“You need to go back to your song lyrics,” I told him, my breaths quickening.

“If I went back, I’d be writing about sex, and Harold specifically ordered zero fornication in my lyrics.”

“You can always insinuate it.”

He smiled against my mouth and, in a low, spine tingling voice, sang,

“I want to butter your bread,
with my pointy butter knife.
Til it’s dripping off your bun,
This salty elixir of life.”

I stilled and groaned in dismay. “Oh, my God, that sucked so badly, Carter.”

He laughed. “I never said it would be good!”

“Even calling it bad is a compliment. You should be very embarrassed of yourself.”

“I’m embarrassed for you for even hearing it.”

“Your salty elixir of life?”

“You know, my come –”

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“I know what you meant! Don’t… don’t make my ears bleed. Christ.”

“I’m not. You brought it up!”

I laughed and he looked down at me, his eyes sparkling with life. In this moment, he was beyond happy. His smile was large, brightening his face, adding dimples in his cheeks. It was a rarity seeing him like this. I never wanted to forget it.

“Tell me how I can redeem myself then,” he told me, his hand still settled between my legs. I glimpsed down his neck and to his protruding trapezoids. The muscles looked strained along his shoulders, and his large biceps had this sexy ass vein sticking out that, for some weird reason, made it sexier to look at.

“Someone as sexy as you doesn’t need to redeem himself with music,” I told him. “You could sing about tampons and it’d be the best song in the freaking world.”

When he opened his mouth, I immediately clamped it shut with my hand. “And please,” I added sternly, “do not sing about tampons.”

His body shook with laughter again. He kissed my hand away and motioned down my body. “I want to redeem myself by sucking your pussy ‘til it’s exploding in my mouth. How about that?”

My heart stopped, went what-the-fuck in my ribcage, and kick-started again. “How about you give me more than your mouth?”

He paused, his eyes boring into mine, realizing exactly what I meant. If ever there were words enough to destroy a fun situation, they were those ones apparently.

“I’m not sure we should go so far,” he whispered to me, pinching his brows together.

“Why? We’ve done everything but.”

“That’s a huge step.”

“For who exactly?”

He just blinked at me, his mouth firmly shut.

“Talk to me, Carter,” I pressed gently, looking deep in his eyes. “Help me understand.”

“I already told you,” he returned solemnly, “I’m a fuck-up, and I’ll find a way to fuck this up. I can’t stand the thought of not having you in my life. I don’t want to ruin you, or us. I like what we are as it is. Sex… would complicate things.”

“But everything else we’ve done hasn’t?”

He sighed, looking about my face thoughtfully. “It’s not all that personal. Sex would be.”

Now I was really struggling to understand. “You’ve had sex with girls before. You told me many times it was never personal.”

“Yeah,” he agreed carefully, stalling a moment before adding, “but sex… with you would be.”

There was so much about that statement I wanted to ask. Like, what are you so afraid of? Why don’t you want to make it personal?

“Are you worried about me?” I wondered. “You think I’m going to get attached?”

He shrugged. “We’ve practically grown up together. There’s a lot of familiarity there. So it might happen.”

“And that would be bad?”

“Only because you might start wanting more, and I’m not capable of that.”

What made him think he wasn’t capable of that? I stared at him longer, trying to figure him out. There were so many parts of him he’d shut away from me, issues he was obviously facing alone. I wanted him to involve me, bring me into his head where the truth to the way he was lurked.

“What did I say before?” I eventually replied. “I said to trust what I want. I’m a big girl, and after everything I’ve had to go through growing up, don’t you know I’m tough as nails? I can look after myself.”

It took everything in me to sound convincing. He just stared, studying me closely. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it, as though he changed his mind. I suddenly wondered what it was we were trying to agree on. I thought we were already friends with benefits. Why did he make it seem like we hadn’t encroached on that territory?

At that point, I didn’t think anything would change if he took it further. He already used his mouth and fingers to make me come, so what if it was his dick this time? It was just another means to get there, right?

“Fuck,” he muttered weakly, his eyes drawn to my mouth when I’d licked it. “You’re so sexy to me, Leah.”

My cheeks warmed and my heart pinched. He leaned down and kissed me, and it was another soul sucking kiss. I lifted my hips against his, telling him with the language of my body that I was not going to settle for another finger rub. I knew all about the condoms he had stuffed in the bathroom cabinet, as if he had considered this would happen too.

He pressed me against the crappy mattress with his upper weight, and I ran my hands down his back, feeling every line and curve of his hard muscles. His hands slipped under my shirt, the warmth of his skin roaming up my body, heating me up instantly. His fingers grazed against the front of my bra, lightly stroking my nipple, and I arched my back for him as he cupped my breast and squeezed gently.

Shit, it was good. I moaned into his mouth and felt his hand move to my back. A second later the pressure of my bra lessened as he unclasped it effortlessly. He broke free from my mouth and lifted my shirt up and over my head. His breath caught in his throat once he threw off my bra and stared down at me in nothing but a thong on.

“Fuck, Leah,” he muttered, dipping his head to my chest. I felt the wet strokes of his tongue around my nipple and I shook at the bolt of pleasure that travelled down my body to my core. He licked down my abdomen, nipping at my hips, and sliding my thong down slowly. A second later, I was completely naked and pulling him by his hair up to me so I could kiss him again. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, stroking it against mine.




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