When we finally get back to Carter’s apartment, it’s past one a.m., and the snow is still falling down over the city. From the view up on Carter’s forty-forth floor penthouse, the city lights, skyscrapers, and falling white flakes create this magical glow.

“Damn. What an end to a long day,” Carter says.

“Lucky kid,” I add.

“Great parents,” Carter agrees.

“And a great uncle.”

“I’m going to try.”

Carter leans back against the kitchen island, putting his hands against it.

The same island he fucked me on last summer, then told me he didn’t want a relationship.

“I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I could sleep right now,” Carter says innocuously, getting a bag of Doritos from his cabinet.

“I know. I feel like I’ve lived like three lives today.”

“Costa Rica to the airport to the hospital. Chip?” he opens the bag.

“Yes please,” I say, reaching my hand in, grabbing a chip, and popping it into my mouth.

“I don’t think I could fall asleep right now even if I wanted to,” I say, before crunching on the chip.

“Same. I’m wired.”

Just then, Carter smirks a little. “Have you seen the new Game of Thrones?”

I shake my head. “That’s what you’re in the mood for?”

He bobs his head toward the outside window. “Maybe it’s all this snow that’s got me thinking ‘winter is coming,’ or something.”

I laugh, and without thinking run my hand down his chest…and abs.

He stares at my hand. “Oh. Are we...doing that, again? I thought we were fighting.”

“Sorry. I just like doing that. Your chest is really touchable.” I swallow, bringing my eyes up to his. “It was really cute seeing you with Amy and on the phone with Chandler.”

Carter shrugs. “He’s my brother. Of course I’d be there for him. I’m really glad you were here for everything, too.”

I clear my throat, and find myself trying not to stare at Carter, but staring at him anyway. His thickening five o’clock shadow. The way his face is perfectly symmetrical.

Dammit.

How quickly I fall into his gravitational pull. Not until I get out of his orbit for a few days and can think things over. I know how good his lips can make me feel.

They can do bad, bad things.

“So let’s put on our PJs and watch Game of Thrones,” I say.

“Deal.” Carter nods, then brings my suitcase to the guest room.

When I come back out to the dining room in flannel PJs and a tank top. Carter’s already sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out on top of the coffee table. He’s got red and black flannel PJs and a hoodie on, a glass of wine in his hand, and there’s a big open bottle of red wine on the coffee table as well.

He presses play right as I sit down, and the Game of Thrones theme song kicks in. Carter sings along, loudly, and with a smile on his face hands me my own glass of red wine.

“Here you go, Laces.”

I giggle, biting the inside of my cheek and taking the glass of wine in my hand.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, wrinkling his forehead.

“You. The wine. Everything.”

“What’s funny about it?”

I shrug. “This is the most…’couply’ I’ve felt with you, ever. Last summer, we never had a ‘Game of Thrones and chill’ night. Not once.”

Carter looks at me and smiles. “Show is starting,” he says, cocking his head toward the television. “Chandler says Aria is a badass in this season.”

I giggle a little thinking about Chandler and Carter chatting about Game of Thrones, and then settle back into the couch, taking a nice long pull of my wine.

I stare at the screen, but I can’t concentrate on the show for the life of me.

I’m in high school again. I’m a junior and Chandler’s a senior. We’re at his place after one of his basketball games.

My heart is hammering like a bass drum in a middle school performance: it’s loud, clumsy, and not necessarily in time with the beat of the music.

Out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be too obvious, I stare at Carter.

His forearms are massive with veins visible. I started dating him in high school just when he was starting to come out of his slightly ‘lanky’ phase, and build enough muscle so that his body was proportionate.

I’d been on the lankier side too, growing up. Although I obviously wasn’t as tall as Carter.

Without looking at me, Carter hands me the bag of open Doritos. I take a couple and eat them.

I notice there’s this invisible wall between us as we sit on the couch. Our bodies are separated by maybe a fist’s width, but it’s as though Carter’s gravity is pulling me toward him.

Concentrating on the show for about five minutes, when I look up again I notice we are half a fist’s width from each other. Our bodies are so close I can feel the heat emanating from Carter’s thighs.

He notices my wine is almost out, and grabs the bottle to refill me.

I stare at the wine glass while he pours, and my eyes find their way to his.

His gaze locks on mine for a few seconds, and a warm tingle runs through my whole body.

The narrowed slits of his eyes send a chill through me.

“You cold?” he asks.

“A little.”

“Here.” Unzipping his hoodie, he hands it to me. “Put this on.”

“That’s okay. I’m fine,” I say, refusing it.

“Liar. Your shoulder has goosebumps.” He points to my bare right shoulder.

“Okay, fine.” I say, setting my wine glass down and putting it on.

“Good. I don’t like seeing you cold,” he says.

I lean toward the coffee table to pick my wine glass up, and when I lean back on the couch, I notice our legs are touching, the invisible wall that we’d put up between us now destroyed.

