“Well I’m getting a lot of girl credit. So I guess it’s a win-win,”I snap back.
But why does it feel like Carter is definitely coming out on top with this arrangement?
Lance wraps his hand around my waist. Carter’s eyes fall to his hand.
“Anyways . . . Oh, hello. Who’s this?”
Davina walks into the room, wearing a red dress. Carter’s gaze flashes to her.
That same shiver I just felt when I saw Carter across the room comes back. Except ten times worse this time.
Lance must feel my body shake.
Carter says hello to Davina and a minute later, they are heading to the bar together, big smiles on their faces.
“You okay?” Lance asks. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I growl.
“Really?” Joseph asks. “Because the way you’re looking at that blonde right now, I think you might start spewing venom from your eyes.”
I shake my head. “It’s just . . .” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Davina is a lock for New York. And the minute she walks in, Carter is all over her. Why do some girls have all the luck?”
“I think we need to get ourselves a round of drinks,” Joseph says, then hesitates. “Drinks are free, right?”
I nod. “Open bar!”
“Well thank you, Carter,” Joseph adds.
We head over to the bar on the opposite side from Carter and Davina. A few more dancers and ballplayers start to file in.
“Get me a rum and coke with a lime. I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.”
When I come out of the stall, Davina is standing in front of the mirror fixing her hair.
“Hey,” she says with a bubbly smile. “Happy birthday! And wow, your friend Carter is really nice.”
I scoff. “He’s not nice. That’s just a front. He’s a total cocky asshole.”
To my surprise, Davina isn’t deterred. Instead, she actually raises her eyebrows. “Really? I love assholes.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I get bored with nice guys. They’re too . . . nice.”
“Oh,” I say, backpedaling as I wash my hands. “Well he’s not that much of an asshole, actually. But he’s known for being a womanizer. He has a twenty-four hour rule.”
“What’s a twenty-four hour rule?”
“He doesn’t let girls stay at his place for more than twenty-four consecutive hours.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh. Really?”
“Oh yeah.”
Her shoulders drop, and she looks relaxed. She grabs my arm. “That is so refreshing to hear. You know, I have a problem where guys get attached to me. And we’re only here for six more weeks, right? So what’s the point in getting attached? You guys are just friends, right?”
My stomach hardens.
Why does everything I say seem to have the opposite effect of what I intend?
“Yeah,” I swallow. “Just friends.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you so much, Lacy. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes.”
“Oh, and Davina,” I add. “I hate to say it, but he doesn’t like blondes. Prefers brunettes.”
“Well I guess I’ll have to see if I can change his mind then.” With a smile on her face, she walks out of the bathroom.
I facepalm and puff my lips out, exhaling.
“What is the matter with you, Lacy?” I say, staring into the mirror.
13
Carter
I think every single one of my teammates comes up to me and thanks me at some point in the night.
And not like a flaccid shrug of a thank you. Like a ‘holy shit Carter you are the fucking man how did you get all these gorgeous dancers in one place’ hard cock thank you.
And the weather is beautiful. The captain takes us far out onto Lake Michigan, and we all watch the sunset from the deck as it sets over the beautiful empty lake. We get far enough away from the city that we can even see some stars.
All in all, it’s a gorgeous night, except for the fact that I have to watch Lacy parade around with her boyfriend—what was his name again, Luke?—all night. It’s infuriating. And now that we’re out on the lake it doesn’t matter, but I did not give Leotard Man permission to bring a plus one, so I don’t know what this Joseph guy is doing here.
Every time I see Lacy, she shoots me a look of death.
This past week, she constantly avoided me. And I’m not going to lie, I do enjoy watching her parade around my apartment. Whatever she’s wearing is hot, because it’s her. Whether it’s yoga pants, pink booty shorts, or her dance clothes.
But tonight, she’s got this floral dress on that is absolutely stunning.
Davina, her friend, keeps talking to me, and I’m nodding at whatever the fuck she’s saying as I look out into the water, picturing Lacy naked.
Fucking A, how long has it been since I’ve had sex now? A full week? I haven’t even rubbed one out.
“So?”
“So . . .?”
“I was saying, I heard a rumor you’re a player. Is that true?”
“Define ‘player,’” I say.
“A guy who hates women.”
I squint. “Well in that case, yes, I’m a player. I absolutely hate women, except when they’re saying ‘Oh God, oh God, Carter,” I say, imitating a girl’s voice.
“Wow. You really are an asshole,” Davina scoffs. “She was right.”
“Who was right?”
“Your roommate. She warned me about you.”
I grin, always interested to hear what Lacy might be saying about me behind my back. “Well it’s all true. You should probably stay away from me. Glad you got the warning up front,” I wink.
She leans in.
I swirl my vodka soda around. Amy and Chandler approach, breaking up our one-on-one.
Thankfully.
“Carter!” Amy says, running up to me and giving me the best hug I’ve had in some time. After she releases me, she says, “This party is amazing. Everyone is having so much fun. And that’s so cool that Lance brought his boyfriend and they’re chilling with Lacy.”
I cock my head. “Um, excuse me?”
