Carson is at my side in the blink of an eye. “You’re drunk,” he accuses.
I roll my eyes. “I’m just a little tipsy…” I giggle as I almost tip over again. “Tipsy… topsy… turvy…” I snicker like I’m the funniest thing ever.
He starts talking in grunts before he throws me up over his shoulder, and I’m face to ass with the best butt I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Glad you like my ass, darlin’.”
Oops. Did I say that out loud?
“Yes, you did.”
“Well, I’m not wrong. It’s a nice ass.” I grope it because my arms are dangling, so they might as well do something. “Too bad the ass of my dreams is stuck to the biggest ass in the world.”
Carson cracks his hand down on my ass, and I squeal. “You can’t spank me!”
His hand cracks down again. “Want to make a bet, darlin’? You deserve a spanking. One that you’ll remember next time you decide to get drunk, then try to bring yourself home.”
“Lani drove me home…” I argue, not understanding his meaning.
“You’re precious, and someone could easily take advantage of you like this…”
I laugh at that because he’s being ridiculous. “Who, Mr. Beatie?”
Carson growls lowly, the sound reverberates through my body, causing me to shiver with need. I can just imagine what having him growl like that while he kisses me. Why the heck am I thinking about kissing him? I hate him, and he hates me.
Kissing him isn’t happening.
Not ever.
Carson takes my keys from me and unlocks my pretty red door. The door that he painted, apparently. “Why’d you make my house all perfect?” I ask. Something I never would’ve gotten the courage to ask if it weren’t for the wine coursing through my veins.
“Do you like it?”
I nod, realize that he can’t see my head as I’m still thrown over his shoulder as he walks through my house to my bedroom. I would be horrified under any other circumstances, but right now, I’m a little flustered, and a whole lot turned on.
“I love the house. Everything is perfect,” I answer honestly.
“That’s why.”
I let his words sink in for a long minute. He made it perfect because he wanted me to like it? For some reason, that makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable because if someone hates you, they don’t do nice things. Do they?
I let out a little scream when Carson tosses me onto the bed. He looks down at me, and I can imagine him doing this under totally different circumstances. Sexy circumstances… Naked circumstances. Instead, he strides out of the bedroom to the bathroom. I hear him rummaging around, and I’m starting to feel pretty incensed about the whole situation. Then the sink runs, and he’s setting a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on my nightstand.
I’m a little shocked when he starts taking off my shoes. Even more shocked when he tucks me into bed. And then he ruins it all by opening his big dumb mouth. “Drink the water and take the pain killers.”
Logically, I know that he’s taking care of me, but drunken me takes his words as judgmental and jerkish. Even so, I drink the water and take the pills. He refills the water glass and leaves it on the bedside table.
I lie down and snuggle into the blankets. I drift in that place between sleep and wakefulness. Something brushes lightly on my forehead, and if I didn’t know that Carson hates me, I would think he just kissed me. Sleep claims me before I can give it any more thought.
4
Carson
The Harley growls to life, and the same thrill that went through me the first time I rode never fails to flow through me. Only this one sputters and dies. I look at the once magnificent piece of metal in disgust. On my last trip to deliver the restored classic Harley to its new owner, I found three more project bikes. How anyone can let their bike turn into this sad mess is beyond me.
I grab up my tools and start in with taking the first bike apart. Time to work my magic. Time to turn this bike into something someone will be proud to ride. I’ll bring it back to its former glory with a little extra. My official job is a mechanic… I own Sweet Rides, the only repair shop in the county but fixing up Harleys is my passion. Not to mention my bread and butter.
I’m in the middle of taking apart the engine when my phone buzzes with a reminder—lunchtime. Which means it’s time to go see my girl. This is the best part of my day. Seeing Ana even if she’s working, and even if I have to watch her from across the diner now that I’m banned from sitting in her section, it’s still worth it. Anytime I can get my eyes on her is worth whatever the cost.
The diner is surprisingly busy for our sleepy town. It doesn’t take long to realize that over half of the patrons are unfamiliar faces—tourists. Don’t get me wrong, tourists are crucial to our small town, but they have zero respect for Sugarhill. They cause trouble for everyone. Last tourist season Sheriff Weber had to arrest two drunken tourists who were caught spray painting the bridge that passes over the river into Clearwater. It’s the first time in five years that our jail was used.
This group looks to be made up of college-aged frat boy types with some bored-looking girls sitting beside some of them. They’re probably here for the music festival that is going on in the city an hour away. Why they would wander into our parts eludes me. Usually, the tourists are older couples looking for a nice relaxing weekend with our majestic mountains in the distance and the beautiful lakes that sit just past the town limits.
Ana has her smile pasted on her face as she refills water glasses at one of the tables. It’s the smile she gets when she’s faking it for the customer’s benefit. I watch with narrowed eyes trying to decide if it’s because she’s hungover or if it’s the diners she’s serving.
I don’t have to wonder for long…
“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that. We just want to take you out on the lake,” he looks her up and down salaciously, “I can imagine your tight little body wrapped up in a barely-there bikini. You’d be the prettiest arm candy of them all.”
