Didn't Mean To Love You (Serendipitous Love Book 2)

by Christina C Jones

  “I was hoping we could walk down there together.”

  “I’d rather not.” I kept my lips pressed together in a tight line, picking at imaginary lint on my sweater as if I was bored as I waited for his response.

  “Oh.” His shoulders visibly slacked as he slowly nodded. “I… I guess I’ll see you there.”

  “Okay.”

  I stepped away from the door, ignoring the shock on his face as it swung closed. A few seconds later, he knocked again. Rolling my eyes, I pretended not to hear it as I checked my purse for my keys, cell phone, lip gloss, wallet, and gum. Satisfied that I had everything, I pulled the strap over my shoulder and dimmed the lights, then pulled open the door to leave.

  “You’re still here?” I asked, barely looking at Carter as I locked the door and started for the stairs. He caught me by the hand, tugging to get me to look at him.

  “Frenchy, I’m—”

  “My name is Vivienne.”

  “Viv, I’m—”

  “ — ienne.”

  “What?”

  “Viv-ienne”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, jaw clenched. “Are you serious?”

  “Very.” It was childish, and I damn well knew it, but Carter deserved every bit of frustration I sent him, with his constant hot and cold behavior. Perhaps I could frustrate him as much as he’d frustrated me.

  “Vivienne,” he said, his expression tense. “I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was crossing a line we shouldn’t have crossed, and I don’t really have an excuse for it. But I’m sorry.”

  I shouldn’t have kissed you.

  His apology was meant to make me feel better, but instead it felt like a knife being driven deeper, although I knew he was right. It wasn’t a line we needed to cross, not if we were supposed to be friends. It was that realization that made me mumble “apology accepted”, then turn on my heels to head down the stairs, with Carter trailing behind me.

  Outside, I made my way quickly through the cold, trying not to care that Carter wasn’t bothering to catch up, although he easily could have. When I made it to Urban Grind, I didn’t even look behind me, just searched the crowd until I found Eddie, then took a seat beside him.

  I knew it was a mistake, but I let Eddie buy me several drinks. I hadn’t told him or Simone about the kiss, but he could tell something was up. By the time it was Roman and Simone’s turn on stage for Open Mic, I had a distinct buzz.

  Singing along, I fake-happied my way through their disgustingly cute acoustic version of Keri Hilson and Neyo’s Knock You Down. But, my faking it turned to real, pure joy when Roman pulled Simone and her adorable baby bump back into the spotlight after their performance and dropped to one knee. Before I knew it, two steady streams of tears were dripping down my face, and I sobbed with happiness for my friends while Roman pushed a gorgeous diamond ring on her finger.

  The feeling persisted long after they’d left the stage, and my mood was so high that when I felt arms around me on the dance floor, I didn’t pull away. I’d been in Carter’s arms enough that I recognized his touch and melted into him, confused as always by the unpredictable display of affection, and aroused by it at the same time. When the song ended, he kissed my forehead before he let me go, then disappeared in the crowd. Through the next few acts, my buzz wore off and gave way to melancholy, which I was starting to get used to. I told Eddie I was going home, turned down his offer to walk me, then left, grateful for the cold winter air on my face. Soon, the cold settled into my bones, and I was just beginning to wish that I’d brought my ear muffs when rapid footsteps behind me made me turn around.

  Carter.

  This time, he caught up, walking in silence beside me until we reached the door of our building, which— as always — he opened for me. Quiet persisted as we climbed the stairs, but I paused at my door, somehow sensing that he had something he wanted to say.

  My back was facing him, but I could feel the warmth radiating from him as he approached, stopping just shy of touching me. “Viv… can I at least call you that?” he asked, his voice hopeful as he leaned against the wall. Briefly, I inhaled the soothing, familiar scent of his cologne, then gave him a subtle nod.

  “I hope we can get back to where we were… I enjoyed kicking it with you. Talking to you.”

  I lifted my hand to my mouth, biting my thumbnail as I turned to face him. “I did as well, but… the mixed signals, Carter… I do not want to be confused whenever I am around you. So… you have to figure that out. Good night.”

