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.
Even though we’re alone, I lower my voice. “Yeah, us hooking up?”
“What’s there to discuss? We made out, did some stuff, and that was the end of it.” She shrugs and relaxes on the chair, crossing her legs, and tapping her foot. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Oh. Okay.” I have no clue how to proceed. I’m at a loss. But I can’t keep staring at her like a dumbass. Especially when she raises her brows in silent question. “I…wanted to make sure that we’re good,” I mumble.
For the first time since walking in the door, Daisy gifts me with a cool smile as she rises from the chair. “Don’t worry about it, Carter, we’re good. I’ve already forgotten about what happened. It’s water under the bridge.”
“Okay, well…great,” I mumble.
She takes a few steps toward the hallway. “Is there anything else?”
“Ummm, no.” There’s a peculiar sensation growing in my belly. Like something isn’t quite right, but I have no idea what. “That was it.”
I’m tempted to ask if she’s sure about us being good. But I’ve made enough of an ass out of myself where Daisy is concerned. The best thing we can do is put this behind us and move on.
So…this is good.
“All right then,” she calls over her shoulder. “I have to get ready.”
I perk up. “Oh?”
She just walked through the door five minutes ago. Where the hell is she off to?
Daisy heads to her room and closes the door before I can give her the fifth degree. I focus on the television but don’t ask me what I’m watching, because I couldn’t tell you. My ears are pricked for the slightest sound coming from Daisy’s room. I shift on the couch and click to a different station. We have the super deluxe sports package, so we have about a million channels to choose from.
Why do I care what Daisy does?
I click to another station.
I’ve never cared before.
Point and flick.
Well, that’s not altogether true.
Fine, I care.
I just don’t want to care.
Does that make any difference?
I suspect it doesn’t.
Click.
My brows snap together as I see a couple making out on the screen.
What the hell am I even watching?
Flick.
Fuck me.
I plow my hand through my hair with more agitation than when she first walked in the door.
How’s that possible?
I was afraid she’d be hurt or pissed off and she was neither of those things. She didn’t give one single fuck about what happened between us. She was totally nonchalant about the situation. And damn, if that doesn’t chafe my ass. Which is ridiculous. This is precisely the outcome I was shooting for.
And yet…
By the time Daisy opens her bedroom door and walks out again, I’ve worked myself up into a fine lather. I’m practically frothing at the mouth.
What the hell has this girl done to me?
I pride myself on being able to remain detached from most situations. Especially ones that involve chicks. And yet, Daisy has managed to flip a switch inside me. She’s totally messed up my narrative.
Whatever I was about to say dies on my lips as my gaze rakes over her.
Short skirt that bares way too much of her legs. Tight top that hugs her curves.
Curves that I had my hands all over last night. And heels that give her more height.
I narrow my eyes knowing exactly what this outfit signifies.
Why the hell is she wearing one of her date night outfits? I’ve seen enough variations to know a I’m-hoping-to-get-laid outfit when I see one.
I sit up straight as my voice sharpens. “Where did you say you were going?”
She throws a look my way as if she can barely tolerate the sight of me.
Seriously?
It takes everything I have inside not to jump off the couch and remind her exactly who’s arms she spent the night wrapped in. But, I don’t. Somehow, I manage to keep my shit together.
“I didn’t.” She grabs her purse off the table.
I gnash my teeth together and count to ten, trying to rein in my temper. The fact that I shouldn’t give a damn about where she goes, what she does, or who she does it with, isn’t lost on me.
“Are you going out on a date?” I congratulate myself for keeping my voice neutral.
“Yup.”
Her coolness is like nails slowly scraping across a chalkboard. For Christ’s sake, I should be rejoicing that she’s moved on so quickly. Instead…
“And you’re wearing that?” My brows lower.
Daisy glances at her ensemble. “That was the plan. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”
I make a conscious effort to unlock my jaw. “Don’t you think that skirt is a bit short?”
She smooths a hand over the fabric. Not that there’s much of it.
Just a hint of a frown mars her face as she considers the question. “No. It hits mid-thigh, which is a perfectly acceptable length.”
“You can’t even bend over without flashing your panties,” I point out. That thought is enough to incense me.
