Having Carter in my arms is too good to be true and being able to offer her some comfort in her time of need is priceless. The sheer look of panic on her face when we were taking off was heartbreaking. I couldn’t stop myself from pulling her into my arms even if I tried. And now that she’s here, I never want this moment to end. She fits perfectly against my chest.

Lowering my nose to the top of her hair, I inhale the coconut scent. She smells like vacation in a tropical paradise. My brain automatically conjures up an image of her in a tiny string bikini. It’s light blue to match her eyes and I can see her nipples poking through the small triangles that make up the top. Her wet hair is slicked back into a ponytail. I watch as beads of water trail down her chest to her stomach, finally catching on the edge of her bikini bottoms. My tongue tingles with the urge to lick them from her soft skin.

She raises her head, snapping me out of my tropical beach fantasy, but the reality of her here in my arms is much better - even if she is fully clothed. Our gazes lock and it’s all I can do to keep myself from smashing my lips to hers and tugging her into my lap. My dick is hard as a rock right now and her grinding on it would be a more than enjoyable temporary fix.

My palm caresses down the back of her hair, smoothing the flyaway strands before she relaxes back in her seat. I know our moment is over for now, but I’ll take what I can get. We’ll both be in New York for five days with none of the everyday distractions we face back in Boston. A lot can happen in that time.

“Feel better?” I ask, raising a brow.

She nods, her lips press together and a pink flush stains her cheeks. I think she’s embarrassed now that her bout of panic is over. She’s adorable.

“I don’t like riding on the bus for our away football games,” I mention.

Her head snaps in my direction. “You don’t?”

“No, I get motion sick if I don’t sit near the front.”

She scrunches her nose up. “Really?”

“Yep, honestly. When I was a freshman I had a panic attack on the bus and thought I was having a heart attack. My chest was tight, and I couldn’t breathe.”

She giggles and then looks chagrined. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh at something that had to be terrifying for you. It’s just that I can’t imagine you being scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of plenty.”

She aims a look loaded with skepticism at me. “Why do I think you’re saying this to make me feel better?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I’m petrified of spiders.”

She smiles.

“Really. I’ve been known to scream and shriek like a girl when one is near.”

She snorts. “I think I’d like to see that.”

“Hey, that’s mean. You want to see me scared and fearing for my life?”

“Let’s not go overboard. I don’t think your life would be in jeopardy.”

“I know that now, but when I see one of those black creepy crawlies with a fat furry body, I lose all sense of reason.” I shudder at the visual.

“What else are you scared of?” she questions, turning in her seat to face me.

“I’m scared of sharks. I watched Jaws when I was nine. We were on vacation in Florida at the time. I don’t know what possessed my parents to let us watch it, but I didn’t go in the ocean for the rest of the trip. Even now I hear the theme song in my head when I swim in water that’s past my waist.”

She laughs, and I get a pleasant fluttering sensation in my chest. I want to make her laugh as often as possible.

“Tell me another thing that scares you.”

“I get it. I’m here for your amusement.” I narrow my eyes and press my lips together. “Demons scare the shit out of me.”

“Demons aren’t real,” she replies.

“How do you know for sure?” I ask, raising my hands palm up.

“Because no one’s ever seen one.”

“I beg to differ. I bet if we Googled it, we’d find plenty of people who said they’ve seen one.”

“Yeah, but they’d all be crazy.”

“Maybe they’re just labelled crazy because science can’t explain it. I’ve had nightmares about demons crawling all over me. When I wake up from one, I’d swear it was real. I felt their sharp claws poking into me.”

“Nightmares are often like that. They’re more real than regular dreams.”

“Okay, your turn. What are you afraid of?”

She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “I’m scared of slugs.”

“Slugs? Snail like creatures?” I ask, for clarification purposes.

“Mhm.” She shivers in revulsion.

“What scares you about them?”

“They’re just so repulsive. Their slimy bodies make me want to vomit. They’re like giant phlegm balls.” She squeezes her eyes shut, shuddering.

I smile as I watch her. I can’t help my reaction. She’s just so damn cute.

Her eyes open and she catches my expression. “Are you laughing at me?” she questions, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not a chance.”