  He nodded, giving me a brief smile. “Good night.”

  Back in my apartment, I stripped out of my clothes and climbed into the shower for the third time that day, hoping, praying that this time, a little hot water would do the trick of ruining my pity party, forcing me to snap out of it. When I re-entered my bedroom, I was cleaner, more energized, but unfortunately… feeling no less pitiful than when I’d gone in.

  The flashing light on my cell phone indicated that I had a message, so I pulled it from the charger and turned on the screen. I was surprised to see Carter’s name there. We’d never before used the numbers we exchanged after my near-death experience with the hammer a few weeks before. I lifted my hand to my head, running my fingers along the still-tender scar, remembering how easy it had been to hang out with, and open up to him that night. And every night.

  Shaking my head, I unlocked the phone and went into my messages. I laughed aloud, for the first time in what felt like ages when I read the one he’d sent.

  “So… I meant to tell you… your mom is fine as hell. Tell her I said “what’s up”. — Carter.”

  “Mmhmm. She was flirting with you, but you seemed like you were scared.”

  When my own message was sent, my eyes fell on the time that his message arrived on my phone. Nearly an hour ago.

  “Never. I was being respectful because you were standing there. Your mom could get it. — Carter.”

  “I’ll make sure to tell my dad you said so.”

  “Damn. Forgot about him. — Carter.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “What are you still doing up anyway? It’s past midnight… would have thought you’d be asleep. — Carter.”

  “Nope. I’m a night owl. And anyway, I’m wired. Too many Black Russians at UG tonight.”

  “Caffeine got you hyped up? — Carter.”

  “Yep. That and a hot shower.”

  “Play fair. — Carter.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to play fair. If we’re gonna keep things friendly, you can’t be putting thoughts of you in a hot shower in my head. — Carter.”

  Hmmm.

  I lay back on my pillows, staring across the room at the racy images of myself that had gotten me “in trouble” with my father. Even though he was embarrassed… I did not regret it. Taking — and now, looking at — those pictures, I felt sexy, and powerful, and free. Like a woman unburdened by things like feelings, and a heart. I held up my phone, typing out a message that I reconsidered several times before I finally took the irreversible action of hitting “send”.

  “Sorry. I actually might get up and turn it on again to let the steam build up. Do some naked hot yoga or something to tire myself out. Unless you have any other suggestions for things I could do to burn off energy?”

  I sat back again, waiting on his response, which came back almost immediately.

  “Go to bed, Frenchy. — Carter.”

  “Already there. Got in right after my shower, after I oiled down, didn’t even bother putting anything on yet. Probably won’t. Maybe just appreciate the feeling of the cool sheets on my bare skin.”

  “GO TO SLEEP. — Carter.”

  “I told you, I can’t. Maybe an orgasm will help. I can do that right here from the bed too, don’t even have to get up.”

  “You’re a terrible person. — Carter.”

  “Are you saying I’ve been a bad girl? Perhaps a little punishment…”

  “G
oddamnit, Frenchy. You’re killing me. — Carter.”

  Mission accomplished.

  Satisfied that I’d gotten him hot and bothered, I put the phone back on the charger and ignored it, climbing under the covers to do exactly what I’d said and let my sheets caress me to sleep. Only… I’d been so intent on getting under Carter’s skin that I hadn’t bargained for what my little game would do to me.

  For nearly an hour, I tossed and turned, unable to calm my mind enough to drift off to sleep. Out of desperation, I pulled open my nightstand drawer, but the thought of a self-induced orgasm just made me feel even more wretched.

  Finally, at nearly two in the morning, I climbed out of bed and slipped on panties, a tank top, a hoodie and a pair of yoga pants. I shoved my cell phone and keys into the pocket of my hoodie, slipped my feet into my furry moccasins… and went to knock on Carter’s door.

  We both knew why I was there.

  Because of that, I couldn’t understand why Carter was being so… tender with me.

