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“Why do you care?” I breathed.
Carter brushed a thumb over my cheek. “Because I do.”
* * *
The ride to the hotel was silent until a call from Ryan came through. I didn’t want to answer it, but I knew I couldn’t ignore him, not after what happened today.
“Hey, Ryan,” I answered.
“Hey. I thought we could go out tonight. You up for it?”
Carter’s grip on his steering wheel tightened, and I knew it was because he could hear every word. As much as I wanted to deny it, I found his jealousy sexy.
Blowing out a sigh, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Ryan, but I’m not feeling very well. I’m heading out early for L.A. tomorrow.”
Ryan huffed. “So, I guess that means you’re done with me? There’s no chance of us getting back together?”
I didn’t want to hurt him, and it killed me having to turn him down. The truth of the matter was that he’d be able to find someone with the snap of his fingers. He wouldn’t be heartbroken for long over me.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I opened my eyes and looked out the sunroof of Carter’s silver Range Rover at the blue sky above. “I’m sorry, Ryan. The timing’s not good right now.”
“You’re with him, aren’t you? What makes him better than me?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the smirk on Carter’s face.
“Right now, nothing,” I replied. “I’m just not in the mood to deal with any of this. You’re a great guy, you truly are. But, honestly, I’m not ready for a relationship, simple as that.”
Ryan blew out a defeated sigh. “I understand. Call me if you change your mind.”
Relief spread through me, putting me at ease. I didn’t want this deal with Ryan to drag on. “I will,” I uttered, knowing I never would. “Be safe on your way back to New York.”
“Always.”
He hung up, and I slid my phone back into my bag, holding up a hand to cut Carter off; I knew he was about to speak. “Not a word. I don’t want to hear it,” I warned.
Carter stayed quiet the whole way to the hotel and even when we walked inside to the elevators. There were so many unspoken words between us. I wanted to tell him how I truly felt, but it wouldn’t matter. As soon as I had the okay to return to New York, I’d be gone, putting us back at square one. All of this would be pointless.
The elevator dropped us off on Carter’s floor, and I followed him to his room. He swiped the key card and opened the door, waiting for me to enter first. I walked in and went straight to the window, my body feeling as if I was going to explode with all the emotions warring inside me.
Carter’s reflection appeared in the window behind me. “What happened to us, Emma?”
“We grew up,” I whispered.
He moved closer, and I could feel the heat of his body. “That’s not it. We were close. I was your first kiss, and you were mine.”
The memories flooded back, and it hurt my heart to think about them. They were special times, times I thought he’d forgotten. We were just kids when he gave me my first kiss. It happened on one of the many vacations our families took together. This time we were in Miami, Florida, on the hotel roof. Our parents had rented out the penthouse, which included the entire rooftop, where we had a private pool and hot tub. He was twelve, and I was ten, and Braden always joked that he would be my first kiss. Carter refused to let that happen. When no one was looking, he kissed me; it was one of the sweetest moments of my life. I thought it would always be like that.
Even though our first kiss was a monumental occasion in my life, it wasn’t the memory my mind kept hold of. Another memory ranked higher on the scales. Not only was Carter my first kiss, but he was my first love in all ways.
“We changed, Carter. We’re not the same two kids who’d sneak off and steal kisses in the closets behind our parents’ back.”
Carter traced a finger over my shoulder and swept my hair to the side. “And I guess we’re not the same two people who made love for the first time in my bed.” His lips touched the back of my neck and I jerked away, my chest trembling recklessly. Carter tried to grab my arm, but I moved away too quickly. “Why do you keep running away from me?”
The throbbing of my heart pounded in my ears, and I felt as if I’d burst. “It’s because I hate you,” I shouted. “I hate what you’ve become and what you’ve done. I hate …”
Turning my back on him, I grabbed my chest, despising myself for letting him see my pain. My eyes burned like hot coals as the tears fell down my cheeks.
Carter’s voice softened, the sound of regret plaguing his words. “You don’t like that I’ve been with other women.” It was more of a statement rather than a question.
“Yes,” I confessed. “I hate the thought of you touching them the way you touched me.” Carter gently wrapped his arms around my waist. All the resentment I’d harbored in my heart left me at that moment. The fight was gone and what was left was an open wound that needed to be healed.
