19. Chapter Nineteen - Twisted Yearning
Iopened the door to find Carter leaning casually against the porch pillar, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans like he already knew he looked good standing there.
“Wassup?” he grinned, white teeth flashing beneath the porch light, his accent laced with the sort of slow confidence some girls probably swooned over instantly.
Years ago, I probably would’ve too. Now I noticed different things first: the subtle lift of his brow, the glint in his eyes, and the way his gaze drifted over my body without even pretending to hide it.
I didn’t shy away from it. If anything, I let him look.
“Hey,” I replied simply, shutting the door behind me and locking it with a satisfying click.
His eyes skimmed over me again, slower this time, taking his time deciding exactly what he wanted.
He could look, for now. What happened afterward depended entirely on how the night went and whether he turned out to be the sort of guy I actually wanted around.
Attraction wasn’t trust, and desire didn’t mean I owed anyone more than the moment itself.
My attention shifted toward the dull gray Ford hatchback waiting by the curb.
Not exactly what I expected from him.
He carried himself like the type of guy who’d show up in something flashy and obnoxious, but instead, the plain little car sat there looking like it belonged to somebody’s mom.
I kept that thought to myself while taking a lazy pull from my vape, the nicotine settling through my system and smoothing out some of the nervous static in my veins before I slid into the passenger seat.
As the engine hummed to life, Carter tossed his first question out casually.
“What’s it like in America, then?”
I tilted my head, watching streetlights cut warm slices across his jaw while we pulled away from the curb.
“That’s a loaded question,” I murmured. “It’s big. It’s beautiful if you know where to look. Depends what someone’s looking for.”
He shot me a sideways glance, quick and assessing. “What is it ya’d look for, eh?”
“I liked the scenic stuff,” I admitted, letting old memories loosen slightly in my chest. “Hiking, biking, random road trips. My pa used to take me on detours that weren’t even on maps.
We’d end up in weird little places that felt like the edge of the world.
” My voice softened. “I guess I liked the quiet of it.”
“That sounds proper good,” he said politely enough, though I noticed his interest fading almost instantly. “Not really my scene, though. I’m more a party-an’-drinks kinda bloke.”
I smirked, brushing imaginary lint from my skirt.
“So I’ll see you chugging beer and dancing like an idiot tonight?”
“Absolutely,” he laughed. “Only if ya make it worth my while first, innit?”
His tone dipped lower, challenge obvious beneath it.
At least he wasn’t pretending to be subtle.
Also, he respected traffic laws; his seatbelt clicked neatly into place while his hands stayed steady at ten and two on the wheel.
Nothing like the reckless adrenaline rush of someone permanently fused to a motorcycle.
I leaned back in the seat, crossing my legs slowly.
“Oh? And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”
“I can think of a few ways,” he hummed, lips curling with implication. I didn’t need to see inside his head to know exactly where those thoughts were going. I’d seen that script before. Honestly, I used to write it better than most boys.
“Then I guess we’re both here to entertain,” I murmured, fingers trailing across the denim of his thigh just long enough to make my point.
He stiffened briefly before relaxing into it.
A small flicker of satisfaction warmed my chest. Not romance but familiarity.
The kind built from locker room whispers, dance studio hookups, hallway rumors, and stolen moments in hidden corners where things heated up fast and burned out even faster.
I didn’t need promises hanging over my head right now.
I needed distraction.
By the time we reached the party, the bass rattled the windows hard enough to shake the car.
The music hit us before the front door even opened.
The entire house pulsed with noise, vibrating through the floorboards and into my ribs.
Stale beer and cheap cologne clung to the humid air while sweat and heat tangled through bodies packed too tightly together beneath flickering lights.
Carter carved through the crowd instead of simply walking through it. Without breaking stride, he snatched a red cup from some random guy mid-sentence and handed it to me with exaggerated formality.
“For ya, madam,” he announced, dripping sarcasm and absolutely no sincerity.
“Wow,” I deadpanned, taking it. “Such a gentleman.”
I raised the cup slightly. “Cheers.”
Then I threw the drink back in one swallow. It burned like cheap sanitizer and tasted vaguely like frat-house floor cleaner: bitter, warm, and strong enough to dull the awkward static still buzzing beneath my skin.
