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This is fucking perfect, but it’d be so much better if I wasn’t so mad at Carter.
As I take in the room, I can picture it all. I’d come in with my little boys. Have one playing on the mat with his daddy while I get the other dressed and ready for the day. I can’t fucking wait. This is everything I wanted and more.
But I’m not going to let him know that. At least, not yet.
The past couple of months have been incredible as we’ve been reconnecting. I can tell he’s trying so hard, and I truly believe he wants this, I’m just not entirely convinced that he’s ready. He’s going to make the perfect daddy. My boys are so lucky to have him, especially now that I realize he’s the kind to spoil them rotten. But this . . . this has me questioning just how ready he is, but what man ever is?
Knowing if I linger too long, I’ll get too emotional, I quickly dry my eyes. Before I can thank him for this wonderful nursery he’s created for our children, I need to deal with the fact that he had the audacity to move me out of my own home without even the hint of a conversation for my consent.
Grabbing another tissue just to be on the safe side, I go to close the door when I think better of it. The room is too beautiful to have the door closed, it needs to be seen. Then just because I can’t help myself, I take a quick photo and send it as a text to Cassie, because who wouldn’t want to see such beauty?
Backing away from the nursery, I take the few steps to Carter’s bedroom and push my way in. A lifetime ago, this used to be the bedroom we shared and the memories that come crashing back almost have me gasping for air.
Pushing it all aside, I walk into the room, and the first thing I hear is the sound of the shower running in the private bathroom. No wonder he didn’t answer when I called out.
I head straight for the bathroom door when I think better of it and detour to his closet, my stomach sinking. Pushing open the double doors, I peer inside and grit my teeth, finding all my clothes right where they used to live this time last year. My dresses, pants, shirts, and even my fucking underwear is in here.
That rat bastard.
Unable to stand another minute without confronting him, I storm right into the bathroom, practically kicking down the door as I go.
“You big fucking bastard. Where the hell do you get off moving all my shit into your place?” I demand, my gaze feasting upon the very naked man with water running down his perfectly sculpted body, who just happens to have his very large and very hard cock right in the palm of his hand.
Carter looks at me with hooded eyes, and I do my best to ignore it and pretend like the sight of his glistening body doesn’t affect me. But fuck, he’s amazing. I’d do anything to strip off and get in that shower with him. To have him bend me over as I desperately try to clutch onto the slippery tiles, all while he vigorously fucks me within an inch of my life.
In, out, in out.
Oh God, I need him so bad. I want to be his needy whore again. The way I’d scream his name until the neighbors called the police.
Carter doesn’t dare stop, only inches toward the shower door, more than welcoming me in, watching the way my thighs clench and seeing the overwhelming desire in my eyes. I’m fucking starving for him and he knows it.
Dragging my bottom lip between my teeth, I watch his hand slowly move up and down his impressively thick cock, and my knees begin to weaken. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs with those sexy, hooded eyes focused so heavily on me. “Let me give you what you need.”
My feet involuntarily begin to creep toward him when I realize what the fuck I’m doing. This man just moved me into his home without my consent. I need to be bitching at him, not about ready to drop onto my knees and take that delicious cock into my mouth.
Fuck.
“No,” I demand, forcing myself to stop in the middle of the bathroom, the idea of not running right into that shower with him causing me physical pain. I shake my head, blinking as I try to find just a semblance of control. I hold my finger up and point out the door. “Get the fuck out.”
Carter chuckles at me, and I swear, I nearly come in my pants. “Can I finish first?” he asks as he continues teasing me, his hand grazing up and down, squeezing at his tip. Shit, I need to get out of here and finish myself off in private.