The girl sitting next to him looks beyond pissed but doesn’t say anything.
“I’m working, but thanks for the offer,” Ana says, her voice strained, but her smile never drops. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
The douche who was talking licks his lips. “Nothing but you, baby.” Before she can move out of the way, the idiot pulls her in close, practically onto his lap. “You shouldn’t be such a cock te-”
I don’t let him finish his disgusting sentence. I grab my girl and carefully set her out of harm’s way before turning my burning eyes on the jackass and his friends. “Hands off, asshole.”
The kid looks up at me, then up some more as I tower over him. I don’t usually use my stature to intimidate people, but I’m making an exception this time.
“We’re just having a bit of fun, man. Chill.”
I growl low in my throat. “If you think abusing the waitstaff is just a ‘bit of fun,’ then you should go back to the city and stay there. We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here in Sugarhill.”
He sputters as I take a step back. I turn to look at Ana, who is standing there looking at me like I just grew two heads and horns.
The idiot makes a colossal mistake. He stands up, being braver than he should be with his little friends to back him up. I’m a retired mixed martial arts fighter. Him and his puny friends have zero chance of intimidating me. “Hey dick,” he says, trying to sound hard. “You don’t tell me where to go. Do you know who my parents are?”
I laugh. “I don’t care if your mom is the Queen of fucking England, you don’t treat ladies like they are a commodity. Not in my town.”
I see it before he even moves. The look in his eyes says that he’s about to do something stupid. And two seconds later, his fist flies out in a weak punch. I grab his fist in one of my hands and squeeze until his bones grind together. Not hard enough to break, but hard enough that he realizes I could break every bone in his hand wi
th just a bit more pressure.
“Hey man, chill,” one of his friends says. “He was just fucking around.”
I let go of his hand and point to the door. “Lunch is on me, asshole. Now get.”
I’m mildly surprised when the whole group leaves without a word—a little rush of disappointment courses through me. I wanted to pound his face in. The adrenaline high fighting gave me is right there, teasing through my veins. I watch as they scurry off with their tails between their legs.
I turn my attention back to Ana. She’s staring at me in shock. “Are you okay, darlin’?”
She blinks a couple times then seems to snap out of it. “I’m fine. I had that under control,” she says petulantly.
“Sure, you did,” I agree, realizing that I’ve hurt her pride.
Her eyes burn blue fire at me. “I did, I worked at Hooters while I was in college before I moved back to take care of my grandma Ruth. I know how to handle assholes.”
My back straightens, anger burning through me at the thought of her working at a place like that with their itty-bitty uniforms. Part of me wants to rage at her for working there. Another part wants to see if she still has that uniform—mainly my cock.
“Well, most assholes,” she corrects. I don’t miss the fact that it’s a dig against me. I don’t care if she thinks I’m an asshole. I am one… but when it comes to her, it’s only when I feel the need to be protective… some might say obsessive—either way.
I take a step closer to her and wrap my arm around her lower back, pulling her to me. “I’m not your enemy, Ana.”
She looks at me confused for a minute. She probably sees me as the enemy. I realize my gruff ways have done more damage than good over the last several months. It’s time I fix that because I’m done keeping my distance. Ana will realize soon enough that she’s mine.
She pushes at my chest, trying to put distance between us. I tighten my grip on her, not giving her the space she wants. Her blue eyes shoot daggers at me, but I ignore it. “I will never allow someone to do anything to you, Analise. You’re too precious to have someone treat you that way.”
“But-”
I cut her off with a kiss. Right here in the middle of the diner, in front of half the town and God himself. I’m announcing to the world—and Ana—that she’s mine and I protect what’s mine.
She’s stiff at first, still pushing against my chest, but then she softens, her hands fisting in my shirt as her mouth opens to my tongue. She relaxes, losing herself to the sensation of my mouth on hers. I deepen the kiss, our tongues dancing together. She lets out a little sigh when I pull away, licking her lips as if to get the last bit of my flavor.
A round of applause breaks out, and she jumps back, and the sweet, pliant girl is replaced with my tigress. “You can’t just go around kissing people!” she hisses.
I give her a lopsided grin. “I think I just did.”
“It’s… but… I can’t…” she sputters.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Tell me, darlin’, are you wet for me?”
Her breaths come rougher, and I know I’m right. She’s turned on and is angry about it. She doesn’t want to be attracted to me. I’ll show her how right this is.
“That’s none of your business,” she says for my ears only.
I lick my lips. “I bet your little pussy is as sweet as you are. I grip her hair and pull her head back for another kiss—this one softer, sweeter. Once again, she melts for me. “Get used to me kissing you, Ana… it’s going to happen a lot more.”
She looks at me wide-eyed but doesn’t argue. Whether it’s because she knows it’s useless or because she’s as affected by me as I am her and she doesn’t want to protest, I don’t know. Either way is a win for me. She’ll learn in time it’s a win for her too.
