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I stayed inside her for a long time, until at last, I found the strength to pull out and flop over onto my back, panting and sweating.
She dropped down alongside me.
“Okay,” I managed to say. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
We lay side by side, panting in silence, both knowing that we’d just had the best sex of our lives.
CHAPTER 17
Phoebe
UMMM.
Yeah.
So.
That just happened.
I sat there, swimming in a sea of emotions I couldn’t even begin to process, so I just let exhaustion wash over me, deciding that I’d try to comprehend the rest later.
“Phoebe?”
“Yes?”
“I have a question.”
One of my eyebrows shot up. “I thought I was the one who always had questions.”
Carter laughed aloud. “Well, it’s time we change that.”
“All right, what’s your question?” I rolled onto my side, stretching my arm out beneath me so that I could look at Carter’s profile — his tanned skin, his aquiline nose, the light stubble.
“Why are you really on this road trip? When we met, Jo-Beth was about to explain, but you cut her off.”
“Oh God,” I muttered, burying my head in my arm. “It’s embarrassing.”
“So, you’re not delivering that old shitbag car to her cousin?”
“No, we are, it’s just…”
“You’re running drugs?” he said with a goofy smile as he traced post-sex patterns on my skin.
“Nooo,” I laughed. “A dealer would have insisted on a better form of transport.”
“Hey, we just had sex,” he joked. “You can tell me anything.”
I groaned. “Okay, fine, fine. The part I didn’t want Jo-Beth to tell you is that, umm… well, we planned this road trip based on cities with sexy names. Y’know, like Beaver Creek, Spread Eagle, French Lick…”
“And Rough and Ready,” Carter guffawed. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. I should’ve figured you were naughty.”
We both broke in giggles, laughing at the ludicrous nature of our planning. Carter’s chest rose and fell with each laugh, his glorious muscles expanding to accommodate his amusement. I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the tensing and releasing of his abs. It felt stable, secure. Like a promise.
“I don’t reckon I’ve ever done a road trip for fun,” he admitted. “I don’t think I ever got a chance to be that young.”
Though I heard the sadness and longing in his voice, I also caught the mention of my age. Young. What a silly word. Though I was twenty-one, I was mature.
Wait, was I? If I were bristling just at the mention of my age, perhaps maturity was not as close at hand as I’d thought.
Ugh, it was too much to digest. I needed a nap.
“Carter, can we just… chill here for a bit?”
“Of course.”
I scooted closer to him, laying my head on his chest, feeling his strong arm wrap around me. “Okay, thanks.”
No sooner had I uttered those words than I drifted off to sleep.
“Carter,” I said through a sleep-laden tongue. “How long did I pass out for?”
He looked down at me, his brown eyes sincere. “I let you sleep for a while.”
“Why?”
“So I could memorize your face, your body.”
I swallowed, “we should go back.”
Carter’s hand slipped from my shoulder, down to the space between my legs.
“This,” he whispered in my ear, “is just to leave you wanting more.”
He moved two fingers inside me, and I inhaled, realizing that I could fuck him for a day straight if I had food and water available.
Carter curled his fingers, filling me with need, before pulling out.
“Wait, what?”
He smirked. “I told you — had to leave you wanting more.”
I whined, “But—”
“We gotta get back to town,” he said, before slipping his two damp fingers in his mouth. “Mmm. Delicious.”
Oh my God! Do you see what I had to put up with? That was tantamount to torture.
Very, very reluctantly, I walked with him back into the cab of the truck, where we both clothed ourselves once more, which was a real shame — men like Carter should have to walk around shirtless, at the bare minimum, just sort of as a civic duty.
After we’d reluctantly put our garments back on, Carter turned on the radio, letting sweet notes of bluegrass fill the car. It was peaceful out here, in Rough and Ready or nearabouts. I could see why people did this — settled down into the life, made a home for themselves in the great unknown. There was something wild about it, but at the same time, slow. There was no pressure of acceleration culture. After all, you couldn’t check your phones for constant Facebook, Twitter, Reddit and Instagram updates. Things were quiet, and I didn’t mind it.
Or maybe that was just the effect of Carter — maybe he made me slow down, take a harder look at things, think about them more complexly. Perhaps I didn’t like the place so much as I liked the way he made any place better.
Shit. I knew I’d fallen for him physically. I’d known that right off the bat, but I thought that if I could just fuck him good, just once, maybe I’d be able to move on. Now, that seemed unlikely. He wasn’t a man you screwed and booted. He got in deeper, under your skin as well as inside it.
