by Mariano, Sam
“Oh, well, that seems fair, then.”
He nods. “It works out. Then at the end of the day, we can both take off our public faces, shake off our snobby colleagues, and reconnect with what’s real. Every night, I curl up with a woman who knows me and likes me anyway, and every night, you get to curl up beside a man who finds you as endlessly fascinating as you find your work.”
Even though I know he’s just playing with me, his words wrap around me like vines. They shake me like nothing he’s ever said before, tempt me like no words ever have.
I want that.
I know logically it’s much too soon to know whether or not I could ever have that with him, but that it’s his scenario… maybe.
“You find me endlessly fascinating?” I ask.
Bending his head to kiss my neck, he murmurs near my ear, “I’ve never met anyone I could talk to the way I can with you. You know exactly who you are and what you stand for, but you have an openness I’ve never encountered before. You’re not stubborn like most people; it’s not your way or the highway. You’re curious and flexible, you’ll try out new ways of approaching things rather than accepting the beaten path as the only way. I love the breadth of your mind. I love just hanging out and talking with you, and…” He unbuttons my jeans. “I’m a pretty big fan of everything else we do, too.”
This time, I don’t even stall. He unbuttons and unzips my pants, sliding his hand down inside. Lust twists low in my belly and I let my eyes drift closed as his hand cups me, his fingers sliding under the fabric of my panties so he can touch me.
Pushing a finger inside me, he leans close and catches my gasp in his mouth. “I love the way you feel,” he mumbles against my lips. “The way you taste. I love your little cries when I make you come.”
With his words warming me up so effectively, my response to his touch is immediate and electrifying. His finger rubs against my clit and my whole body jerks, lightning rods of pleasure coursing straight through me. I grab onto his shoulders and pull him closer, feeling the pronounced rise and fall of my chest as I breathe harder.
“I spend every day of my life with people who like the look of a mask I wear, Zoey. You’re the only person who likes what’s underneath better.”
“Carter,” I murmur, needing to kiss him, to express affection. I bend to reach him, brushing my lips against his. His words massage my mind and my heart, his fingers work my body, and in no time at all, I cry out against his mouth as I come apart.
My body is boneless in the aftermath, and my eyes drift closed. I’m tired, satisfied, and Carter’s bed is so comfortable. He moves down the bed and pulls off my jeans. My panties come off next, then he starts tugging my new Longhorns tank top up my midriff.
“You don’t want to leave my Longhorns shirt on and pretend I’m an eager-to-please Carter Mahoney fan?” I tease.
“And miss the chance to watch your tits bounce while I fuck you? I don’t think so.”
I sit up enough for him to drag the tank top off over my head, then start to recline against the mattress again. Before I can, Carter gets his hand around my back and unsnaps my bra, then he drags that off, too.
Once more, I’m stripped bare, and Carter is still fully dressed. He comes down on top of me, the smooth fabric of his T-shirt soft against my skin. The sensation of the fabric dragging across my nipples causes them to harden. On instinct, I arch my breasts closer to him, craving his touch.
His hand slides down my side and he anchors it on my hip, pulling me as he rolls onto his back so that I end up on top of him.
“Are you sore from last night?” he asks.
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” I assure him.
Carter smirks. “I wasn’t offering to stop.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Of course you weren’t.”
“Take out your pony tail. I like your hair down.”
As I reach back to pull the elastic band out and free my hair from the heavy pony tail, I murmur sarcastically, “Yes, master.”
Naturally, Carter is not offended by my playful rebuff—he relishes it. “Damn right.”
“I’ve never met anyone who could say things that make me want to smack them, but also kiss them. You’re the first.”
“That’s because when I say it, you know we’re on the same side.”
“Are we on the same side?” I ask lightly, sliding down so that I’m lying on top of him, my hair down around my shoulders now.
