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He chuckles. “Not today, no.” Carter throws back the covers and I gasp when I see he’s not wearing a shred of clothing. His dick is thick and hard and ready to go. I swallow audibly and force my eyes to meet his.
I quickly stand. “Well, I’ll uh, let you get dressed.”
He gets out of bed and grabs my hand, turning me around to face him. His cock is centimeters from touching my stomach through this oversized T-shirt and I force myself to concentrate on the thick, black five o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw and chin.
“Taryn, you don’t need to run off. Let’s go do something today. Do you like mini golf?”
Do I want to spend the day with him? Hell yes. Should I? Absolutely not.
“I know that look,” he says, staring at me with those dark-blue eyes that look like the ocean in the sunlight filtering in from the window. “Say yes. No sex. Just golf and maybe food.”
I bite my lip in indecision, but the look in his eyes has me wavering. I can only squeak out, “Okay.”
Then, I turn and walk quickly back to the guestroom and close the door, my back to it. “Oh, my God,” I breathe, trying not to smile. His cock is seriously beautiful and it’s taking everything in me not to go back in there and help myself to it.
I grab my clothes from last night, minus the panties which I shove into my purse, and use the guest bathroom to take a quick shower without washing my hair. While inside, I use the bar soap to scrub off all my makeup and I feel a little better when I emerge, glad I managed to distract myself with getting clean instead of thinking about Carter’s beautiful cock and how I’d like to violate it a few different ways.
Once I’m dressed, I find a blessed hair tie in my purse and put my hair into a messy bun before walking out into the kitchen where the smell of coffee leads me like a tether.
Carter is standing there barefoot in blue jeans and a red V-neck T-shirt that clings to his body. His black hair is damp and he hasn’t shaved. It’s seriously sexy.
He looks me up and down with a smile. “Coffee?”
I nod.
He pushes a glass coffee cup at me and sets a flavored almond milk creamer next to it.
I pour some in and take a sip. It’s expensive, decadent, and I am now officially ruined on all coffee from here on out.
I close my eyes. “Mmm.”
“Delicious, isn’t it?” he suggests.
“Absolutely. What is it?”
He holds up a red bag of some brand I’ve never heard of. “Espresso roast. I won’t drink anything else unless I’m in a pinch.”
“I can see why.” I take another sip. “Say, do you think we could stop by my condo before we go out? I’d like to wear something a little more comfortable.”
“Of course,” he responds. “Just no makeup. You look beautiful without it.”
My hackles rise. I’ve heard guys tell women this before. It’s sometimes said as a control thing, thinking it’ll keep other men away. I’ll admit I’d laid it on thick last night, in the mood for a smoky eye and red lips. But I do still wear some day to day, just because it makes me feel better and more confident.
“I’ll keep it to a minimum,” I promise.
That seems to make him happy.
“I’m going to grab my shoes and do something with this hair.” He points to his head. “Then I’ll be right out. There’s protein bars in the pantry and yogurt in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “I’m good with coffee.”
I wait just a couple of minutes before he emerges in some brand name dark-gray sneakers and his hair is shellacked to perfection. He really does have nice hair. It’s thick and dark and his hairline isn’t even really receding. He must have good genes.
“You ready?” he asks, giving me a rare smile.
I down the rest of the delicious coffee. “Yep.”
***
