“Your declaration of remorse would be a lot more convincing if you weren’t laughing as you said it.”
“Well in my defense, you can be a buttface sometimes.” My laugh is cut off this time when Carter’s firm hands grip my hips and pull me down to him. I end up on his lap as he guides me to straddle him while his fingers twine into the hair at the nape of my neck. Gripping my hair lightly, he crashes his mouth to mine, devouring me in a kiss that causes every sensible thought I’ve ever had to leave my mind.
Gripping his shoulders, I cling to him as his hands slip under my shirt, gliding up the bare skin of my back as he presses me closer to him. And I want to feel more of him, which somehow snaps me out of the lusty fog. I pull back, ending the kiss but taking a moment before opening my eyes to look at him. When I do, need is apparent in his eyes, and I wonder if he sees it in mine as well. Gently tucking my hair behind my ear with his big strong hand, I know he understands I need to slow it down. It’s too much too fast. He’s too much.
His palm cups my cheek, his thumb strokes my skin delicately, and he leans forward, feathering a tender kiss on my lips before shifting back. Without a word, I stand, grabbing the cotton ball and swabbing the ink off his skin. My cheeks flush under his heated gaze; I’m more than aware of how he’s watching me.
I move away, feeling exposed, like he’s looking straight through me. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. I toss the cotton in the trash and turn to walk out of the bathroom. “All done.”
His hand lightly grips my arm, and I turn back to him. In a surprisingly strained tone, he says, “Are we okay, Avery?”
“Yes, we’re good. But we really should get back to the store. It’s almost time for the signing to start.” I walk out of the house as he quietly follows behind me. I’m internally wigging out, and somehow, I think he knows it, but is giving me room to handle it. It was just a stupid kiss, so there’s no point in making a big deal out of it. It’s not a big deal. Ugh, why does that bother me?
Glancing toward the store, I see the crowd already gathering to meet the famous Carter Barlowe. Remember the real reason he’s here right now, Avery. No matter his intentions, this will be a great thing for my parents. “Wow. I don’t think the parking lot has ever been this packed before.”
“Avery,” Carter says, as I turn a forced smile on him. “Do you want to grab some supper after the crowd clears out?”
“That’ll probably be awhile from the looks of it,” I deflect with a smile, but he won’t let me off that easy.
“Joe will have everyone in and out in a timely and orderly fashion, like he always does at these things. And if you’re done running away from me, I’d love to grab a bite to eat.”
He just called me out, and all I can think is he really can be a buttface sometimes, but so can I. There’s no good reason for me to question his motives, but I still am. Stopping, I turn to face him. “Why? Why me? Is it all about the challenge, Carter? Because if it is, you have to know you’ve already accomplished your goal.”
His sexy grin pisses me off as he tilts his head, looking to the ground.
As I turn to hurry away, he wraps an arm around my lower back, his lips near mine. I think he’s going to kiss me again but instead says, “You asked a question that I’d really like to answer. Avery,”—he says my name almost reverently and I see something in his eyes; something profound in its truth and honesty—“you’re so much more than a challenge. When I realized that you hate baseball, that you couldn’t give two shits who Carter or Cash Barlowe are, I knew if you ever wanted me, it’d be solely for me. Nothing else. No hidden agenda. No secret motives.” With that, he tenderly feathers a kiss over my lips. “Just me for me.”
The fact that Carter lives his life questioning people’s intentions on the daily makes me understand him in a whole new way. He has his own reasons to worry about being someone else’s conquest—it’s different for him but no less hurtful. That something in his deep-brown eyes moves me. Convinces me in its sincerity that he’s not bullshitting me in the least. These are not lines he’d say to any random fame chaser looking to hook up. Of that, I’m sure. “You’re still a buttface.”
He laughs at my jab, intertwining his fingers in mine. “Then have supper with me so I can make it up to you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
But we both know the answer already.