I came home tonight, ready to fight for him, to tell him I was ready and that I want this. Him. And now here we are, and I don’t… I’m doing everything he said I do. Overthinking and allowing my thoughts to stray to bad places. But he knows I do this. He knows! And he’s still staying silent, not allowing me to speak.
The water abruptly shuts off, the kiss of the cool air-conditioned air hits my skin, making me explode in goose bumps. Carter swathes me in a fluffy white towel, another for my hair, and then he’s gone, a towel around his waist.
When he returns, he’s dressed in boxer briefs and nothing else, but he has one of his T-shirts and a pair of my panties. Nothing special. Just a plain satin thong, since those are all I generally wear.
I can’t meet his eyes.
I can’t meet my own in the mirror as I brush my hair and teeth.
This is not how I saw any of this going. I expected quick words and sharp tongues. I expected heat and passion and love. Carter is achingly tender and it’s throwing me off completely. On any other night, I would welcome this, but not tonight.
“Carter?” I finally manage as the lights are off and we’re in his bed, his arms around me, his chest to my back.
“Shhh,” he shushes. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Tonight we’re just going to get some rest. We need rest.”
He drops a kiss to the crook of my neck and then settles in, holding me, forcing my mentally and physically exhausted body to eventually succumb to sleep. Leaving me bereft. Reeling. Grappling with more questions and no answers.
Scared that it’s too late to fix this.
Especially when I wake up alone and realize he’s already gone.
33
Stepping out of the OR, my last patient of the day needing a C-section, I scrub out, taking a quiet moment to do my breathing exercises. I haven’t felt dizzy all day and I think it’s because I’ve been hydrating like a madwoman and eating more snacks than I typically would have.
But now that my day is done, I’m not sure where I should go. What bedroom to sleep in if I do go back to Carter’s. One thing I know for sure, we have a lot of talking ahead of us. I don’t know what happened last night. What that was. Why he wasn’t there this morning.
We saw each other at work today, playing cat and mouse, him doing his thing and me doing mine. He never sought me out. His only words to me today were asking if I was feeling alright when I was gobbling down a protein bar and chasing it with water.
I gave him a nod, and he gave me one in return, and that was that.
He’s given me the space I requested. Too much space. No more calls. No more texts. No more seeking me out or kissing me into oblivion in a hidden corner during a stolen moment. The first time he’s ever done as I asked, and I can’t stand it.
I want to chase him down in the hall, corner him, and beat him up while kissing him crazy. I want the man and I’m angry with him and scared and confused and just fuck. I feel like a broken goddamn record. Scared and confused is all I’ve been since I ran out on Tony.
Screw this. I’m going home. Back to his place. I’m making dinner and then we’re talking. We’re figuring this out before this Cold War turns into something else. Estrangement.
Just as I turn to leave, a hand clasps my arm, dragging me along the hall in the direction of the locker rooms. Carter releases me, pointing harshly in the direction of the door. “Go shower. Get Changed. Do it now.”
Okay. This stops here.
I step into him, staring up into his savagely handsome face and intense dark brown eyes that never fail to make my body shudder in the best possible way.
“Carter, you and I need to talk. Not fight. Not stay silent. Please listen to me.”
He glares, grabbing the back of my head and dropping his lips to my ear where he breathes out harshly. “Go shower and put on whatever is in your locker.” With that, he storms off and I have to admit, he is pretty damn hot when he’s all worked up.
Still, if this is how he’s going to be, we’re going to have a long night ahead of us.
That is until I peer in my locker and discover the slinky red dress and matching heels with matching soles. No bra. No panties. Though I know I had a set in my locker. Hell, I had a whole slew of other clothes in here.
Carter Fritz apparently wants to play dirty tonight and I’m all for it.
I shower, taking care to shave my legs and then blow out my long blonde hair. Makeup is next and I’m still in my towel. I may put on that dress sans undergarments. I might even be wet the entire night because of it regardless of whether he touches me or not. But I’ll never let him know I’m anxious for it by rushing through.
No. The domineering and prickly bastard deserves to wait.
But the moment the luxuriously silky fabric slides down my body, I know I won’t be able to play it cool the way I hope. The dress is designer, expensive, contouring every curve of my body to perfection. The material hits my mid-thigh, my lower back, and the dip between my breasts with absolute precision. The sexy-as-sin heels adding height as they make my legs appear miles long. I don’t even care that I was on my feet for twelve hours today and that these bad boys pinch my toes.
Now I have to walk out of here looking like this. I feel like I should put on my lab coat over this so no one sees, but Carter must have taken that too.
I paint my lips red, giving them a smack before I wink at myself in the mirror.
What is it about a hot dress and a killer pair of heels that undeniably makes you feel beyond sexy? Or is it the man who bought them for me, giving me no choice but to wear them since every other stitch of clothing was missing from my locker.
Carter is waiting for me, standing against the opposite wall and when I get a good look at him, all the air leaves my lungs. He’s showered too, wearing a dark suit, a white button-down and no tie. And let me tell you, the man can wear a suit. It’s like the thing was custom made for his body—which it likely was.
His dark hair is still damp, brushed back off his smooth face, his sharply angled jaw locked tight as his heated gaze sweep over me. He pushes off the wall, stalking toward me with a predatory gleam to his eyes. His hand drags around my waist, sliding up and catching the line of bare flesh of my back.
“Carter,” I hiss, glancing frantically around, only to find the hall empty. “You’re going to get us caught.”
His mouth hovers over my lips, breathing into me without touching. “You look good enough to eat. And knowing you have nothing on under this dress is going to have me hard all night.” His hips thrust into me, proving just how hard he is, and I whimper in response. Soft lips fall to the crook of my neck and then he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. “Ready for dinner?”
Dinner? Is he kidding?
“Are we talking actual food?”
“You said we need to talk.” A wicked smirk quirks up his lips. “Besides, I thought we’d play a little first.”
I have no idea what that means, but I quickly learn when we reach the new casino at the Boston Harbor. I also learn Carter has a plan for me. A plan to torture me. I’m starting to understand why he left me without undergarments. Why he didn’t speak to me last night and vanished this morning.
Punishment.
From the moment we step out of his car, Carter’s hands are all over me. His touch, seemingly innocuous to everyone we pass—on my lower back, across my shoulder, skimming down my spine—sets off every pleasure sensor in my body. He knows it too. There is no fooling him when it comes to the way I react to him.