower, and rivulets of water dripped down his tattooed body.
At first, I thought, you know . . . he’s used to being single and living on his own.
But when that bastard looked back over his shoulder and caught me checking him out, he smirked, and I knew right then he did it intentionally.
This morning, when I came downstairs before work, Carter was standing in the kitchen.
Shirtless. Not only was he shirtless, but his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips while he stood there making a cup of coffee.
He lifted the cup to his mouth, his perfectly tattooed biceps bulging, and tasted it.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough to make me combust, when he turned to face me, I could tell he wasn’t wearing underwear.
Okay, so I knew he was packing, but I didn't realize to that extent. Good God.
“Perfect.” He winked.
Honestly, I don’t think he was even talking about the coffee.
I’m certain it was the fact that, once again, he busted me salivating over my husband.
He put a lid on the cup, placed it in my hands, and told me to have a good day at work.
Then . . . then . . . he kissed me on the forehead, like he’s done every single day.
To say I was frazzled was an understatement.
I’ve been dealing with this shit for six freaking weeks, and I’m going out of my mind.
Oh. Oh. And that doesn’t even include the texts he sends to me throughout the day.
At first, I thought it was a one off. He told me to have a good day, no big deal. But then I received another in the middle of the day, telling me that he was thinking about me.
Now, here I sit at my desk, not able to concentrate on a damn thing, because all I can seem to think about is him. I don’t know what kind of shenanigans he’s trying to pull, but I pretty much begged him to fuck me, and he turned me down . . .
Well, I’ve had it. Two can play that game, and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him pay . . . after I handle my sister who is standing at my office door with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised nearly to her hairline.
“Been where you’re at. Your mind looks busy, but from the work piling up on your desk, it looks like that’s the only thing working today. Come on. Let’s go to lunch, and you can tell me about it.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I grab my purse and follow Aspen out the door.
The guys have home games this week. Players fill up the facility with morning skate and workouts, so I know Carter is around here somewhere.
The last thing I need right now is to run into him when my head is discombobulated.
Our heels click in unison and echo as we walk through the reception area to make our way outside.
“So whatcha in the mood for?” Aspen asks.
God, I can’t even think about food. My stomach is all tied up in knots. I know where this conversation is gonna go eventually—to how it’s going with Carter—and I’m dreading the fact that I’ll be forced to lie to her face again, like I've been doing the past month and a half.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I blurt as we slide into her car.
Aspen whips her head toward me, eyes wide.
I tell her everything. From the time we all split up on Fremont Street, all the way to now, and why I chose not to annul the marriage.
I leave Teagan out of it because, well, that woman has had all our backs from the moment we moved from Oklahoma.
I know she had Aspen’s best interest at heart, and I don’t want Aspen mad at her.
She’s silent for a beat before she reaches over and pulls me into a hug.
“I love you,” she says, then releases me, resting back against her seat.
“You deserve to be happy. Don’t worry about my reputation; it’s not like it’s some huge scandal.
Besides, who cares what people say about me?
I really don’t give a shit because I know who I am.
I don’t need anyone’s approval, and neither do you.
Fuck. I hate that you felt the need to protect me. ”
She says that, but I know Aspen, and I remember what happened when the media got ahold of her last time. It wasn't pretty, and I don’t want to be the one to put her through that. I also don’t want her to feel guilty. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut but . . . I just hate lying to her.
“Seriously, Aspen, things between Carter and I are changing, and I want to try. I promised him I would try.”
She releases a drawn-out sigh and starts the car. “If you’re doing this, do it for yourself, not for me and certainly not for him. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nod.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” she pauses as her phone rings. Both of us frown in confusion as we look to see who’s calling, and my picture is displayed on the screen.
“What is going on with your phone?”
“I don’t know.” I reach into my purse, pull out my phone, and end the call. “Hmmm. That’s weird.”
“That is weird. Anyway, what are you going to do in retaliation to the little games he’s playing?” she asks as we pull out of the parking lot.
“Oh, girl. I have something up my sleeve, and he will never see it coming.”