“Of course we are,” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to caress the ball of my shoulder, then playing with a lock of my hair. “Believe me, Zoey, it’s easy to tell when you’re on my bad side. You haven’t been since the first time I actually saw you, volleying back and forth with me in the middle of your greatest humiliation. You know when to fight and when to stand down. You’re perfect for me.”
“Do you want me to fight tonight?” I inquire.
Carter shakes his head. “Nah. I want to make love to you tonight.”
His words make my tummy bottom out. He’s saying all the nice things tonight, and I like it. Suspicion whispers at the back of my mind though, trying to convince me he’s saying nice words because he knows he needs to, just to melt away my reasonable doubts.
I don’t want to let suspicion ruin this, but I don’t want to turn a blind eye, either. Looking at his chest instead of his face, playing with the fabric of his T-shirt, I ask, “How do I know you’re not playing me like you play everyone else?”
“You don’t,” he says, simply.
I meet his gaze. “That’s scary, you know.”
“Anything that isn’t safe can be scary,” he states. “I’ll never be the safe bet, Zoey.”
“I know,” I murmur. “I just…” I try to think of how to explain the simplest thing in the world, that like all people entering into a new relationship, I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want him to smash my heart into pieces so small, it will never be the same, and land a massive blow to my pride on top of it, because the red flags were out in the open, blowing in the breeze, and I ignored all of them to try to connect with him.
“You just need to start trusting me,” he finishes for me.
“Trust the scary, unpredictable sociopath?” I ask lightly, leaning down to kiss him to take any potential sting out of my words.
Carter reaches up and grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging me off him and rolling me on my back. “Not a sociopath.”
“Right,” I murmur. “You’re just manipulative, fine with exploiting and violating the rights of others, callously disregarding—”
Rather than allow me to continue my diagnosis, Carter kisses me. Then he finally undresses, flinging his clothes onto the floor with mine and coming back down on top of me, this time, naked.
“I know we joke about this from time to time, but I need you to know it’s a joke. If you think I’m pathological, you’re never going to trust me.”
“Girlfriend Zoey agrees that what you said makes sense. Watchdog Zoey says of course it’s true—you need me to trust you so you can keep manipulating me and getting your way while doin’ whatever the hell you want.”
“I wasn’t born this way,” he assures me. “I used to be more normal, then I realized the world sucks, everyone in it sucks, and I needed to toughen up and look out for myself, because no one else is gonna look out for me. Can’t be a sociopath, because they’re born, not made. My brain wasn’t wired this way.”
That’s the most revealing thing he has ever said to me. “You rewired it. That’s a lot of work. Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is, I protect myself and my own interests. You’re one of my interests. You’re safe. I want you; I’m not going to hurt you. If I just wanted some dopey doormat I could cheat on, I could find one, easily. That’s not what I want, and I’d never try to turn you into one. I only cut down people I don’t like or don’t give a shit about. You don’t fall into either category.”
Cracking a smile as I look up at him, I tease, “You saying you care about
me, Mahoney?”
Picking up the teasing gauntlet while imprisoning me with his body, he says, “Maybe a little bit.”
He’s still a little scary despite his reassuring words, because he’s right—he’ll never be the safe bet, and maybe that means I’ll always be aware of his capacity for damage. Maybe he’s feeding me lies, and they taste better than the truth, so I want to swallow them, even though it will undoubtedly mean trouble later.
But maybe he’s telling the truth, and Erika is just doing what some girls do when they still want a guy who doesn’t want them anymore—scaring off the competition, like my not-at-all-serious joke about stalking Carter at Columbia. I, personally, would never do something like that because it’s desperate, and any man who made me feel desperate to keep him when he’s desperate to get away would be a man better cut loose, anyway.
That’s a personal choice though, and one I would abide no matter how painful for the sake of my own self-respect. My ability to feel good about myself is crucial to my own identity, and I know the parameters. I know what I expect from myself, where the line is drawn and what I can’t bend to tolerate. A cheating boyfriend tops the “hell no” list.
