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I lose all sense of time and reason when his tongue darts into my center.
Over and over, it moves, and I meet each thrust with one of my own. Eventually, Carter sinks his fingers into my waist and pins me to the mattress, so I’m unable to do anything. Another orgasm washes over me, and I call out his name like a prayer. Carter quickly replaces his tongue, his movements quick and precise as he seeks his own release.
When it finally comes, he looks up at the ceiling and empties himself into me.
As soon as Carter unties me, I pull him to me and bury my face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worried.”
Carter’s fingers glide over my bare back. “I have no idea how Donahue managed to get to you in time, but I’m glad he did.”
I stir and look back at him. “I’m not going to leave you for him, Carter.”
Carter doesn’t meet my gaze, but his hand stops moving. He gets up, pulls his clothes back on, and leaves the room. I have the sheets pulled up to my chin when he returns with a tray of food. He watches me eat in silence until I’m too tired to keep my eyes open.
My last thought before I fall asleep is how much I want to comfort him.
Because what kind of chance do we have if Carter still thinks I’m going to leave him?
Chapter Thirty-One
Carter
I pry one eye open, the banging in the back of my skull still continuing. When I peel myself away from Isabella, who makes a low whimpering noise in the back of her throat, I force my other eye open. Then I realize that the banging isn’t in my head.
It’s coming from somewhere in the house.
With a growl, I pick my shorts up off the floor, tug them on, and take the stairs two at a time. Tristan barely has time to react before I grab him by the scruff of his neck and yank him inside. Frowning, I keep my grip around his neck, even as my cousin squirms and tries to push me off him. But we both know I’m stronger and a lot more capable than he is.
“You better have a damn good reason for waking me up,” I say, pausing to pull him closer so my bare teeth are inches away from his gaze. “I’m fucking waiting.”
“Loosen your grip first,” Tristan replies with a pointed look. “That’s no way to treat family.”
I growl and give Tristan a firm shake. “If you want a warm greeting, that can be fucking arranged.”
Tristan holds both hands up. “Jesus, what’s got you so on edge? I thought you’d be happy to have Isabella back.”
I shove Tristan away and run a hand over my face. “You need to learn to mind your own fucking business. Not everything has to be up for discussion.”
Or subject to every prying eye and busybody in the family.
Especially not Tristan, of all people.
Because I still haven’t forgotten what he almost cost me.
Sometimes, when I look at him, I can still see Isabella’s face, contorted in fear and worry. Then I see her ripped clothes and staunch refusal to turn on Tristan, the man who put her in harm’s way to begin with. With a slight shake of my head, I fold my arms over my bare chest and give Tristan an angry look. He draws himself up to his full height and clears his throat.
I half-expect him to pull his phone out and show me Lilian’s damn article.
The one that has me more rattled than I’d like to admit.
“I wanted to confirm the news myself before I came to you,” Tristan begins in a strange voice. “The Natoris and Philipses have banned together.”
“I know that already. Talk faster, or I’m going to have one less cousin in the family.”
Tristian frowns. “I’m getting to that. I’ve had a few guys keep their noses pressed to the ground. They’re not making it a secret that they’re working together, and they’re throwing the full force of their support behind the mayor.”
I let my arms fall to my sides, and I clench them into fists. “We already suspected as much. Again, this better not be why you woke me up.”
Or Tristan is going to go home to Sam with a lot more than a black eye.