  When he opened the door to let me in — after the first knock, so I knew he hadn’t been asleep either— we both just stood there, not really looking at each other until finally, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. It was a deep, frantic, exploratory kiss, with his hands gripping my waist, which told me he wanted me as badly as I wanted him. So… yes, he knew why I was there, knew what I wanted, which is why it was baffling to me that now that I was in his bed, in only my tank top and panties after his slow, deliberate removal of my other clothes, he still hadn’t touched me anywhere more intimate than my waist.

  Yes, he’d kissed me. Devoured me really, with gentle nips of his teeth, slow strokes of his tongue, and passionate caresses of his lips, but the places I ached for him to taste, fondle, and stroke went woefully ignored.

  “Carter,” I said, whimpering in pleasure as the warm moisture of his tongue made contact just below my ear.

  “Yeah?”

  I lowered my gaze to meet his. “I don’t need all of this. I’m ready… I was… ready when I knocked on your door. You don’t have to do this.”

  Carter sat up. “That dude you were with before, Derrick—”

  “Darren.”

  He lifted a hand, brushing it through the air. “Whatever the fuck his name was… I know he wasn’t doing a damn thing for you in the bedroom. And… you haven’t been with anybody else since you split with him… right?”

  “Right….” A fluttery feeling sparked in my belly when he briefly closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging in visible relief. “What makes you think Darren wasn’t good in bed? I’ve never told you anything of the sort.”

  His face dropped into a smirk. “You didn’t have to. His corny ass did. Every time I ran into him, he was smug as hell, especially if you were there. Groping you, making sure I saw it… little dumb shit like that. A man who was putting it down right wouldn’t be so insecure… but, you were giving me the eye when you were with him, so maybe that’s why he was insecure.”

  “I was not,” I said, smacking him on the shoulder.

  Carter scowled. “Whatever, Frenchy. You know you wanted me to sneak into your bedroom one night and lay the hammer down on you one good time.”

  I burst into laughter. “Lay the hammer down?”

  “Hey. I said what I said, okay?” He chuckled, then leaned forward, placing a soft kiss against my lips. “But… seriously though… tell me if I’m right. Was he really getting the job done?”

  “He did okay.”

  Yeah, right.

  Truthfully, Darren was a pretty selfish lover most of the time, and it wasn’t rare for me to have to go into my nightstand drawer to finish the job. I enjoyed his company, and he was good to me — I thought — so I told myself it was something I could live with. His other qualities were supposed to make up for it. But… that was a pitiful little truth I wasn’t about to admit out loud.

  “He did okay.” Carter repeated my words, shaking his head. “See? That’s why yeah, I do have to do this. Let me take care of you, okay?”

  I nodded, closing my eyes as his lips found that moisture-inducing spot on my neck again. Was it even possible to say “no” to a man wanting to “take care” of you in this way? How was I supposed to deny him, when he was kissing his way down to my stomach and then back up to remove my tank top? There was a sharp intake of breath, then a quiet chuckle when my breasts were revealed, and I opened my eyes to his fascinated stare.

  “Are you serious, Frenchy?” he whispered, not really wanting an answer as he ran his thumbs over the dainty silver hoops that pierced my nipples. I closed my eyes, arching my back away from the bed when his mouth replaced his thumb. Carter was completely unhurried as he traced my nipple with his tongue, using his teeth to gently tug my piercing. I whimpered, half in pleasure, half in pain as he used his fingers to pull the other. “Open your eyes.”

  I followed his instruction, watching through half-lidded eyes as my nipple disappeared into his mouth. Carter glanced up to gauge my reaction and I nodded, half-desperate to feel whatever was next. He suckled, hard, sending hot electricity from my fingertips to my toes, settling into an intense throb between my legs. He did that again, a little more gently this time, then began a slow massage with his tongue. Switching positions, he gave my other breast the same attention, then lifted his hand to stimulate both sides at once.

  Pressure mounted in me like a piece of metal being coiled into a spring, tighter, and tighter, until I could barely breath, barely see, barely feel anything, and then… it released, and I came, squirming and arching my back, pushing myself closer to him in an effort to hold on to the heady sensation as long as possible.