Just because I feel that way about it doesn’t mean Erika does, though. Like Carter pointed out, putting up with his shit comes with perks. I haven’t taken as much advantage of them yet—I’m not even sure I want to—but Erika was with him for a while, so surely she knows all the ins and outs of being Carter’s girlfriend.
Me, I’m still in the 101 class, and some days I don’t even feel qualified for that one. I need Remedial Mahoney 099 or something. Maybe grab up an elective—Carter’s Backstory 089.
Carter leans in and kisses his way up my neck, lighting up my nerve endings and drawing a shudder of pleasure out of me. He follows up the assault to my senses by pulling back and looking down at me with unrestrained tenderness. When he looks at me like that, all I want to do is kiss him.
“I must care about you a little bit, too,” I offer back.
Carter smiles. “Just a little bit, huh?”
I hold up my thumb and forefinger to show a miniscule distance between them.
“Let’s see what I can do to change that,” he murmurs, before resuming his trail of kisses—but this time, down my abdomen, across my pelvic bone, and finally, between my thighs.
Chapter 29
Carter’s body shifts, the bicep that serves as my pillow moving and displacing my head. It wasn’t easy finding a comfortable way to lay on him to begin with, so I grumble and curl into him even harder.
“Stop squirming,” I mutter.
Chuckling, he leans in and kisses my forehead. “It’s time to get up, sleeping beauty.”
“Never.”
“Not a morning person?”
“Mornings are the devil’s work. Your bed is so comfortable. Your bedding is so soft. I don’t understand why you ever leave your bed.”
“It’s much more tempting to stay in it when you’re here with me,” he offers. “Wanna blow off your church thing and stay here all day?”
Aw, man. I was nestled up in a comfy sleep fog and I totally forgot I volunteered to help out at the church this morning. Instead of getting up, I keep my eyes closed. “I should tell Grace I’ll be late. She probably already did everything last night anyway. Grace enjoys mornings—you know, like a psycho.”
I nearly jump out of my skin as Carter’s bedroom door flies open. I grab the blanket on top of us and yank it against my breasts, my heart stalling as I look up into the face of a middle-aged woman with copper-colored hair and a tired smile.
“Good morning, dear.” She glances at me and nods. “Carter’s friend.”
I blink, confounded by her calmness at finding a girl naked in her son’s bed. Surely this is Carter’s mom. She doesn’t resemble him much at all, but she called him dear.
Before another word can be said, a much smaller female hauls an armful of stuffed animals into the bedroom. Carter’s little sister is wearing a crown, a princess dress over her clothing, and blue sparkly eye shadow that has been smeared clear up to her tiny, dark eyebrows.
“Don’t I look pretty?” she demands.
Dutifully, Carter looks her over. “Looking sharp, kiddo. What are you all dressed up for?”
“Breakfast. My princess in the book Mama read me last night dresses up before she goes down to breakfast, so I did, too. Come on, it’s time to eat. Hi, bookstore lady,” she adds, an apparent afterthought.
Swallowing down my awkwardness, I offer a much more sheepish, “Hi, Chloe.”
Turning on her plastic sparkle heels, she announces, “I’m taking my animals down to breakfast, but we’ll save you guys a seat.”
“How considerate,” Carter says, dryly. “We’ll be down in a minute.”
We?
Carter’s mom flashes me a bland smile and pulls his door closed once Chloe vacates the room.
Wide-eyed, I prop myself up on an elbow and stare at Carter. “That was so weird.”
“What?”
My eyes widen even more. “That! Is your mom used to finding random girls in your bed?”
“She’s not used to it, but it’s not like she thinks I’m a virgin. House guests don’t bother her.” Drawing the blanket off his abdomen, he sits on the edge of the bed and stretches. “We should go downstairs. Chloe will come back up to get us if we take too long. She’s an assertive little shit.”
