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“No,” I snap before making a hasty exit out of the bathroom, panting like a fucking bitch.
Fuck. I need him.
My back falls against the closed bathroom door, and I’m left so fucking worked up, that just the thought of Carter on the other side getting off has my hand slipping into the waistband of my pants, which at seven months pregnant isn’t as easy as it sounds.
My greedy fingers roll over my clit, and I suck in a breath, visualizing the way Carter stroked his cock, and his subtle grunts and groans from within the bathroom go a long fucking way in getting me off.
I’m so fucking needy that it takes no time at all, and as I hear Carter coming on the other side of the door, I come right along with him. My orgasm explodes through my body with a fierce desperation, and I’m barely able to keep on my feet.
I groan low, gasping for breath, but as I hear the shower cut off, I tear my hand out of my pants and race across the room, dropping onto the edge of our . . . his bed and prepare myself for the onslaught of bullshit that’s about to come flying out of my mouth.
The bathroom door opens, and a cloud of steam rushes out before him, and I roll my eyes. The fucker never could remember to use the bathroom fan. Carter comes strutting out with a towel wrapped around his hips, looking like a god with the little beads of water covering his chest.
Shit, am I drooling?
He takes one look at me, and I know exactly what he’s seeing—my flushed cheeks, the satisfaction in my eyes, and the way my chest rises and falls with rapid movement, looking like a woman who’s just been thoroughly fucked.
A smirk pulls across his lips, knowing exactly what just went down in here, but thankfully he doesn’t say a word. “Is something wrong, babe?” he questions, walking past me and into the open closet like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Are you shitting me?” I demand, flying to my feet in outrage. “You had no right to do that.”
“Babe,” he says, turning around, dropping the towel and pulling on a pair of jeans, bypassing the underwear and making me hungry for him all over again.
“Don’t babe me,” I seethe as the stupid hormones bring tears to my furious eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Carter pulls on a shirt and strides toward me. “You wanna know what I was thinking?” he murmurs, reaching up and wiping my tears away with his thumbs before placing a gentle hand on our kicking babies. “I was thinking that I love you and these babies, and I want you guys here with me. I know it was stupid, and I should have talked to you first, but the opportunity kind of presented itself, so I took it.”
“You’re an idiot,” I tell him. “Did you consider that I might not want to live here with you?”
“I did,” he says, that same stupid smirk pulling at his lips again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But then I remembered that I’m a fucking legend and you’d be crazy not to want that.”
I hold back a smile, wanting so desperately to hate him, but fuck, he makes it so hard. “Call me crazy then because I don’t want to live with you.”
He leans into me, watching the way I respond to his touch, reading me so fucking well. “You’re a liar, Brianna,” he accuses, his eyes dancing with excitement.
“So, what if I am?” I breathe, desperate for him to close the gap and give me what I need, but damn it, what I need and what I want are two very different things right now.
Carter grins before reaching up and smoothing his fingers over the little crease between my brows—the one that only shows up when I’m angry, and usually, Carter Waters is the only one who could possibly make me angry enough for it to come out. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs. “I love you so goddamn much.”
“Don’t,” I demand, pushing his hand away. “You don’t get to do that, especially now. I’m so mad at you.”
“I know you are, but if you give it a chance, you’ll see how fucking perfect this is.”
I shake my head, not wanting to believe him, but damn it, what could possibly be better than having our family living together in Carter’s home? The very home I always imagined we’d be in. Needing a moment to calm down, I turn away and storm into the closet before grabbing a handful of clothes and heading for the door.
“Are you going to stay?” he questions, a hint of fear in his deep tone.
I turn around and fix him with a heavy glare. “Only because moving everything out is going to be too exhausting.”