  I went limp, eyes closed, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath and make sense of the fact that Carter had given me an orgasm without even taking off my panties. It has to be the piercings. It had to be. Darren had certainly never given my breasts such detailed attention, and seemed somewhat turned off by the piercings, so it was a completely new sensation. That was all. It had to be.

  When I opened my eyes, Carter was hovering over me, his eyes bright with interest as he studied my face. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Because I like watching you come,” he replied, his gaze drifting down to my lips just before he lowered himself to kiss me. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, starting a slow, sensual massage against mine before he eased away. “I wanna see you do it again.” Carter whispered those words against my lips as his fingers slid into my panties, sending high-voltage pinpricks of energy rushing over my skin.

  He didn’t immediately push inside of me. Instead, two fingers glided over my slick, swollen flesh while he manipulated his thumb in slow, torturous circles. “Don’t close your eyes,” he commanded, meeting my gaze as he finally dipped his fingers into me, eliciting a low moan of satisfaction that didn’t even seem like it had come from my throat.

  Carter brought his mouth to mine, catching my bottom lip between his teeth as he pushed further, with deep, tremble-inducing strokes that had me rolling my hips against his fingers.

  “Do you want me to taste you?” I gave him a vigorous nod, not giving a damn if I seemed frantic or eager, because, hell, I was frantic and eager. “Uh-uh. Head nod isn’t gonna work. I want you to tell me.”

  I blushed, biting my bottom lip as our eyes met. “I want you to taste me.”

  Carter smirked, still working me with his hand as he bent to place another pleasurably bruising kiss against my collarbone. He pulled back, suckling both breasts before he kissed a trail between them, then lower. His tongue dipped into my belly button, playing briefly with the silver ring that adorned it before he continued.

  He sat up on the bed, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my panties to slide them over my hips, down my legs, then tossed them across the room. He spread my legs wide, lips parted as he stared, apparently intrigued by what he saw. “Keep your eyes open,” he said, and then his mouth was on me.

  Carter used the entire wid
th of his tongue to give me a slow, broad lick that brought me up on my elbows, angling my head to watch as he pushed his fingers inside of me again, moving them in a “come hither” motion that made me feel lightheaded with arousal. He used his other hand to spread me apart, then put his tongue to work again, weaving, circling, and zigzagging until I was out of breath, and rocketing quickly toward another release. He put his whole mouth on me, lapping and sucking as he made sounds that left no doubt in my mind that he was enjoying this just as much — if not more— than I was.

  His face was buried between my legs, thighs anchored on his shoulders and pressed against his ears as he growled something that sounded like a compliment on the way I tasted, but the pressure of another orgasm was roaring in my ears, so I couldn’t really tell and didn’t really care, as long as his mouth stayed on me until I … peaked. And goddamn, there it was, splintering me into a billion pieces before I came back together, gripping handfuls of his locs to keep his mouth on me until the feeling passed, and I could safely collapse onto the bed, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

  Then Carter was on top of me again, pushing my hair out of my face so he could kiss me, seducing me with my own flavor as he pushed his tongue into my mouth. “Are you on birth control?” he asked, wiping the evidence of my orgasm from his face with my discarded tank top.

  I nodded, and he kissed me again before he pulled back, his expression serious. “If it’s okay with you… I really just wanna feel you, nothing between us. I’ve got STD results, medical records—”

  “Carter, shut up.” I buried my hand in his locs, pulling him into another kiss as I slipped my other hand between us, then into his boxers to grip the smooth, velvety hardness of his erection. I kept my gaze locked with his as I pushed his boxers over his hips, then pressed myself upwards so that we were almost touching. He pulled away though, stepping down from the bed to completely remove his boxers, then positioned himself again between my legs.

  He paused, lifting an eyebrow in silent communication that there was no turning back now. This was the end of the illusion that we were “friends”. I nodded, and he sank between my legs, filling me to the point of almost pain, but enough pleasure that it didn’t matter, not even a little. Just that quickly, I was high again, taking hit after hit of him with each slow, slick stroke as he moved inside me.