Chapter 16 #4
“Not to me.” He said it so emphatically that she got the flippy feeling in her stomach again.
She would never have imagined someone like her could even carry a conversation with someone like him, let alone pour her heart out to him—and have him respond so genuinely, after a bit of encouragement.
“Nika trusted you, obviously. And she was a good judge of people.”
“She trusted you too.”
“Not enough to tell me the truth, in those last few days.”
“Maybe she was giving both of us plausible deniability.”
“I have wondered that.”
“Is there really no one you confide in?” And no, this wasn’t her double-checking he was single. Okay—yes, it was.
He thought for a few seconds, and gave that sly smile. “There is one person. She’s ex-IC, so she gets it. Some of it.”
“She?” Alice said, and mentally kicked herself. Why shouldn’t he have a relationship, even if he wasn’t after anything serious? His smile widened, as if he’d guessed her motivation for asking. Damn it.
“She and I go back a long time. We have a lot in common.” And now he was teasing her, the bastard.
It felt that just by looking straight at her, he could raise her internal temperature—and he was doing a lot of that.
It seemed almost … deliberate. Like he knew what it was doing to her.
Like he wanted to have an effect on her.
Alice pointed at the dictaphone. “You should probably get back into it.”
“You keep distracting me.” Something about the way his lips curled up on one side… “Like I say, I need a break.”
Instead of sitting at the table, he walked the few strides to the bed, sat beside her and just looked at her, his lips curled.
And once again, irrespective of whether he had a she, it was like the air around them had shifted.
Just like in some kind of fantasy, he leaned in, his intentions stomach-churningly clear.
She leaned in too, drawn into his orbit.
His lips touched hers and his fingers slid through her hair, and holy hell, Anderson Holt was kissing her.
Carter Beck was kissing her. Gentle, warm, unhurried, like he was trying to get to know her the way she’d been trying to get to know him through conversation. Not at all like Holt had kissed her, in her fantasies, but just as seductive.
When she recovered from the initial shock, she grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled Carter closer—well, his body closer, his mouth couldn’t get any closer.
He groaned, slid his arm around her back and lowered her to the bed, like she’d fantasized earlier, and she wove her fingers around his neck, and then his delicious weight was on her and he moved his lips over her jaw and down her neck, which she stretched out long to make the experience last as long as possible.
“I know this is crazy,” he murmured into her collarbone, and she could swear she felt the words roll into her pores, and sink deep inside, creating an aching, sweet desire that in turn made her skin feel hyper-alive under his touch like some spiral of need, “but…”
“I get it.”
“You know how you’re not after a relationship, and I’m not after a relationship,” he said, breathlessly, lifting away slightly, “but you have a crush on me, and I find you … incredibly distracting?” Off came his sweater, a team effort of her pushing it up and him pulling it over his head.
For a second, she glimpsed his abs—actual abs—before his T-shirt settled down again.
She would have preferred something a little less noncommittal than ‘distracting,’ but she’d take it.
“You know how we’ve got just this one night together?” she said. Off came her sweater, in much the same fashion.
“You know how we’re under all this pressure?” Off came his T-shirt.
“You know how none of this feels like it’s really happening?” And her blouse.
“You know how you’ve been pressing up against me all afternoon on the bike in that jacket and those jeans that make your ass and legs look incredible? Not to mention how you kicked literal ass in those boots earlier.” And his belt.
“You know how we were just talking about how short life is?” And her jeans—another team effort.
“You know how your big life plan after this is over is to have a one-night stand?” And his jeans.
“You heard that?” she said, pulling back.
“First rule of tradecraft: listen to all conversations.”
“I thought the first rule was to park down the street.”
“I also heard you agreeing that I’m hot. Not that I need the compliment, as previously ascertained.”
“Well, I created you. So I’ll take the credit for your hotness, thank you. You are my Frankenstein’s monster, but without the bolts. You don’t have bolts, do you?”
“Check for yourself.” He laughed, and she both heard it and felt it, because at that moment she was stroking his belly and his lips were touching hers, and the current from the connection was coursing through her entire body on its way to stoking a fire deep inside.
She had never felt this turned on in her life, but then the foreplay to this moment had started in her mind long before she’d met the guy in the flesh.
“Just this one time,” he said, “okay?”
“Just one time.”
“You’re sure you’re okay if we do this?”
“Yes, already!”
“All right, all right, just checking that we’re on the same page.”
“As long as it’s the page where we have the sex scene.”
“Oh, we’re gonna need way more than a page.”