5
Ana
He kissed me! In public. At my job. In front of half the town. Holy crap. That’s not exactly how I thought my first kiss would happen, especially not how I pictured it or who I pictured it with… But it was one hell of a good kiss. Well, I think it was. It’s not like I have anything to measure it by. Hours later and my lips are still tingling from his on mine. It’s like he burned the feel and taste of him into my skin.
No matter how much I scold myself, I can’t get the vision of him picking that little shit who felt me up out of his chair and almost crushing his hand when it nearly came to blows out of my mind. I might’ve told him I had it handled but having someone step in for me was hot.
I shake my head; I can’t like Carson. I just can’t. He’s a jerk to me. He hates me—well, at least I thought he did before the kiss. Now, I’m questioning everything.
My phone rings, and I wipe my hands off on my shorts. I escaped to my flower beds the minute my shift ended and have been weeding and digging and planting spring bulbs for hours.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Carson freaking Moore kissed you in the middle of Burnt Sugar, and you didn’t call me?!” Margo says instead of a greeting. I wondered how long it would take for someone to call freaking out. I’m not surprised it’s Margo since her man is my boss and the diner's owner.
“Yeah. He kissed me in front of half the town,” I grumble.
“Was it good?” she asks. She’s one of three people who know about my kiss-less status, so she knows that the moment was more significant than a simple kiss. The fact that I didn’t slap him says it all, really.
I sit back on my knees and think about the moment and how it makes me feel. Desired. Sexy… wanted… oh and horny. “Yeah, it was good,” I answer honestly. “Really good.”
That makes me wonder if it was as good for Carson. He did say there would be more kisses, so it couldn’t have been terrible. I wonder if he realized it was my first kiss. I brush that aside. It’s neither here nor there because he stole it and now it’s his. Though I find that I don’t mind too much.
My protest that we hate each other isn’t even holding up in my own mind. I’m starting to see all the things he’s said and done in the past as protective, if not a bit caveman-ish. I can understand my body betraying me. Carson is freakin’ hot. He’s tall, built like the MMA fighter he used to be, and just sinfully sexy with those ice-cold blue eyes that see way more than you want them too.
That is the only reason why I responded to his kisses. Carnal desire. It has nothing to do with liking him… does it?
“So, what’s the problem?” Margo asks, breaking my train of thought.
I lay back on the grass, looking up at the sky. “He hates me, Mar. How could he kiss someone he hates? Better yet, how could I kiss someone back that I hate?”
“Carson doesn’t hate you. He just has a weird way of showing how much he likes you. He speaks grunt and grumble… Amos was like that at first, too, remember?”
I sigh. “But he looked at you with goo-goo eyes. He never went out of his way to be mean to you like Carson has. He’s insulted me basically every time we’ve talked.”
“But were they insults?” she asks.
“He told me never to wear my purple skirt again! Then remember that pretty emerald green blouse I had? He told me it was inappropriate. The next time I wore it, he spilled gravy on it and ruined it!” My anger is coming back, drowning out the sexual tension his lips breathed into my body.
“I remember the blouse. It’s the one that made your boobs look amazing. And the skirt that makes your legs go on for miles…” she talks slowly as if trying to make a point and giving me a chance to catch up.
“Are you saying he doesn’t like looking at my body?”
I can hear Margo rolling her eyes at my less than brilliant answer. I know exactly what she was hinting at, but if she’s right, then that means I’ve read Carson all wrong, and he does like me—a lot.
“I’m just going to ignore you trying to act like you don’t know what I was getting at. You know you’re gorgeous.”
I close my eyes against the bright sun. There won’t be many days like this l
eft before the fall fully takes over. I let out a sigh when I feel a cloud cover the sun.
“Do you really think he likes me?” I ask, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush on the jerky jock.
“I think he very much likes you,” a voice rumbles from high above me. I open my eyes and see Carson standing over me, blocking the sun.
“Um, Mar, I’ve gotta go.”
“Text me…” she says as I hang up on her.
I swallow thickly and get to my feet to stand in front of him. “He does?” I ask shyly.
Carson gives me a crooked smile. “How could he not like you?” he asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I thought you hated me. You’re always so mean.”
He pulls me to his chest, hugging me. It feels natural to fall into his arms, returning his hug. “Oh baby, I never meant to come off that way. You just drive me crazy.” I move to pull away, but he holds tighter. “Let me finish. I hate knowing that other men are looking at your sexy little body in those short skirts and tight shirts.”
I look up at him in confusion. “Why would you care?”
He lets out a low growl gripping the back of my neck so I can’t hide in the face of the truth. “Because you’re mine. I don’t want any other fucker looking at you. I don’t share.”
With the declaration that makes my head spin, he crashes his lips to mine, devouring me. I stand frozen for a minute, still in shock by Carson’s words. When his tongue licks at my lips and I open for him, the kiss catches fire. He deepens the kiss until our tongues are dancing together. Every bit of self-consciousness on whether I’m doing things right flees from my mind and makes way for enthusiasm. I find myself digging my fingers in his hair, holding his lips to mine, kissing him hungrily. He returns my fervor, his lips and tongue stroking mine.
Making Her Mine (Sweet Somethings Book 3) Page 2