“No worries there,” she says sweetly, practically skipping toward the door. “I’m not wearing any.”
The breath hisses from my lungs just as the door to the apartment slams shut.
Oh, no she didn’t!
But yeah…yeah, she did.
Fuck!
Chapter Twenty-Six
Daisy
The apartment is dark when I return. My lips curve remembering the pissed off look on Carter’s face when I told him that I was going out. Even though I didn’t catch his expression when I dropped the panty bomb, I have a pretty good idea what it looked like.
Carter wants to pretend we never hooked up?
That’s fine.
Two can play that game.
I can’t tell you just how satisfying it was to knock him off balance. Carter Prescott is used to being chased by the women of BU. He’s used to holding all the power. Well, that’s not going to happen with this girl.
On the way to the bedroom, I slip off my heels and glance down the hallway. Both Carter and Noah’s doors are closed. I assume Noah returned from his trip with Ashley. Once I’m in my room, I close the door and throw my purse and heels in the corner. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told Carter that I was going out on a date.
I did.
With Alex.
He stopped by the table Olivia and I’d been studying at this afternoon and we chatted for about ten minutes before he asked if I was interested in getting together that night. My first inclination had been to say no. But then I thought…why shouldn’t I go out?
Carter made it perfectly clear this morning that us getting physical had been a mistake. So, there was no reason for me not to go out with a cute guy who has potential. Right?
Exactly.
We ended up grabbing dinner and seeing a movie. It was casual and low key. Alex fits the profile I usually go for. Tall, athletic, and nice looking. Added bonus, he has dimples. He was the perfect gentleman and didn’t try to get all touchy feely. What I really liked was his sense of humor. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect guy.
Or first date.
And yet it wasn’t.
A certain dark-haired football player dominated most of my thoughts which was annoying as hell. Carter is the last person I want to dwell on. Especially since I’m nothing more than a regrettable decision on his part.
Well, screw him.
I turn on the bedside light and strip off my shirt. As I do, a movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention and I nearly jump out of my skin. I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream when my gaze lands on the guy stretched out on top of the comforter.
Carter bolts up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Calm down, it’s just me.”
“What are you doing in here?” I whisper-shout as my heart thrashes under my breast.
What the hell is wrong with this guy?
Is he trying to give me a heart attack?
He ignores the question. “Who were you out with?”
Oh…
So, we’re back to this again.
Figures.
I fold my arms across my chest and glare as the adrenalin dissipates from my body. “No one you know.” Before he’s able to fire off any other questions, I add, “And, more importantly, it’s none of your business.”
Carter rises to his feet and towers over me.
“What are you doing, Daisy?” His eyes narrow. “Is this some sort of game you’re playing?”
My mouth falls open.
A game?
Seriously?
“Excuse me? You were very clear about your feelings this morning. What did you think was going to happen when you told me you weren’t interested? That I was going to sit around and mope? Maybe pine away for you?” I shake my head and press my lips together before adding, “You know me better than that.”
He slides both hands into his hair and spins away so his back is turned toward me. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Why do you have to make this so difficult?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
He swings around again. His big body moves with the fluid grace of an athlete. But it’s the way his eyes spark with heat that holds me captive.
“Yeah, you are.” His gaze drops to my lips and he shakes his head. “This can’t happen, Daisy. We discussed it.”
I’m over this conversation. I don’t want to keep rehashing the same thing. It does neither of us any good.
“Okay.” I shrug. “I’m not sure why you felt the need to stop by and clarify that for me, but I’ve got it. Message received loud and clear.” I turn my back and unhook my bra. A surge of gratification rushes through me as he rasps out a strangled sound. I throw a glance over my shoulder. “If that’s all you came here to say, feel free to leave.”
He watches me with a tortured expression on his face.
I don’t know why I’m so intent on pushing him. I can’t seem to help myself. I unsnap the button of my skirt and lower the zipper before sliding it down my thighs. I bend over so that he’s able to get a good look at my ass.
And the thong covering it.
Contrary to what I said earlier, I didn’t go out sans underwear.
Please, what do you take me for?
I’ll save something like that for the fifth or sixth date.
Carter hisses out a breath.
