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“Stop calling me Princess,” I spit back, pretending to be annoyed with him. I could care less. My father had called me that since I was born.
He shrugs, moving me along with his shoulders. “If the shoes fits.”
“Touché, Carter.” I roll my eyes and think of what to say to him next.
He shut me down over his tattoos. What the fuck could be so important about them that he turned into a jerk?
“What does this one mean?” I point at the words Lux in tenebris on his wrist, which I already know is Latin, but I have no idea what it says. Foreign languages were not one of my strong suits in high school. I was too busy hooking up with my English teacher to pay attention.
“Light in the darkness,” he says, failing to follow it up with anything specific. He has what appear to be tribal markings and various symbols and words on his arms.
Funny how fast he changes from hot to cold over something so silly. Obviously, the meaning behind his tats is not. There’s more to the man than what meets the eye. And I plan to find out what Carter is hiding.
“Give me something,” I murmur against his ear, rubbing his thigh.
Yes, I scream on the inside when I feel his massive cock semi-hard against his leg. I was afraid he was one of those tall guys with a small dick. That’s the worst when you’re busy sizing up their shoes and hands, only to find out there is not much happening between the legs. Total lady boner killer. But not Carter, he’s like a walking hard-on, the cure for all female orgasms.
“How about a tour of the house?” He deadpans, stroking the side of my breast with his big hand. I let him. Why not? It feels good.
I sit back just enough to give him the evil eye. “Are you trying to get me into bed just so you can ignore my question?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. How about you come with me and find out.”
He leans forward and grips my sides, lifting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he gets up from the couch. I have no time to protest because I’m already clinging to him for dear life, afraid he’ll drop me on my ass. With his attitude, he might do just that.
As he slides me down his chest, I wrap my arms around his neck to hold on. What is with these guys and manhandling their women? All I know is I’m not complaining. The heat burning between our bodies sends a brush of fire up my arms. My nipples harden being this close to Carter. I hate that he has an instant effect on me that goes straight to my pussy.
“Do you think you can put me down, big guy?” I say in a playful tone, knowing it will piss him off even more. He’s big, and he’s a guy, so I fail to see the issue with the nickname. And I plan to make him my big guy if he plays his cards right. “You’re squeezing me to death, and my tits are too big to be mashed together like this. Let go of me before they are of no use to you.”
He laughs and walks out of the living room and into the long, marble hallway, headed toward the stairs. “It’s not like they’re going to pop. They look pretty real to me. Don’t worry, Princess. I can rub them once I figure out where to take you.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” I plant a kiss on his cheek, smearing my lip gloss on his face. He looks sexy-as-fuck with the outline of my lips on his skin. I kissed him. Now, he’s mine.
We reach the second floor landing in record time, my insides fueled by adrenaline and the excitement of the unknown. I want Carter to ravage me, make me his tonight. But I have rules. While he may think he’s getting lucky right now, that is far from true. I talk a good game but rarely back it up on the first date.
Now, if I were drunk, that would be a whole other story. Carter could have me anyway he wants, and I would not stop him. That’s also why I no longer drink on dates. I can be such a skank when I get tipsy, leading to plenty of mornings full of upset and awkwardness. Kennedy thinks every man says yes to me and falls at my feet. Plenty of them do, not that I am bragging, but most men have that stupid rule about not calling if you sleep with them the first night.
Since I like Carter already, I sure as hell do not want to spoil this with a meaningless night of sex. I can tell there is more to his story. And I want to be the one to figure out what makes Carter tick.
When we reach the last door at the end of the hall, Carter sets me
down, placing his hands on my shoulders. He stares into my eyes, the connection between us so strong my breath hitches.
Carter leans down to kiss me, and as he does, I turn my head to the side, causing him to plant a peck on my cheek.
“Really?” He sounds confused, as he should be. “You’re not going to let me kiss you?”
He is one sexy hunk of man. I could let him take me right here in this hallway and have the best night of my life, or I can wait him out, make him beg me for more. Option B is the one I’m going with tonight. Because unlike most of the guys I meet, I want to see Carter again.
“Not tonight. But I’d still like the tour of the house if you want to show it to me.”
Scrunching his nose, he looks away from me and down the hall. “Um…”
Carter has me so off my game. I guess I also have him off his. Not what he was expecting. Always keep men on their toes. And bring them to their knees.
“What do you want to see? It’s just a bunch of rooms.”
“As you know, I am a romance author. Why don’t you take me into each room and tell me a story.”
