Page 42 of Leah

“You want me to be here, don’t lie.”

My laughter died.

He may have appeared like he was joking, but I saw a look of seriousness wash over his features, making his smile waver. Barely moving, we breathed each other in for a short while.

“You’re bad news,” I muttered to him.

He stared about my face, settling on my mouth. “You like that.”

I felt a stir at the very bottom of my stomach; like a tiny flame growing into a fireball, it intensified.

I knew the damn feeling well.

Desire.

Leave it to Carter to make me feel things I hadn’t felt in forever after seeing him for a few measly hours.

“I don’t,” I then denied, but it was obviously a lie. I didn’t even try to fake it.

“Why do you smell like alcohol?” he then asked, wrinkling his nose.

I looked behind him, and he followed my gaze to the night table. Still wrapping his arm around me, he shuffled over and grabbed it. He inspected the bottle, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Grey Goose,” he read. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Why the fuck are you drinking Grey Goose straight from the bottle all by yourself, Leah? Are you some alcoholic now?”

I giggled again. Fucking giggles. “No. I just… needed something strong to shut my brain up.”

He eyed me curiously, his mouth twitching upward. “What’s your brain rattling on about?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, Carter. You already know.”

He stared at me for a moment, and then he nodded. Surprisingly, he took a quick gulp of the vodka and pounded it on the night table. In the dark, I watched his tongue flick out, trailing his bottom lip. “Very nice, that.”

“It’s smooth,” my tipsy ass added. “And creamy.”

“Creamy, huh?” He held me captive with his gaze, and I felt it all the way down to my bones. I could feel that desire in my centre throbbing now. I wanted to nuke it.

He let go of me then, and I was a little disappointed the moment was over, as he helped me back to my feet. Grabbing the screen, he leaned it against the wall. “I’ll fix it in the morning,” he told me, shutting the window until it was only a few inches open.

Silence started to creep up on us again, and I wanted to nuke that bitch to smithereens too.

“What are you doing here, Carter?” I asked, studying him closely.

“Going down memory lane,” he answered, kicking his shoes off. “And that entails hanging out in your bed like we used to. With a bottle of Grey Goose, to boot.”

I raised a brow, looking sceptical. “We hung out inyourbed, Carter, not mine, and we never drank Vodka in it.”

“Yeah, well, my bed is in LA, and since we’re here, I gotta improvise. Plus, your brain’s rattling on, so the bottle should help.” Grabbing the bottle, he took another mouthful and proclaimed, “To new traditions.”

Then he set it down, moved to my bed and shoved aside the thin blanket before collapsing into it. I couldn’t stifle my laugh as he groaned with comfort and patted the space beside him, waiting for me.

“Come on,” he welcomed me in. “Come lay in my love nest.”

“Your love nest,” I repeated on a gasp.

“Well, it can beourlove nest if you want it to.” He winked, chuckling as I looked down at my feet, fighting that damn blush. “Come on. Do I have to sing like before?”

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