“I was not.” I try to turn to walk away again, but he holds me tight. He’s so full of himself. Sure there was a part of me that hoped he would, but I’m certainly not going to admit that to him. It’s puzzling that I’d even want that considering the way he treats me.
He pulls me closer against him while one of his hands tilts my face up towards his, locking his eyes with mine. My heart is beating so fast now. His gaze moves down to my lips before moving back to my eyes. His face inches forward ever so slowly. Oh God. I think he’s going to kiss me.
My breath hitches when his lips are mere centimetres from mine. “You want me to kiss you don’t you?” he breathes.
“Yes,” I whisper without hesitation. Did I just admit that out loud? I kind of expect him to start laughing and hold it over me with a, “See I told you, you wanted me,” but surprisingly he doesn’t. Instead he groans before his lips gently meet mine. My hands slide up his front, fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
When my lips part he slides his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss. This is one hot kiss. I moan against his mouth. Nobody has ever kissed me like this before. It’s one of those kisses that make your toes curl. Is it possible to have an orgasm from just a kiss because I think I’m close to having one right now?
I clench my thighs together. Nobody has ever turned me on like this. Suddenly, the porch light comes on. Shit, my dad. We both pull away from each other with a start. “Indi, is that you out there?” my father calls through the screen door.
“Yes, it’s me,” I reply, my eyes still locked on Carter. We’re both breathing heavy. “I’m coming inside now.” Carter exhales as his hands run through his dark hair. His eyes still haven’t left mine. I think he’s just as shocked as I am.
I take a few steps backwards. What the hell was that? I can’t speak. I have no words for what just happened. No words for how that kiss made me feel. “I have to go,” is all I say as I turn and run up the front steps. Far out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Carter
Jesus Christ. What the fuck was that? I don’t know what just came over me. Sure, from the moment I saw her, I wanted those lips on mine, I’ll admit that. But, never did I think I would act on those feeling. Never did I think it would actually happen. And never did I think it would make me feel what I just did. Fuck.
I’m well and truly screwed.
After she walks into the house I continue to stand there. I can’t seem to get my legs to work. My middle leg is working just fine. That fucker is standing proud. It’s so fucking hard it actually hurts. Why did I go there? Why?
When the blood eventually leaves my cock and flows back into my legs, I drag my arse towards the house. I don’t bother going through the front door. I head straight for my bedroom window. I can’t face my mum or Fuckwit right now. My head is all over the place. What am I going to do? As much as I’d like to, I can’t go there with her. I just can’t.
••••
After a sleepless night, I rise early and head for my car. I have no idea where I’m going, but I can’t hang around here today. I can’t risk running into Indiana. That kiss is still haunting me. What I need to do is stay the hell away from her. She makes me feel things. Things I don’t want to feel.
It’s taken me twelve long years to build this barrier around my heart. My protective shield. The one that blocks out all feelings. If you can’t feel, you can’t hurt. Right? That’s my logic anyway.
It has only taken her days to put a crack in the foundation I worked hard at erecting. Fuck her and her sunshine and rainbows. Fuck her and her light that’s trying to penetrate my darkness. I don’t need it, and I sure as hell don’t want it.
I end up at a park, miles from where I now live. I’m not even sure of the suburb. Who fucking cares? It gives me what I need: distance, time to think, time to process. Time to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about Indiana-fucking-Montgomery. Why is she worming her way into my heart?
Stubbing out my cigarette, I light up another. That’s not helping either. Reaching across to the passenger seat, I slide my hand underneath and pull out my sketchpad. It’s been months since I’ve drawn anything. Maybe that may calm me the hell down. It’s worked in the past.
Flicking through the pages, I study some of my other drawings. They’re pretty dark; skulls, demons and snakes, shit like that. It suits my personality I guess. Retrieving a pencil out of the glove compartment, I start to draw. When I’m done, I stare down at my work.
Usually I get into the zone and let my hand draw what it wants. Of course today it chose to draw her. Those big eyes framed with long, thick, dark lashes and those beautiful plump lips that taste like fucking heaven. Christ she’s beautiful. Damn her.
Tearing the drawing from the sketchpad, I screw it up and toss it on the floor. Grabbing my cigarettes, I get out of the car and walk across the park, eventually settling under a tree.
I open my pad to a fresh page. This time I make sure I control what my hand does. No fucking kid. It ends up being a picture of a skull with a snake coming out of the eye sockets and black roses wrapped in its tail. That’s more like it. Placing it on my lap, I light another cigarette and I sit back and admire my handiwork.
“Hey, buddy. Got a light?” someone asks. I look up to see a guy approaching covered in tattoos. He has a huge silver spike piercing through his eyebrow and one-inch ear plugs in his lobes. I don’t mind the odd piercing, but stretching your earlobe seems extreme to me. It’s not like you’re gonna be wearing plugs in your ears when you’re seventy years old. What are you gonna do with those huge-arse fucking holes then?
“Sure,” I say throwing it to him.
“Thanks. I left mine at the shop.” He leans forward and passes it back once his cigarette is lit. “Hey, did you draw that?” he asks looking down at my sketchpad.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“That’s pretty good. Mind if I take a look?”
“Sure. Knock yourself out,” I say handing it to him. I’ve never shown anyone my work before, but I don’t know this guy, so who cares what he thinks? I don’t.
“That would make a fucking awesome tatt. Ever thought of selling these?” he asks.
“Nah. I just do it for fun.”
“I own the tattoo parlour across the road,” he says pointing across the park towards the line of shops on the other side of the street. He flicks back through some of the other drawings. “Fuck, these are wicked.”
“Thanks man,” I answer. I’ll admit I’m pretty stoked that he likes my work.
“I’m serious. I’d love to buy some of these. I’m always looking for new designs. You wanna sell them?” I shrug. Do I? I’m not really sure. It would be kind of cool to know my drawings were inked on someone permanently. I’ve even considered getting a few myself when I can afford it. Tattoos don’t come cheap. “Do ya wanna come check out my shop?”
“Sure, why not,” I reply, standing. I’ve got nothing better to do.
“Jax,” he says extending his hand to me.
“Carter.”
I walk with him across the street. His shop’s pretty cool. It doesn’t look like much from out in the street, but inside the setup is wicked. My eyes dart around before landing on the girl behind the desk. She has a full sleeve tattoo on both arms and hot pink hair, but believe it or not it suits her. She’s pretty hot. She has a nice rack, too. I’m guessing she’s in her early twenties.
“Candice, this is Carter,” Jax says as we approach her.
She makes no attempt to hide the fact she’s checking me out. “Hi handsome,” she winks.
“Hey,” I say with a flick of my head.
“Check out these drawings,” Jax says giving her my sketchpad. I know my drawings are good, but I’m uncomfortable about her seeing them for some reason.