The sweep of Carter's fingers along the side of my neck, the brush of his thumb across my cheekbone, and the press of his chest against mine is dizzying. The green of his eyes darkens in lust, in desire, in a want so powerful, it pulls me under, pulls me into him like a tidal wave. And in this moment, I'd rather drown than be saved.

His lips devour mine, the pressure from his mouth morphing from sweet to spicy by the time my eyes close. I lean into him, dissolving under his touch as he pulls me closer. I fall forward as he sits on the edge of the bed, and I pin him down beneath me, crawling over him, one hand raking through his hair, the other clutching the collar of his shirt. Straddling him, I struggle to calm my racing heart, knowing this could end as fast as it started if I show any sign of nerves.

Carter's hands find my hips and grip me hard, tugging me forward so I fall against his chest. Kissing him is like being swept up in a tornado. It's powerful and all-consuming and intense. It's more than everything I always dreamed of, longed for. He's everything at once. His touch brands my hips, his mouth marks my lips, and I know in my heart of hearts that I'll be ruined for any man that comes after him.

I wish like hell that there won't be any.

That Carter Kane will be my first and last everything.

That getting lost amid the sheets and pillows with him will be more than just sex, more than just the physicality and need for release. That he will be more.

And he is.

As his hands start a slow, languid trek up my ribs, my camisole slides up with each movement of his fingers, and he slows his pace. His kisses grow deeper, his touch intimate, his breath hitching in the back of his throat.

My eyes flutter open and latch onto his. He pulls back slowly, offering me a sweet smile I've never seen cross his face before.

"Taylor."

"Carter." I wiggle against him, bracing my palm against his chest to pull back farther to read his eyes.

"I don't want to rush this."

"Okay."

"It's too easy to just get caught up in the moment."

I nod, my mind already free-falling as his hands rest on my thighs, his thumb stroking my skin.

"There will be lots of time for that later."

"Later?"

"Mm-hmm." He slows his touch to a pace that's pure torture, and a shudder runs down my spine.

"'Kay."

"Let me take my time with you." His voice is low, husky.

Before I can react, he's flipped me over so I'm lying on the bed, his strong body hovering over me. His eyes are filled with longing and brimming with a seriousness that outshines the playfulness I'm accustomed to reading in them.

My camisole has ridden up to just below my breasts, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight as the cool air hits the sensitive skin around my scar. It's uneven and ugly, and it mars me in a way I never realized I would care so much about.

Carter's eyes soften as he gazes at my abdomen. He dips his head, the muscles of his shoulder bunching, and presses the softest kiss at the top of my scar. Peppering my skin with sweet kisses, he works downward, inching lower and lower, until he finds the sweetest spot of all.

And he doesn't stop until I feel thoroughly worshipped.

We made love. It wasn't just sex. It was more. It was everything. It was exactly as I hoped for, more than I dreamed of. We shared and exchanged and at the end, when we were standing at the precipice, both of our bodies at the height before pleasure imploded, we fell into each other in a moment that was beautiful in its purity.

It was perfect.

Lying in bed, sated and happy, a goofy grin crosses my face. Wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and a perimeter of pillows, Carter and I lay with our legs tangled up, my head resting on his bicep as his arm curls behind his head.

"That was—"

"Amazing," he supplies.

I turn into him and place a kiss on his chest. "Better than that."

He angles his body toward mine, and I slide into the space he shifted away from. His fingers reach up to tug on some errant strands of hair as he brushes fly away strands from my face, tucking them under my shoulder.

"You're too good for me," he says finally.

"That's not true."

He flips a quick grin, but it's sad and bittersweet, lacking his usual charm. "It is. And you can't be like the characters in a Fitzgerald novel, living in the past. You have too much greatness ahead of you. Your future is too full to stay, kicking it around here, with a guy like me."

"My future wants you in it."

He shakes his head sadly, a small grin still shadowing his lips as he leans down and kisses me softly. "I'm going to jump in the shower. After that, you hungry?"

My stomach chooses this moment to howl and we both laugh, Carter’s fingers tickling just above my belly button. "I'll take that as a yes," he quips over his shoulder on his way to the bathroom.

The door closes behind him, and I snuggle deeper under the comforter, letting the pillows box me in. Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander and drift, remembering Carter's touch, the seriousness of his gaze, and the heat of his mouth against my skin. Everything seems different now. Better. Brighter.

