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Pulling into the driveway, I kill the engine, but neither of us moves.
Resting my head on the seat, I finally speak, “I’m sorry, Lexie.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I wish that were true.
“Cody did this because of me. To get back at me.”
She shifts in her seat and faces me.
“I don’t care about the stupid video. You said yourself, no one knows it’s me.” Her hand rests on my thigh. “The problem is me, Carter. Me and the fact that I lied to you. That I kept who I was from you. That I’m your coach’s daughter.”
She’s right about everything, yet I care about none of it.
All I can see right now is his hands on her and wishing it was me. I need it to be me.
“I hated seeing you with him. His hands on you.”
“I wasn’t with him. He asked me to dance, and I turned him down.”
“I just wish it had been me.”
Seeing her with someone else hurt, a pain so substantial, I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it aside from storming in there and staking my claim when I have no claim on her. No right to even try.
“Carter…”
Before she can speak the words that we both already know, I silence her with a kiss. To hell with all of it. I need this.
I need her.
Lexie’s hands thread through my hair as she deepens the kiss. Shifting in her seat, she maneuvers to my side of the truck, straddling me.
Bad idea.
This is a very bad idea.
“Inside. Now,” I order her. No way in hell am I taking another chance. Hand in hand, I drag her up the stairs to her room. The moment the door closes behind us, we’re a frenzied mess of hands and kisses.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she says between kisses.
“Probably not, but I have no intention of stopping.”
A dark, sexy haze casts over her eyes.
“Fuck me, Carter.”
“Is that what you want, princess? For me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” she replies, her voice almost inaudible.
The ways I want to fuck her, the positions. There are so many things I want to do to that amazing body of hers. I ease off the sling as I watch her strip. If I could, I would tear the damn clothes right off her. Piece by piece, she removes the layers of clothing, sliding her shirt over her head and her denim jeans down her silky thighs. Standing before me, wearing nothing but a hot-pink bra and panties, she looks fucking heaven sent.
“God, I’ve missed you.”
She reaches behind her back to unclasp the bra, her breasts thrusting toward me as the material falls to the floor. Her fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and pulls them down until they’re around her ankles.
I sink to my knees, desperately needing to commit to memory every taste, every feel of her. With her knees backed up against the bed, I run my tongue through her slit.
