Page 85 of Melt His Heart

Carson is already in his bedroom waiting after I’ve finished. The room lined with the same huge windows as the living room, a king-size bed sitting in the middle.

It’s a perfect mix of both Carson’s lax but flashy nature. He walks over to the bed, and we get into a comfortable spooning position. My favorite, but this time I’m facing him, his eyes are closed, and his body feels lax against me. I’m filled with a sense of pride knowing it’s because of me he looks so at peace right now.

“What do your tattoos mean?” I breathe into his neck.

“I got them there because I can make you see stars.” He chuckles.

“Carson, are you fucking serious?” I scoff, pulling away from his body.

“I’m kidding, I mean, I’m not. But that’s what I used to say when I got them in uni.” He laughs.

“You were so crude.”

“Crude.” He says, mimicking my accent, “Oh, shut up!” I slap at his chest.

“Ok, I guess I was a little bit. But hey, I was young! Now I say, I don’t know, man, I just really like stars.” We both laugh until our stomachs hurt. I can’t believe how silly he can be.

“Why? You like them?” He smirks.

“They’re ok.” I smile, rolling my eyes.

They’re sexy.

“You love playing hard to get, don’t you?” He says, his gaze half-lidded.

“Who says I’m playing?” I smirk, and he kisses it right off of me.

* * *

My phone alarm goes off next to me somewhere on Carson’s bed.

Carson’s bed.

I almost forgot I slept over, especially since the other side of the bed is empty. I can smell food wafting into the room; he must have woken up before me and gotten his day started already. I stretch a little before padding into the hallway and into the kitchen. Carson is at the stove cooking what looks like eggs, shirtless, his sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and wearing glasses?

I swallow and bite my lip.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” He says, turning to me.

“You wear glasses?” I walk over to the counter, picking Jules up before taking a seat.

“I do. But can’t wear them on the ice, ya know.”

“Well, obviously.” I chuckle.

“How do I look?” He says, turning around to give me a good view, the morning sun kissing his skin the way I want to right now. It’s definitely a very, very good view. I’ve never been so attracted to someone the way I am to this man.

I want to do a repeat of last night, but this time it’s the kitchen tiles beneath my knees. Which will probably fucking hurt, but I’m thinking it’ll be worth it.

“Terrible,” I say, messing with the hem of his shirt he gave me to wear last night. It’s huge on me, and I absolutely secretly plan on putting it in my bag to take home. It smells just like him.

“Then why are you so red?” He smirks, his eyes going dark.

“I’m not. It’s just hot in here, and you’re a terrible host.” I bite back, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, really?” He turns back to the stove and starts plating the food. He places the dish in front of me, “This might’ve won you a few points though.” I hum.

“Oh, thank god, I thought you might not wanna come back.”