I sit up, pulling the bed sheets around me rather than dropping them. “I wasn’t planning to stay for breakfast. I don’t think you were planning that either, were you? I mean, your parents were at the game last night and I didn’t meet them. Awkward morning after breakfast sounds much less ideal.”
“It won’t be awkward,” he says dismissively, standing with his back to me so that I get distracted admiring his ass and forget about the horrible prospect of sitting there with his parents. They would both know their son banged me last night. How could it not be awkward?
Following his lead despite my hesitance, I climb off the bed. I’d really prefer a shower before we go downstairs. Carter came inside me again last night, despite my asking him to pull out. He reasoned that pulling out was kind of pointless, and ignored me when I asked him to do it anyway. Consequently, my thighs still feel a little sticky, and I can’t imagine sitting there with his parents and little sister, still feeling Carter between my legs.
“I have to shower. I can be fast, but considering you’re bound and determined to make your mother a grandma, I’d like to make a better first impression than this.”
Carter chokes on laughter, but since he told me Chloe would come get us if we dawdled, I don’t wait to hear his response.
* * *
After the world’s quickest shower, I put on last night’s clothes and head downstairs with Carter. One more reason I shouldn’t be going to this breakfast is that I can’t go to church in what I’m wearing, so I’ll have to stop home first.
I text Grace to let her know I might be a little late as Carter leads me toward the dining room. I haven’t been in this room yet, but his house is pretty big, so there are quite a few rooms I haven’t seen.
The dining room is gray and white with a chandelier hanging over the table, dark hardwood flooring, and a wall of windows, letting in a stream of light from the big back yard. I see patio furniture out there, but my gaze snaps right back to the table. There’s a dark-haired man with his back to us. He has Carter’s broad shoulders, a matured version of his physique, and he’s wearing a pristine navy blue suit. There’s a newspaper open in his hands and the table is quiet. Carter’s mom is just sitting down, so she glances up at us with another weak smile as she takes her seat. Chloe is seated and poking her eggs with a fork, but there’s a scowl on her cute little face, telegraphing her displeasure.
“Good morning,” Carter offers to the room as he leads me straight past the table and into the next room. It’s the kitchen—a big kitchen. I wish I had this kitchen.
&n
bsp; At the center of the cooking area is an island with a wooden surface, polished and gleaming. There are chairs all around that, and I would really rather eat there, but that would probably be rude.
There’s a fancy coffee machine on the counter beyond the island, and a line of breakfast dishes. Carter opens a cupboard and grabs two plates, then passes one to me.
“Wow, does your mom make breakfast like this every morning?” I ask him.
“Most mornings.”
“My mom buys Pop-Tarts,” I offer, smiling wryly as I eye up the steaming dishes.
Carter is spoiled and does not adequately appreciate this breakfast feast. I do, and my mouth waters as I scoop a little bit of everything up and put it on my plate. I didn’t even know how hungry I was, but man, it all looks and smells so good.
Carter glances at my plate and smirks. “Hungry?”
“I need the extra nourishment,” I inform him, lifting my eyebrows. “I’m probably eatin’ for two.”
“Jesus Christ,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“If I keep talkin’ about it, maybe it will finally sink in that you need to wear a damn condom. I know you get a kick out of ignorin’ me when I tell you not to do something sexual, but refusing to wear a condom shouldn’t be included in your deviance.”
“I like being inside you without a condom.”
“You’re gonna like it a whole lot less when you’re explainin’ to your Columbia wife five years from now why you’re paying child support to some girl you used to know in Texas.”
“I’m getting married in five years? To someone else? Why are you still in Texas? I feel like you left a lot out of the missing years, here. Anyway, you could just get an abortion and go on about your life,” he points out.
“I’m spendin’ both of my weekend days at church, Carter. You really think I’m gonna get an abortion because you can’t be bothered to wrap it up? Nope. I would have the baby and curse you forever.”
“You wanted one or two to play in the leaf piles anyway. Jeeze, does nothing make you happy? It is like we’re married.”