Tori
WE WON’T BE working together anymore? Shit. What do I say now? “Is that true?” is all I manage to say in response.
“It is. Julian called me about the change less than an hour ago. So as much as I’d love to keep working with you”—he stands and lifts his T-shirt to show me his flat abs—“this is as good as it gets.”
Oh, it’s good all right. Like lick-the-contours-and-suck-on-his-skin good. Still. “I’ll work with you until your audition. Another few days can make a world of difference.”
“I can continue to work out on my own in that time.” He waggles his eyebrows. “And keep those few days open for more interesting activities.”
I huff at him. “Carter, this isn’t funny and doesn’t solve anything.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, it solves everything. You claim a relationship with a client is inappropriate.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “It is.”
He tilts his head and regards me with a suggestive grin. “So now I don’t have to be your client.” He pretends to dust off his hands. “Done. Problem solved. And before you get upset about it, consider this. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do within the time frame I’ve been given. Ending our business relationship now only means we can enjoy each other the way we both want to. Do with me what you will. You have my permission. This should be good news . . . unless being my trainer never was the reason you didn’t want to be with me.”
Balling my hands into fists, I jump up from the sofa and push him out of my way. “This conversation is ridiculous.”
“I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous,” he says behind me.
Whirling around to face him, I am momentarily stunned by the view that greets me. His inky-black hair is in disarray, a victim of his fingers. The effect is so compelling I want to be their accomplice. With his hands jammed into the pockets of the jeans that hang loosely from his trim hips, he tries to exude an easy confidence, but his ice-blue eyes are trained on my face with an intensity that matches the tension in the room.
“I know you want me as much as I want you,” he continues. “But you refuse to take the leap.”
I throw up my hands. “Yes, I refuse to take the leap, because I don’t know what this is. Where should I jump exactly? And how high? Are we jumping into bed, or into something else? You’re an actor, Carter. You live in California. And you have a life that’s incompatible with mine.”
He tilts his head, and his tight expression relaxes. “You’re scared.”
Well, duh. “Hell, yes, I’m scared.”
“Would it help if I told you I’m scared, too?”
My mouth hangs open. “You are?”
He nods and removes his hands from his pockets. “For as long as I can remember, acting has been my life. It’s consumed my time, my attention. It’s made me who I am. Other than my family and Julian, I don’t open myself to anyone. I’m scared because how I feel about acting pales in comparison to how I feel about you.”
I can’t control the gasp that escapes my mouth. “Carter,” is all I say.
“I’m not going to pretend it’ll be easy. Hell, I don’t even know the questions, let alone the answers. But we can figure it out together.” He steps closer. “I’m not playing games, Tori, and in my mind, this isn’t temporary. If you want me, you have me.”
If I take this step with Carter, I’m opening myself up to so much more than even I can imagine. But God, I want to. I’d like to tell him that his feelings are reciprocated, but the words never come. They’re lodged in my throat, refusing to leave the comfort of being inside me. I do know how to show him my affection, however, so I lunge at him and cover his mouth with mine.
Yes, I know. Very subtle.
Carter chuckles against my lips and deepens the kiss.
After I’ve sufficiently reacquainted myself with his mouth, I draw back. “I took a leap, because I want to be with you, too.”
He cups my cheek and ghosts his thumb across my bottom lip, after which he straightens and rubs his hands together. “So what would you like to do next? Watch a movie? I could throw some popcorn in the microwave.”
The change in his demeanor causes me to blink furiously. “What?”
“We should take this slow, right? Get comfortable with the idea of being together, huh?”
He flashes me a smile.
I shake my head in response. “Cute.”
He walks backward, removing his T-shirt and tossing it at my feet. “Or I could give you a tour of my bedroom.”
I scan him from the top of his silky hair to the toes that peek out from the hem of his jeans. This is going to be so good. Screw my bones, I can feel it in my lady bits. So I follow him like a panting puppy begging for a treat. Yes, yes. Kibbles and dicks! Kibbles and dicks! And because I’m an excellent facilitator, I raise the hem of my dress and pull it off, my gaze never leaving his.