An announcement cuts in, interrupting our conversation. We’ll be approaching John F Kennedy International airport soon. This short flight has passed way too quickly. I’m not ready to be done spending time with her.

* * *

“Which bag is yours?” I ask as we stand side by side at the baggage claim.

“That one.” When she points to a bright pink suitcase, I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.

“Wow, you really like pink, huh?”

She chews on her lower lip. “I hate it.”

“You hate it?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Mhm.” She pushes her hands into her back pockets and we both watch as her obnoxious pink bag moves closer.

Snatching it off the conveyer belt, I set it down on the floor beside me. Throwing the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder, I reach down and grip the handle of her suitcase. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Gesturing with my head for her to follow me, I start to move toward the main exit. We walk in silence. Me pulling her pink shiny suitcase along and her with the smaller carryon she had on the plane.

My head flicks in her direction when she giggles. “What’s so funny?”

“You with my suitcase.”

If it makes her smile, I’d carry a pink bag every day. “Hey, I’m confident in my masculinity. I totally rock pink,” I say, casually with a shrug. “I look so cool, it might even start a new trend.”

“Mhm, you keep telling yourself that,” she replies looking more than a little skeptical.

Once we step outside, we move toward the edge of the curb to flag down a taxi. One pulls over almost immediately and I tell him the address of our hotel. We load the trunk with our bags and slide inside the back doors. The interior of the vehicle smells like stale sweat. Carter wrinkles her nose and we both roll down our windows at the same time. Once the fresh air circulates it helps to make the odor less noticeable and we both relax back in our seats.

Pulling my cellphone out, I check to see how far away the hotel we’re staying at is. It’s only seventeen miles from the airport and if we can avoid traffic we should be there soon.

“So, I’m curious about something,” I say, turning to face her.

“What’s that?” She clasps her hands in her lap.

“If you hate pink, why do you wear so much of it?”

She presses her lips together as if she doesn’t want to answer and for a moment I wonder if she will. Her eyes trek nervously around the interior of the car, bouncing off things until they finally settle on her clasped hands. “I hate pink because it reminds me of who I used to be.”

I wait for her to clarify or reveal more, but she stays silent.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

She exhales with a large sigh. “I never used to wear pink. I used to wear whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what I liked, and it became all about appearances and pleasing other people. Now I have more pink than I know what to do with.” She shrugs.

Her answer is somewhat vague, but I’m not going to push for more currently. I should tread carefully and be patient if I want to get to know her better. And I do.

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’ve looked beautiful every time I’ve seen you.”

“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s true. One thing you’ll learn about me, I like to be blunt. It’s so much easier.”

“Blunt can be good. Unless it’s your fiancé telling you, they’re having a baby with one of your best friends. Then blunt is not the best option.”

Damn. Is this the baggage she’s dealing with?

“Yeah I can see where that would be problematic.” I want to ask her if that happened to her, but we’re just starting to get to know each other. There will be time for asking questions later.

When our taxi pulls up in front of the hotel, Carter practically leaps out of the door. She gets waylaid waiting for the driver to open the trunk and remove her bags. I think she’s embarrassed at what she revealed about her ex. She shouldn’t be. He’s obviously an idiot if he screwed around on her. As the saying goes, one man’s loss is another man’s gain.

Gripping the handle on her suitcase before she can, I slide the strap of my bag on my shoulder and gesture for her to proceed. Watching her walk in front of me is the most fascinating thing I’ve seen in a long time. Her curves are subtle, but mesmerizing.

I’m smart enough to recognize Carter’s worth goes far beyond her natural beauty. Her quick wit is a sign of her intelligence and our verbal dueling excites me in a way I haven’t been before.

I’ve never met a girl who’s grabbed my interest so completely from day one. Not only grabbed it, but kept it. In the past, I’ve had a short attention span when it comes to women. They come to me easy and once I have them, I lose interest. This certainly isn’t the case with Carter. She’s like some super drug that hits all the receptors in my brain leaving me with a sense of euphoria. Being near her calms me and revs me up at the same time. I have no intention of letting her slip through my fingers. The next five days are all about wearing down her defenses and making her realize how much she likes me. I’m up for the challenge.