Carter blinked, surprise flashing across his face before amusement settled in.
“Right,” he laughed. “I clock ya, American girl.”
“What, were you expecting me to be conservative?” I asked, tilting my head.
He scratched his cheek, eyes flicking around the room before settling back on me.
“Not sure what I was expectin’, t’ be honest. Maybe a bit bashful, eh?”
A quiet laugh escaped me. “We’re all different, Carter, but I’m not shy about things I want.”
Another drink magically appeared in my hand from somewhere in the crowd. I downed that one too.
“Keep ’em coming,” I added. “Though fair warning, I’ll probably be drunk before you know it.”
His grin widened beneath the strobe lights. “A drunk Ira’s a proper Ira.”
The night unraveled fast after that.
Drink after drink blurred the edges of everything until sound and color melted together into one hazy rush.
Eventually, we ended up pressed together near the corner of the room, bodies moving against the heavy pulse of the music.
His hands gripped my waist, guiding me back against him with shameless intent while the hard outline of his cock pressed through denim into my lower back.
I let my head fall against his shoulder, a soft sigh slipping free as his mouth found the curve of my neck.
He wasn’t gentle about it either. His lips moved wet and hungry against my skin with the sort of urgency that didn’t bother asking permission first. His hands slid beneath my top, boldly cupping my breasts while his thumbs brushed over my nipples until they hardened beneath his touch.
The sensation sent heat spiraling low through my stomach. I moaned softly, fingers tangling into his hair as I tilted my face toward his.
“Wanna take this somewhere else?” I whispered, words slurring slightly beneath the mix of alcohol, boldness, and the sharp thrill of being wanted so openly.
Instead of answering right away, he pressed closer, grinding into me while his breath heated the side of my neck.
Music blurred beneath the crush of bodies and bass shaking the walls.
My pulse kept pace with it: messy, quick, reckless from liquor and adrenaline.
For one suspended moment, it genuinely felt like he might drag me into the nearest bathroom or empty bedroom and fuck me against the wall without hesitation, my body already reacting to the possibility of quick, dirty release strong enough to wipe my thoughts clean for a little while.
Then everything shifted.
A group of girls swept into the room, glittering and loud enough to slice straight through the haze Carter and I had built around ourselves.
Their laughter cut through the music while I felt Carter tense behind me before I fully understood why.
His hands stilled against my body, and his gaze flicked sideways, quick and guilty, as if someone had just caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
I didn’t need an introduction to know exactly who they were.
Girls like that didn’t simply enter rooms. They arrived like they already owned the place.
The one leading the group was tall with smooth, straight hair and eyes already narrowed in my direction, marking her as the obvious center of attention without needing to speak first. Whether she’d earned that position or simply claimed it didn’t matter.
The way the others moved around her made it obvious they were a unit, sharp-edged and loyal in the vicious sort of way girls sometimes became together.
Their eyes found Carter. They weren’t surprised or curious. Just… knowing.
The sort of familiarity that smelled like sex and unfinished business, the heavy mix of past nights and tangled sheets lingering in the air between them.
I shifted my weight back into him, grinding my ass into the hard length pressed against me, letting the friction spark heat low between my thighs. If they wanted to stare, then fine. Let them watch. I knew exactly the kind of show that lingered in people’s heads long after the music stopped.
Still, even while I leaned into him and played along with the moment, I already understood what Carter really was.
Not some complicated mystery wrapped in secrets and intensity.
Just a common kind of temptation. Easy to read.
Easy to touch. Easy to lose myself in for a few hours without pretending it meant more than that.
And maybe that was the point.
I wasn’t looking for promises or feelings deep enough to hurt me later. I just wanted something loud enough to drown out Culver lingering in the back of my mind. Every touch from Carter felt rebellious, a temporary distraction.
“Cart, I thought you were spending time with me tonight.”
Her voice sliced cleanly through the music, sweet enough to rot teeth.
She sauntered forward like every movement had been rehearsed beforehand, hips swaying with polished confidence.
Dark glossy hair spilled down her back while the look in her eyes screamed she’d absolutely ridden him somewhere in this house before.