Carter stumbles. “You can’t take off your clothes without warning me. It’s dangerous.”
“I’ll bear that in mind for the future,” I say with a wink.
Before we cross his bedroom’s threshold, he stops me with a raised hand. “Hang on. I need a minute to soak this in. You in a bra, panties, and Chuck Taylors. Fuck me, that’s hot.”
“I’m even hotter with absolutely nothing on.”
He drags me inside and palms my ass to draw me to him. His chin makes a new home in the crook of my neck, while my hands make quick work of the top button and zipper of his jeans. Out of the corner of my eye, I note there’s a view. I won’t be paying attention to it anytime soon, though. Instead, I delve inside his pants, my hand seeking his erection, and he hisses when I cup him.
“Tori, I want to do this right,” he whispers against my ear.
“I don’t want this to be right, Carter. I want it to be all kinds of wrong. Show me what you’ve been holding back this whole time.”
Swallowing hard, he leans back. His chest is heaving, and goodness, his pupils are dilated to three times their normal size. Not even the adrenaline generated by our training sessions brought Carter to this state.
He circles me and presses a kiss at the nape of my neck. I shiver at the brief contact, wanting much more. His fingers are hot against my skin when he unsnaps my bra. With the lacy material discarded at my feet, he reaches around and cups my breasts, alternating between massaging them and tweaking my nipples. As he caresses me, he grinds his sex against my backside, and there’s no mistaking his thickness.
Content to temporarily play his trusty assistant, I toe off my sneakers and reach for the side strings of my bikini underwear.
Carter swats my hands away and growls against my ear. “Leave that to me.”
The front of his body is flush with the back of mine. In that position, he walks me to the wall and slides my hands up and over my head. I register the rustling behind me and gasp when his lips meet the small of my back. Then his hands glide over my ass before he tugs my panties down my legs. I step out of them, and Carter places his hands on my waist, spinning me to face him. I look down, and my heart races. He’s on his knees at my feet and licking his lips in anticipation.
He taps my thigh. “Put your leg over my shoulder.”
Oh. My. God. He expects me to stand against the wall? I will crumple into an embarrassing heap at his feet. He swipes a finger against me, groaning as he tests my wetness. My knees buckle. “Yes, Carter, yes. Please put your mouth on me.”
His fingers massage my folds, and then his tongue flicks against my clit.
I shift against his mouth, chasing his tongue, needing more, but he doesn’t suck on me the way I want him to, and I bang my hand against the wall because I’m going to die if he doesn’t give me what I need.
“Is this what you want?” he asks before he lays his tongue flat against me and slides up to my nub.
Pleasure courses through me like a never-ending circuit of sexual energy, and I don’t ever want it to stop. “Yes, yes, fuck, Carter, yes, more.”
He pulls back and places a finger against my clit, teasing it. “There it is. So fucking pretty, Tori. I’ve been dreaming about having this in my mouth.” He licks his lips. “Soon you’ll be all over my face.”
Oh God. My clit pulses with each flick of his finger, and my stomach tightens in response to the onslaught. “Please, Carter,” I say in a pained voice.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he says.
And then he draws my clit into his mouth, sucking it softly and then more aggressively, until my legs shake from the pressure of holding myself up while he ravishes me. But it’s not enough. Somehow, he senses I need more, and he slides two fingers in and out of me while he laps at me with long, strong strokes.
I don’t recognize my voice or the sounds coming out of my mouth. Some of the words are intelligible, but mostly I’m moaning, and wailing, and hissing. And it feels so good I want to shout.
“Carter, I . . . I need to ride you. Right now.”
He looks up at me, the hunger in his gaze pinning me to the spot. “Baby, you can have anything you want.”
I’m not hiding from this anymore: This is happening.