Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“I don’t know.” Needing something to focus my attention on, I pick up a pencil from the table and twirl it like a baton with my fingers. “I’m not sure what it means.”
I don’t mention that beneath all my ire for Carter lurks something more. Olivia brought it up a few weeks ago and I immediately shot down her theory, but there was some truth to it. Only now am I coming to terms with it.
How stupid would it be to fall for a guy like Carter?
That was more of a rhetorical question.
As if reading my thoughts, she says, “You’re better off letting it go and pretending it never happened. You two have to live together.”
She gives me a look rife with meaning, one that has the breakfast I wolfed down curdling in my belly.
“And Carter doesn’t date. He,” she glances around and lowers her voice, “hooks up. A lot.”
She’s right. That’s Carter in a nutshell.
One-and-done.
Mr. hit-it-and-quit-it.
The thought of Carter bringing chicks back to the apartment makes me nauseous. Everything I did last night and this morning hits me like a ton of bricks. I fooled around with my cousin’s best friend. And I have no idea what it meant. According to Carter, it didn’t mean anything.
Frustrated with myself for not thinking about the repercussions, I lay my forehead on the table. Once again, I’ve looked without leaping and Olivia wasn’t around to save me from myself.
My bestie reaches over and rubs my shoulder. “Being a virgin doesn’t look so bad now, does it?”
I snort.
She’s got me there.
25
CARTER
I’m on the couch, flipping through sports channels, when Daisy saunters through the apartment door. Every nerve ending in my body goes on high alert. Daisy can be something of a wild card. She always has been.
Is that part of the attraction?
Probably.
After she stroked me to the point of coming and then left me hanging, she hopped in the shower and made herself scarce for the rest of the day. Once she was gone, I took care of business. Which means that I jacked off.
Twice.
I’m in such deep shit.
Here’s what needs to happen—we forget last night ever took place so that our relationship can slide back to the way it was. Hell, us hating each other would be preferable to this, but I don’t think that’s possible.
Daisy and I need to strike a balance. One where she doesn’t despise me and I’m not pushing her buttons, but also where we’re not tearing off each other’s clothes.
Easier said than done. Especially when the taste of her is still so fresh in my mind.
Not to mention, on my lips and tongue.
Did I already mention that I’m in deep shit?
Yup, I’m practically drowning in it and I’m not sure if there’s a damn thing I can do to save myself.
From the corner of my eye, I watch her stroll into the kitchen like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her nonchalant attitude only puts me further on edge because I know exactly what she’s capable of. I’m more than secure enough in my masculinity to admit that she scares the piss out of me. She’d scare anyone with half a brain.
I should say something, right?
But what?
How do I smooth things over between us?
Apologizing again would probably do the trick. You can never go wrong with an apology.
“So, um, do you have a minute to talk?” I ask.
Again, casual as shit, she walks into the living room and takes a seat across from me on the recliner.
“Sure. What’s up?”
This girl is cool, calm, and collected. And it’s totally throwing me off my game. Sweat breaks out across my forehead as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. My hands are clasped tightly in front of me.
We need to hash this out before Noah gets home. If there’s any lingering tension between us, Noah will get suspicious. I’m doing the right thing for both of our sakes. It doesn’t matter if I want Daisy. She’s beyond my reach.
Having a little taste of her last night was a boneheaded move on my part.
Because now I know what I’m missing.
I’ve touched and kissed her. I know what she sounds like when she comes.
Fuck me.
I can’t think about that or we’ll end up where we started with her flat on her back and me between her thighs.
I clear my throat, wanting to get this over with. “I thought we should talk about last night.”
And this morning.
Her expression doesn’t falter. “Last night?”
Not only does she look bored, she sounds it as well. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this disinterest. It’s like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, which is weird. I give her a penetrating look that says come on, drop the bullshit. But all I get in response is the same blank look.