As much as I want to turn and gloat, I open the top drawer of my dresser and pull out a comfy tank top that’s seen better days and sleep shorts that barely cover my behind.
“Why are you doing this?” he groans.
“What?” I pause. “Getting ready for bed?” I throw another careless look over my shoulder and meet his eyes. “Because I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night and I’m tired.”
“This is such a bad fucking idea.”
It’s the desperation in his voice that makes me turn toward him. As I do, his eyes roam over my body. Other than a thong, I’m naked. Even though I’m tempted to cover myself, I don’t. I keep my hands at my sides and let him look his fill.
“So you keep saying,” I respond calmly.
The heat of his gaze singes my flesh. I’ve never felt anything like it.
“Christ, Daisy…What are you trying to do to me?”
I take a step toward him. Then another. I move cautiously as if approaching a skittish animal. One that could bolt at any moment.
“I didn’t seek you out,” I remind him. “You were waiting for me in my bedroom.”
He rips his gaze from my body and I instantly feel the loss of it.
“I shouldn’t have,” he mumbles. “It was a shit decision on my part.”
Wow.
I point to the door. I won’t beg anyone for their time or attention. I’ve been down that road before with my parents. In the end, it never works out.
Carter can have any girl he wants. And he has. I’ve seen it play out hundreds of times before. All he has to do is crook a finger and they come running en masse. But that’s not me. I have zero interest in being a jersey chasing groupie.
“Then you should leave before you make any more decisions you’ll end up regretting.” It takes effort to keep the hurt from seeping into my voice.
Carter sucks in a breath and nods. “You’re right.”
Disappointment surges through me. His gaze stays pinned to mine. It feels like we’re locked in a silent battle of wills. I expect him to head for the door, but that’s not what happens.
Instead, he eats up the distance between us in two strides and yanks me against him before his arms slide around my body. The way his erection juts into my belly sends shivers scampering down my spine. Heat pools in my core and my knees weaken as I breathe him in. His scent is a mixture of masculinity and beachy sunshine. Something that is distinctly Carter.
“I don’t like what you do to me,” he growls.
His mouth hovers over mine, never quite making contact.
“I don’t like what you make me feel,” he adds.
I part my lips, willing his to lower. A sigh escapes from me in a rush of breath.
“What the hell am I going to do about you, Daisy?”
I have several interesting ideas that are worth exploring, but I have the feeling those would be classified as mistakes.
“Do you know how much I want to fuck you?” he asks.
My breath stalls and I grow lightheaded from lack of oxygen.
His lips crash onto mine. Needing to feel the slide of his tongue against mine, I open willingly. He slips inside my mouth and takes me under. I have no idea how long we stay entwined, our hands coasting over each other’s bodies. Our mouths fused with need.
Carter walks us until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he falls onto the bed. With a soft grunt, I land sprawled on top of him.
Between hungry kisses, he mutters, “As stupid as this is, I can’t stop it from happening.”
I make some sort of noise in agreement.
So stupid, but I don’t care.
His shirt and shorts need to go. I want him naked, so I can feel his hard-male strength against me. The thought of it is enough to dampen the scrap of material between my thighs. Carter rolls us over so that his weight presses me into the mattress. I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding against his thick length.
His breath comes out in heavy pants as he rests his forehead against mine. “I just want to fuck you.”
“Then do it,” I urge. “Fuck me.”
“Are you sure?” His jaw tightens.
“I want this, Carter. Haven’t I made that clear? I’m not the one having regrets,” I remind him. “You are.”
“I know,” he groans.
The sound of his walls tumbling down is a beautiful thing.
I glance at my purse on the floor next to my shoes. “There’s a condom in my bag.”
He thrusts against me before rolling to the side and flopping onto his back where he throws a thick arm over his eyes. Part of me expects him to hop off the bed and bolt for the door.
I pad over to my purse and rifle through the contents looking for the condom I always keep with me. I’m a safety girl. I’d rather be prepared than get caught up in a situation where I’m not thinking clearly.
Once I have the foil packet in hand, I crawl onto the bed and on top of Carter. He’s bare chested. The athletic shorts that cover him rest low on his hips, showing off the sexy V that dips beneath them. Taking control of the situation, I grab the elastic band and ease them down his waist.
Love to Hate You Page 17
