Page 20 of Blind Date with a #Doctor
Just warm. Safe. Content. Because Carter is wrapped around me, his arm draped heavy and possessive over my waist, his breath slow and steady against the back of my neck. And God help me, I love it.
I let my eyes drift open, taking in the dim light filtering through his curtains, the scent of fresh sheets, warm skin, and him. Memories from last night flash through my mind, and my body reacts immediately. The way he looked at me when I stepped into his house. The way he touched me like he was memorizing every inch of me. The way he whispered my name, right before I fell apart beneath him.
I sigh, shifting slightly, and Carter stirs behind me, his grip tightening. His lips brush the top of my shoulder, and his voice comes out rough and sleepy.
“Stay.”
A single word, but damn if it doesn’t send a shiver through me.
I twist in his arms just enough to face him, my body still tangled with his, and when I meet his sleepy, half-lidded gaze, my stomach flips.
“Am I a hostage?” I tease, voice still thick with sleep.
Carter grins, slow and lazy, his fingers tracing light circles along my hip.
“Maybe.”
His eyes drift lower, taking in my bare shoulders, the sheet barely clinging to my body and suddenly, I’m very aware of how naked I still am.
His grin turns wicked. “Although, I guess I’d be a pretty bad captor if I let you steal one of my shirts.”
I arch a brow. “Am I stealing it? Or are you giving it to me?”
He hums, rolling onto his back, stretching like a man with no worries in the world.
“Wear whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice still gravelly from sleep.
And Jesus, that should not be as sexy as it is.
I reach for the nearest shirt I can find—a soft, well-worn Henley from the floor—and tug it over my head. It smells like him and feels too big and perfect all at once.
When Carter sits up, eyes darkening as he watches me adjust the hem, I pretend not to notice. Even though my skin is burning under his gaze.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in Carter’s kitchen, barefoot in his shirt, stealing his coffee.
Carter is slow in the morning. I like knowing this about him. I, however, wake up ready to tackle the day.
“You could’ve waited,” he grumbles, standing behind me, shirtless, as I take another sip of his perfectly made coffee.
I grin. “You could’ve gotten up faster.”
“I was working on it,” he mutters, pressing a hand to my hip as he reaches around me to grab another mug. I don’t miss theway his fingers linger. The way his palm flexes, like he’s fighting the urge to pull me back against him.
Carter leans against the counter, watching me over his mug. “You’re thinking too hard.”
I blink. “What?”
He smirks. “You get this look when you’re overanalyzing something. I recognize it from bowling night, right before you lost.”
I scoff. “I let you win.”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes, hiding a smile behind my coffee cup.
He watches me for a second longer, expression shifting slightly. Then says casually, “Come to a barbecue with me tomorrow.”
I blink. “A barbecue?”
