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“How else will I be able to make sure you don’t go playing with that sweet pussy of yours during the night?” He cocks an eyebrow.
I shake my head, looking away from his face because he’s too handsome to look at when I’m this irritated. My eyes land at his groin where his hard cock presses against his boxers.
“You don’t have to.” It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
He chuckles and continues to climb next to me, turning on his side to stare at me.
“You ever sleep with a man before, Seraphina? Did any of those boys in college spend the night, or did you kick them out so they wouldn’t get close to you?” he asks, after I’m lying on the pillows with the comforter pulled up to my chin.
I turn toward him.
“You think you know me so well?”
He rolls to his side and flicks the light switch, darkening the room. “I think you have your guard up for a reason. So? Any of them spend the night?”
I close my eyes and flip over to my other side, giving him my back.
“No,” I answer into the darkness.
His arm wraps around my middle, pulling me to him. His cock nestles between my bare ass cheeks. I clench from the rawness of my flesh against his boxers.
He grunts.
“None of that now. You’re still on punishment.” He kisses the back of my head. “Sleep, sweetheart.”
I close my eyes.
He’s holding me closer than anyone ever has before.
How can I sleep like this?
CHAPTER 9
Seraphina
Carter is sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace with a guitar on his knee when I come downstairs in the morning after a long, hot shower.
“The others are still out in the gym,” Carter says when he looks up at me. “Are you hungry? I can fix you something.” He puts the guitar down beside him.
I shake my head. “No. I can make something. You think they’ll be ready for breakfast soon?”
“Probably another twenty minutes.” He checks the clock on the wall. Nothing in this house has warmth. It all gives off a warehouse feel.
Carter moves to his feet. He’s wearing a pair of old jeans with stressed holes in the knees, but it’s not a fashion thing for him. He’s just worked his ass off and they’re proof of it. His gray tank is fitted, giving me a solid look at his muscular chest and abs.
“Eggs are good,” he says, catching me staring at him. I flick my gaze to his face and find him grinning.
My face heats. “Eggs. Got it.” I turn on my heel and march to the kitchen. I can do scrambled eggs. “Anything big planned for today?” I look up from the bowl of eggs I’m whisking to wait for his answer.
“Nothing.” He watches me. “Oliver and I are home today with you.”
“Your turn to babysit?” My shoulders drop. A burden now and forever.
“Who’s babysitting?” Oliver appears and heads straight for the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. He’s wearing a polo shirt with their company logo and a pair of jeans that hang from his hips.
I pour the eggs into the pan heating on the stove and switch out the whisk for a spatula.
“No one’s babysitting.” Carter leans against the kitchen island. “Just telling her that we’re home today.”