Amy rolls her eyes. “Uh, yeah! Lance and his boyfriend Joseph. I just saw them making out downstairs. Was that not . . . okay?”
Everyone turns to me, probably wondering if I’m some sort of homophobe.
Which is not true at all, by the way. My cousin is gay, and I once literally beat the shit out of a guy who tried to make fun of him.
My mind runs over a montage of the past couple of weeks where Lacy was hanging out with that guy. The screams coming from her room. How his hand was wrapped around her tonight, right in front of Joseph.
I glance at Amy. “Larry—I mean Lance—is gay?”
“Oh yeah,” she says. “One hundred percent.”
“And that’s his boyfriend he’s with? The same guy we saw at yoga?”
Amy nods, seeming confused by my question. “I don’t understand what’s so confusing about this.”
I rake a hand through my hair, fumbling with my thoughts. Maybe he’s bi? That’s the only explanation that comes to my mind. “I need another drink,” I finally say. “I’m heading downstairs.”
I walk quickly, and don’t invite Davina as I stride down the steps, two at a time.
Downstairs, the dance floor is popping off. It’s actually a hilarious scene: a bunch of lanky basketball players and a few others.
I even catch Jake Napleton—one of the few baseball players from Chicago who got the invite—grinding with his wife. Not only does that guy like to play dirty—he also likes dirty dancing, apparently. Good man.
I rub my eyes, then scan the crowd until my eyes land on Lacy.
Boom.
She’s off to the side of the dance floor.
Taking off, I make a beeline for her.
Her eyes widen a little bit when she sees me. “Hey,” she mumbles.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt such an intense focus on h
er. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I growl.
She swallows, and her voice is shaking. “I-I’m not sure.”
I give her an up-and-down. “Come with me.”
A look of fear spreads across her face. “No.”
I take her arm, and whisper in her ear, my voice gravelly. “That wasn’t a fucking question.”
I swear I can feel goosebumps rise up on her bare arm.
“Okay,” she gulps. She follows me, and I don’t think she has a fucking clue what’s about to go down.
But neither do I.
All I know is, this girl has the ability to make me lose control, and we’re reaching a boiling point.
14
Lacy
And my heart swirls as I follow behind Carter as he leads me to God knows where, down some hall in the giant labyrinth of the yacht.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand.
“Somewhere we can talk,” he says.
“Why? We have nothing to talk about,” I seethe.
He stops at a door, and pulls out a set of keys from his tux pocket. “You know, you have a funny way of showing your gratitude for this amazing birthday party.”
I snort. “Fuck you. You only had this party so you could hook your friends up with the dancers. This had nothing to do with me.”
He opens the door and we head inside to a suite. He’s got a full bar, a huge bed, and a balcony overlooking the water at a lower level.
“Holy shit. How’d you get this room?”
He smirks, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “It’s my fucking yacht. Remember?”
“Oh.”
He heads to the bar. “Shot?”
“Please.”
“Whiskey sound good?”
“Perfect.”
Standing behind the bar, he pours the shots.
“Your boyfriend isn’t going to be jealous that you’re doing shots alone with me, is he?”
“No, why would he be?”
He shrugs and hands me a full shot glass. “Just a thought. Cheers. Happy birthday, Laces.”
I shake my head as I take down the shot, the heat of the liquor coating my throat. I let the discomfort throb through me. I’m not sure why Carter has brought me here, but I might as well stop holding back around him. And with how tongue-tied he’s had me lately, the whiskey definitely helps.
“Only you could sound like an asshole while you’re giving me a birthday shot.”
“Is that what I am to you? Just an asshole?”
I nod. “You’ve never given me reason to think you’re anything else.”
“Laces. Do you remember when you were in second grade, and I was in third?”
Liquid heat rushes into every corner of my body. “Why are you bringing this up?”
Coming around the bar, he stands in my personal space. I want so badly to reach out and touch him. But something holds me back. I don’t want to make the first move. If I do, he wins, somehow.
“I taught you how to tie your shoe laces. You were a late learner. All you wanted to do was take off your shoes and dance around at recess. Do you remember that?”
I swallow the knot in my throat, holding back a teary rush of emotion. “Don’t bring that up with me.”
“I always admired your free spirit. Yet with an aura of discipline. I never told you this. But the way you danced constantly—at recess, on the way home, at lunch, sometimes, you didn’t even need music—inspired me to put everything I had into basketball. Looking back, you were the reason I became so obsessed with the sport. You made it okay.”
Blowing out a loud breath, I run my hand down Carter’s ear and cheek. “So why can’t you forgive me?” My heart palpitates as I await his response.
For a split second I see the flash of another man inside Carter’s dark pupils. A man who might have a conscience. Turning his head down, his nostrils flare.
“You lied to me for so long. A full year. How could you look me in the eye every day we saw each other, and not tell me what you knew?”
My whole body tightens. “How can you never forgive me for something I did in high school? My mom told me not to tell you. I was respecting the relationship between you and your mother!” I fire back.
“Don’t bring my mother into this because you can’t admit to yourself how badly you hurt me.”
