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“You never do, pet.” Carter’s hands slide lower, possessive, as he grips my hips. “He likes you. Very much.”
Eek, he’s serious. “No way. He would’ve said something.”
“Doesn’t have to,” he growls. From frustration. From desire. Maybe from both. “That’s how his eyes change when he needs.”
Oh, no. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.
For Carter, not me. Carter the kid. Any number of things could’ve happened in the soundproofed penthouse. Bad things. The worst of them.
Motherfucker. I’ll kill this child molester. I’ll burn Killian until he’s nothing but ashes. Then I’ll pee on him. And worse.
No one touches my baby. No one.
“Carter, did he touch you?” I drown out the bubbling panic, smoothing my features and lowering my voice. On the inside, I’m fucking livid. “When you were a kid?”
“No, no.” Carter squares his shoulders. “Never.”
I tilt my head, studying his expression.
What the fuck? He seems disappointed.
Maybe the three of us don’t have to be a mess?
Then again… I have questions.
“Okay. So, let me get this straight.” My fingers run along the planes of his chest. “This… It’s okay with you?”
He frowns, and it takes everything in me not to bite his bottom lip. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Making sense of this new situation gets trickier by the second.
“Hmm, you punched Bradley, from the bodega down the street, last month. Remember? When he asked me if I wanted a bag for my candy.”
Poor Bradley. Carter didn’t stop at punching him in the face. He then demanded that Bradley hand over his security tapes. Warned him against telling anyone about what transpired that evening.
It was hot. So fucking hot.
Still, I felt kind of bad that Bradley hasn’t spoken to me since.
“He could’ve asked me.” The muscles beneath his shirt flex. “He was hitting on you while I had my arm around you. He didn’t respect you. Didn’t respect me. He had it coming.”
I quirk an eyebrow.
“Bradley isn’t Killian.” Another truth I can’t refute. “You’re moving in. End of story.”
Carter plasters a scorching kiss on my lips, ending our discussion. For now.
My body responds to his demanding fingers, bending to Carter’s will. He pushes me back to the couch until I’m lying on it. My zipper is yanked down, and Carter snarls as if he’s offended it’s there in the first place.
My big, strong man lifts my hips while tugging my jeans and thong down my ass.
He pins me with a dark glare once I’m naked from my waist down, towering over me. “I’m going to lick your pretty pussy, Amara. I dare you to tell me no.”
I open my legs wider. “Never.”
“Jesus, my horny little pet is drenched for me. Or is it because I told you Killian’s dying to fuck your pretty hole?” He pushes two fingers inside me, and I cry out his name. “Yeah, that’s right. Scream for me, baby. Tell me how much you want me to suck your clit.”
Images of his father materializing beside him filter into my vision.
