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Her attention hopped between the muted tv and my gaze. A small part of me felt guilty for asking since Aiden had already filled me in, but I wanted to hear what she had to say.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything." I stroked her hair, my fingers getting caught in the unruly curls.
"Well, I don't have parents. I never really did. Not that I remember anyway. My dad was basically a no-call-no-show in my life from day one, and my mom got sick when we were young. The only memory I have of her was picking strawberries at this farm when I was really little." Her words trailed off.
"Go on." I nudged my nose against her cheek.
“I remember them tasting like sunshine and pure sugar. I guess it's why I like sweets so much." She smiled at the memory and then placed her head on my chest.
A rage of fire boiled my blood as I thought about her father. Fucking deadbeat. Leaving my princess and her brother to fend for themselves.
Her smile faded a little. "It's probably why I'm so…"
"Lovely?" I interrupted.
"Is that really what guys want, though?" she asked, looking at me.
"It's what men want," I emphasized.
She opened her mouth a little as if to say something but stopped. I tipped my chin, urging her to go on.
"Why aren't you married?"
I was willing to talk to her about anything. But I had to admit, that one threw me for a curve.
"It's just that you're rich. You're attractive, and you're not…young." She was careful about the last word.
"I was engaged once." I drew in a breath and wished I had a drink in my hand.
Her eyes focused on my expression, and I spilled the beans of my last serious relationship. Her hands covered her mouth in shock as I hashed out the fucked-up details, and once I got it all out, she placed a kiss on my lips.
"That's terrible, Carter." She swung her arms around my neck and gave me another intoxicating kiss.
Even in the seriousness of this moment, I liked the way my name sounded rolling off her tongue.
I sighed. "It's probably for the best."
"How can you say that, though?" she asked, almost defensively.
"Because I found you," I said before stealing a kiss.
A familiar but buried feeling flooded over me in hot waves. I wanted to take her to my bedroom. I wanted to fuck her. To make her mine, over and over again. But not for a baby. Not for any motive outside of my heart choosing her, and there was nothing I could do to change that.
Suddenly her phone rang, jolting us both from the kiss. "Who is it?" I asked, unable to mask my annoyance.
She stood. "It's the jail. It might be Lincoln."
I nodded, and she answered.