The chime of a text message catches my attention, and I glance toward the bedside table where Carter's phone rests, the screen lighting up with the incoming message.

I close my eyes again.

Chime.

Chime.

Chime.

The messages come through at a rapid pace. The water from the shower falls, the sound soft in the bedroom. What if it's an emergency? What if something is wrong, and it's his sister or one of his brothers trying to reach him?

I'll just take him his phone.

I crawl onto my knees and reach over to the bedside table to swipe his phone when the screen lights up, and the sight of my name causes me to stall.

Texas: Griller thinks you’re an idiot. Giving up security for Taylor Clarke?

Texas: She’s going to fucking hate you when she learns the truth.

Texas: Does she know your role in her daddy’s gambling addiction?

Texas: The money isn’t going to be able to save your relationship so why take the risk?

What the hell?

I sit frozen, my mouth a gaping hole as I re-read the messages.

Carter knew about Daddy’s gambling? Carter had a role in it?

This must be some sick joke. Some weird prank. I need to talk to Carter. He'll be able to explain everything to me, to make sense of this.

Coldness drips through my veins, spreading as my confusion slowly turns to dread. He used me. Just like every man I know, just like Barrington, he used me for some ulterior motive, for a desired outcome. I was just a pawn to him, being pushed around a board in a game I didn't know I was playing.

Why did he seek me out after the accident? To learn more about my family? My dad? To get Daddy to play at some big poker game? Did he tell Daddy we’re friends?

Nothing makes sense.

Tears prick my eyes, but I wipe the back of my arm across them before any can fall. I look down, suddenly mortified at my nakedness when only moments before I felt safe, sexy, cherished. Now, I feel dirty and unwanted, uncared for. Alone. The angry red dashes of my scar flash at me like a warning from my pale skin.

Carter Kane warned me. Repeatedly. That he wasn't good enough, that he didn't deserve me.

I never thought he was telling the truth.

I never realized he would be right.

The running water in the shower turns off abruptly, prompting me out of my frozen state. I jump over the pillows, my foot snagging in a blanket as I fall forward. My forehead grazes the edge of the end table.

Shit.

I stumble to the floor.

Reaching up to touch my forehead, I wince when my fingers make contact and come away with small drops of blood.

"Taylor, you okay?" Carter's voice calls out from the bathroom. His tone is edged in concern that I no longer believe.

Oh no. I need to be dressed. I don't want him to see my like this, bleeding on the floor, naked. I spring into action, tugging on my camisole and the jeans I discarded earlier, my underwear hidden among the tangled sheets of our lovemaking, of a bliss that now mocks me.

"Taylor." Carter opens the door and steps into the bedroom. A white hotel towel is wrapped around his hips. His hair is still wet from the shower, drops of water landing on his shoulders and sliding down his toned chest, disappearing into the crevices of his abs as he moves.

I avert my gaze, staring at the hot pink on my toenails. I can't even look at him. At everything I thought I had but never really did. Of everything I lost. Except how can you lose something you never had?

"You're bleeding." In two strides he's in front of me, bending down. His fingers curl under my chin, lifting my face as he inspects the cut on my forehead. "What happened?"

Oh God. Why is this my life?

"Hey, are you okay?" He shakes my shoulders gently, and I finally stare up, reading the flicker of nerves in his eyes. But I don't see any guilt. Or remorse. Or anything that may make this horrible situation just a tiny bit better.

"I have to go." My voice sounds hoarse and broken.

"Go?"

I nod.

"Did something happen?"

I step around him, grateful that I at least know where my purse is. Pulling it over my shoulder, I turn to face him, and take a deep breath to steady my nerves, to steady myself. "Check your phone."

The blood leaves his face, draining away all the color and charm and easygoing nature of Carter. In its place is pure panic.

"Taylor, wait—" He reaches for me but I step back, my hand on the door lever, pressing down to open it.

"Good luck with whatever the fuck it is you really do, Carter," I say calmly, stepping into the hallway and letting the door close with a soft click.

Then I hustle down the hall, down the stairs, knowing if I stop for the elevator, he'll be dressed and able to catch up to me. I dart around the back of the building, through an alleyway, and around a corner. Ducking into a coffee shop, I pull out my phone and order a car service.

Thank God I moved back into my townhouse and my parents won’t witness my shame. Thank God Daddy won’t see how I allowed myself to fall for the man responsible for his downfall.