Tears pool in my eyes. “We both—”
He cuts me off. “You knew my mom had been lying to me. You betrayed the trust of an entire childhood. I considered you one of my best friends. Not to mention the fact that we were fucking dating.”
I wipe away the tears, and feel a calm resolve coming over me. “That was high school, Carter. That’s teenager shit. You want to hold twenty-six year old me responsible for something I did way back then? Get a grip.”
He slides his hand onto my hip and up my side, spurring goosebumps over my whole body. “Get a grip. For as sensitive as you can be, you’re cold-hearted when it comes to me. Do you want to know what the worst part is?”
“What?” I exhale, my voice shaking as he brings his hand to my cheek.
He flexes his jaw, and glares at me. Involuntarily, I reach my hand out and touch his forearm. Goosebumps roll through me all over, desire filling every inch of my body. His eyes lock onto me like lasers. “The worst part is that as bad as I hate you, I can’t stop being incredibly attracted to you. Every fucking second I see you, Laces. I want to rip your clothes off and do terrible, unspeakable things to you. It makes no goddamn sense. ”
My heart beats like a bass drum.
“You want to punish me?”
Carter lets out a deep breath, and nods.
“So why don’t you?” I breathe.
“Fuck you,” he growls, his focused eyes searing into me like lasers. “Don’t tempt me.”
“No, not ‘fuck you.’ Fuck me.”
He interlocks his hands with mine and presses me against the wall, squaring his hips against me and pressing his legs against mine.
The boat rocks a little, and Carter rocks into me with his hips to keep his balance.
Warmth surges through my body and pools in my core. I try to stifle it, but a quick moan escapes my mouth.
My eyes widen, and I cover my mouth.
“Fuck you,” his words a throaty growl.
Holy fuck. I can feel the hardness of his cock riding up my legs and abdomen.
This must stop.
As turned on as I am, I can’t just let Carter ravish me because he looks so damn sexy in a tux.
Even if I want him more than anything.
Closing my eyes, I remember how hard I’ve worked to get to this dance camp. And a summer romance with a man as unpredictable as Carter will throw everything into flux.
“Carter,” I swallow, pulling on the lie that Carter still believes. “I can’t do this. My boyfriend’s upstairs.”
He smirks. “Fuck your boyfriend.”
“Please, Carter . . .”
His hand slides onto my hips, and down the side of my thigh.
“Just admit it,” he whispers against my ear. “We’ve both got some tension we need to get rid of.”
Part of me wants to push him away, but another part of me wants this so fucking bad.
And the part that wants Carter is in control of my body.
“I hate you, Carter,” I manage to mutter, a meek protest.
“I hate you too,” he growls. “But I’m also done resisting you.”
“Holy fuck,” I mutter, and he slides his huge hand up my thighs, slipping my dress over the curve of my ass.
He handles my ass roughly as his lips pound into mine.
This isn’t just a kiss though.
I feel like I’m being manhandled.
And damn, does it feel good.
Like I’m a toy he’s been thinking about playing with with for years, and only now did he finally make the decision to pull me from my box and see what I can do. And I’ve been sitting on the shelf, dreaming about this day
.
I moan and arch my hips up into him, running my hand over the outline of his thick, hard cock still trapped in his tux pants.
Slipping his hand to my thong, he pushes its front to the side, sliding a finger over my pulsing clit. He pulls his face back from our kiss and smirks, cupping my cheek to make sure I look him in the eye.
His touch is rough and strong, but I swear I see traces of the old Carter I used to know, before I messed him up with my year-long lie.
The good Carter.
“Wow. You are wetter than the lake. Tell me, Laces. Is this for your boyfriend, or for me?”
Goosebumps form all over my skin. Running his nose up my neck, he whispers in my ear. “And no more lies.”
The way he says ‘lies’ sends a shiver through my entire body.
“It’s you,” I answer honestly, though my voice shakes.
He smirks wider. It’s not even a happy expression. It’s the expression of someone who has just been victorious in battle.
My anger returns, and I realize just what I’m doing. And with who.
And that I can’t stop.
He cups my face, and I let my hand drop down his waist and onto the outline of his cock. I wrap my hand around it--still with the cloth of his pants separating me--and bolts of desire engulf me.
“If you hate me, you have a funny way of showing it,” I murmur.
I rub my cheek on his shoulder as we grind our bodies together in clumsy, passionate heat.
The heat of hate.
My chest aches with a swirl of desire, anger, and relief that this man is taking what he wants. It’s not lost on me that Carter does not give a shit I’m here with a boyfriend.
I arch my head back as he circles his finger over my clit. My toes curl, my calves tighten. Pleasure ratchets through me.
“Are you on the pill?” he asks as I grind myself on his fingers.
“Yes.”
“Come here,” he says, taking my hand.
He leads me to the deck that overlooks the water.
The sun has long since gone down. A summer breeze brushes my face.
“You have the nicest ass I’ve ever seen,” Carter growls as he runs his hand along my flesh. “But that’s not even what does it for me.”
The Lying Game Page 8
