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“Hey, Princess. I’m on my way over.”
“You know, Carter, if you insist on calling me Princess, I will continue to call you big guy.”
As much as I hate that nickname because it reminds me of bad memories from my childhood, I don’t mind it as much when it comes out of Sydney’s mouth. It’s more of a term of endearment.
“You can call me whatever you want as long as you let me kiss you.”
“Carter,” she breathes into the phone, “you know the rules. But how about a trade?”
I smile. “What do you have in mind?”
“The purpose of this game is for us to get to know each other better. So, how about you tell me something about yourself that I want to know, and you get to kiss me.”
“What do you want to know?” I roll my eyes and hold my breath for her response.
This is the reason I never get too close to women. They always want to pick my brain, figure out why I’m still single, and why they never see me with other girls. I’ve been photographed with a puck bunny here and there, but never the same girl more than once. Just like Sydney, I have my own set of rules that I am breaking by pursuing this weird ass relationship with her.
“Your tattoo. I want to know more about it.”
“I hate talking about myself.” And I do. Shit. She’s barking up the wrong tree with this question. Some secrets need to stay buried, locked away inside forever, and the meanings behind my tattoos are among them.
“You give a little, and I will give a little. It’s a compromise, Carter. Do you want to play the game or not?” She sounds annoyed, and a pissed off Sydney will probably fuck the rest of my day up.
Why do I like this woman? She’s fucking crazy. Oddly enough, her insanity is what piques my interest, leaves me wanting more. I could find another girl, a puck bunny or some willing participant to have a night of meaningless sex with, but I want Sydney. She’s the kind of crazy I need in my life, I guess.
“Fine. One question. That’s all you get.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard, big guy.” Her mood changes in an instant. “I’ll see you when you get here. I have to take a shower and get all pretty for you.”
“What’s the point? You’ll just get dirty again when I’m done with you.”
She laughs, and as she does, her deep laughter fills my car, creating an echo. “You’re hilarious. One kiss is not going to lead to the shower, darling, so you can get that out of your head right now. I get one question and answer, and you get one kiss.”
“Deal,” I say, grinning like an idiot. Who would’ve thought I would be this excited about a fucking kiss. She didn’t say what kind of kiss, so that part is still open to interpretation. “I’m in Philly now. I’ll be at your apartment soon. No time for a shower, Princess. You’ll just have to wait for me to get there.”
She snorts into the phone. “I suppose I can wait until after you leave.”
As I make a right toward her building, I shake my head. She’s such a pain in my ass. “Planning on throwing me out when I get there, I see.”
“No, of course not. I have to make some use of yo
u before I send you on your way.” She chuckles, thinking I can’t hear. But I can. I want to flip her over and spank her tight little ass for that comment. “Well, I’m hanging up. I need to look presentable by the time you get here, and what I have on will not do.”
“You would look sexy in a trash bag.” I say the words and mean them. Sydney Carroway is runway model hot. In fact, she’s even hotter than some of the models I’ve taken out for a test drive. “But I’d rather see you with nothing on.”
Just thinking about her pussy makes my dick hard. I’ve seen it from a distance. Still, it’s not the same as spreading her open with my fingers. I had to watch her do it for me. We haven’t touched once, not unless you count the few times I brushed up against her or cupped my hand on her shoulder. The wait is driving me crazy.
“You’re cute, Carter. I’ll see you when you get here.”
Then, the line goes dead. Sydney hung up on me. The music I had on before her call blasts through the speakers, snapping me out of the trance Sydney had me under. But she has me. I’m so fucking hers and ready to claim her.
Chapter 4
SYDNEY
Carter Donovan has no idea I am messing with him. I bet he thinks I’m an evil witch, toying with his dick along with his emotions. Maybe I am, or at least to some extent, but damn him for shaving his beard. I’m still pissed about that. When I walked into Tyler Kane’s house last weekend, he was dressed in gym clothes and had only a tiny bit of facial hair. I was disappointed, to say the least.
I was hoping to kick things off with his face shoved between my legs and that stubble rubbing against my skin. Over the past two days, Carter has called non-stop. He even sent flowers and gifts to my apartment. To be honest, I was shocked to receive such lavish presents from him. The Chanel sunglasses were a bit overboard, but at least I know he has good taste. And that’s an important quality in a man who I am considering dating.