The rhythm of my heart ratchets up a notch.

Carter’s eyes stay on the television, but his hand slides down and massages my inner thigh.

A warm lump of piping hot desire forms in my throat and washes over my entire body as I feel his nimble fingers on me, starting at my knee and slowly rubbing up to my mid thigh.

“Carter,” I whisper ever so softly, not wanting him to stop, but needing him to stop.

I clear my throat, and speak louder this time. “Carter.”

“Yeah?” He looks at me, and then at his arm, and hand, which is dangerously close to between my legs. “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m serious. Here, move over a little bit.”

Scooching my body away from him and toward the other side of the couch, I turn and put my legs on top of his lap.

“I’ll allow you to touch me from the knee down. Anything above the knee, however, is the no-go zone.”

He chuckles. “Alright.”

We watch to the end of the episode, and Carter uses the remote to click the next episode. “One more?”

I nod. “Well yeah, I need to find out what happens now.”

When the episode starts out, two of the characters are talking about betrayal and if they can forgive the woman’s past.

Carter and I are both riveted. His big hands start to run over my calves and feet, and it feels heavenly.

I let out a deep sigh. “Mmm, Carter.”

He looks down at his hands, and his eyes widen. “Fuck. I’m sorry Lacy, I keep doing it. It’s like my hands have a mind of their own.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “You’re keeping them below the knee. Hey, can you pass me that blanket behind you?”

He tosses me the Chicago Wolverines black and yellow blanket behind him. I drape it over my legs.

Carter’s hands, the wine, and the nice warm cocoon of the blanket lull me into a state of total bliss. A serene smile comes over me, and I let out a giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” I run my hand over his shoulder. “What else do your hands want to do?”

“Be careful what you ask for,” he says, running his hand up past my knee, all the way to almost my ass. “You might not like it.”

“Carter,” I breathe.

He pauses, and slides his hand back down toward my feet.

Just then, a bodice is ripped on the show and a rather graphic sex scene ensues.

We both stare at the screen, captivated.

As if I wasn’t already warmed up enough with my legs on top of Carter.

He brings his hands around to the top of the blanket, then pours wine into both of our glasses, finishing off the bottle.

I feel the heat rush between my legs. I told myself I need to get back to New York to think things through before we move forward.

But that doesn’t change how badly I want him right now.

As inconspicuously as possible, with my non-wine hand, I reach down between my legs, under my panties.

As slowly as I can muster, I finger my clit, letting the waves of pleasure wash over me.

This is very wrong—and I love how wrong it is.

I bite my lower lip and control my breath, keeping it steady, not wanting Carter to know what I’m doing underneath the covers.

Just then, he shifts his body a little, and I feel something hard that isn’t his leg...or his hand.

“Careful,” Carter says, his voice gravelly. He turns his head, and looks awfully hot in the glow of the television.

I hold my arm as still as a statue, nonchalantly sipping my wine and staring at him.

“Looks like someone’s getting excited,” I say.

“Yeah, well, what can I say. Sex on TV, and I’m sitting next to you.” Carter narrows his eyes on me, shifts his body once more, and I feel his cock again, with my leg. “You’re telling me you’re not turned on right now?”

“No,” I shake my head, staring at the TV, sipping my wine, and slowly but inconspicuously pulling my hand out from under my panties, glad the cover is still holding on top of them.

Carter narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? Not after everything we’ve been through.”

The little smile disappears from my face, and I meet Carter’s gaze.

“Never,” I whisper, my hand shaky.

His eyes widen, and he leans toward me.

What he does next is so animalistic, so crazy, I never even saw it coming.

He sniffs my hand.

“Liar,” he growls. “Such a dirty little liar.”

My heart swirls with all the mixed emotions I’ve felt for him over the past few days. Weeks. Years.

“Fine. You caught me,” I whisper, finishing the last of my wine. I bite my lip, and say in my best naughty, caught-in-the-act voice: “So what are you going to do about it?”

Carter leans in. “We both want to do this so bad. But I can sense you’re hesitant. And I don’t think we should do anything until that hesitation is gone.”

Reality cuts through my buzz. “Are you serious?”

Carter runs a hand through his hair and stands up.

“Yes, I’m serious.”

“I’m telling you, I want to do this,” I reiterate.

“I do, too. But not after a stressful day and a bottle of wine.”

A weird sort of panic sets into me. I’ve never known Carter to be this under control when it comes to me...and sex.

“Where are you getting this new found willpower?” I ask.

Carter shrugs and swallows. “I don’t know. Maybe the night. Maybe seeing Chandler have a baby...I want many more nights with you. So tonight seems insignificant in the scheme of things.”

“Wow,” I nod.

Carter leans down and kisses me. “Good night. I’m heading to bed.”

I’m dumbfounded as I watch him walk away.