“Can we not go there again?” I plead. I’m still reeling over what happened. I can’t believe I let myself develop feelings for that douche.
••••
My stomach is in knots as I sit here waiting for Brad to arrive. I have Meg’s number on speed dial just in case he tries to make a move. She’s already promised to come straight over if I need her. So she should, since she’s the one that’s gotten me into this mess in the first place.
It’s just getting dark when I hear the tap on my bedroom window. I was hoping he could’ve come earlier, but he had football practice. As I make my way towards the window, I see him smiling up at me. He really is good looking, but in my eyes he has nothing on Carter.
“Hey,” I say as I slide open the glass.
“Hey, pretty girl.” I have to hold back the eye roll. He can put on the charm all he likes, but he still has no chance of getting into my pants.
He places his hands on my windowsill ready to launch himself up, but in an instant he disappears. What the hell? I hear a growl, followed by, “I don’t fucking think so.” Carter. Shit. He pulls Brad backwards, making him stumble. When I stick my head out, I see them standing face-to-face.
“What the fuck, Reynolds?” Brad snaps. “What’s your problem?”
“You are,” Carter spits. Oh shit. I’ve never seen him look so angry. His face is red and there’s a vein protruding from his neck. This isn’t going to end well. Fucking Meg and her brilliant ideas. Not.
“Carter,” I screech, my nails digging into the wooden frame.
“You stay the fuck out of this, kid. I’ll deal with you later.” He doesn’t even look my way. His eyes are firmly fixed on Brad. He looks like he’s ready to rip him apart. I bite my tongue. As much as I’d like to retaliate, common sense tells me to keep my mouth shut.
“You’ve got five seconds to turn around and go back to where you came from, or …”
“Or fucking what, Reynolds? What are you going to do?” Brad retaliates, getting up in his face. Shit. Does he have a death wish? That murderous look on Carter’s face alone would have me running for the hills.
“After I kick your arse, I’ll drag you down to the police station. That’s what.”
“That’s real smart, dumb-arse. You’ll assault me and then take me to the cops. It’ll only result in you getting charged, so go right ahead,” Brad retorts with a chuckle. God he can be so cocky sometimes.
“I don’t think so. When I tell her father I caught you trying to sneak in through her bedroom window he’ll thank me for what I did.” Carter’s right, he will. Then my dad will rip him apart.
Brad doesn’t move. He stands strong. Then he goes and does something incredibly stupid. Instead of taking Carter’s advice like he should, the imbecile pushes him. Dumb move, dipshit. Carter stumbles back slightly and then smirks. Actually smirks at him. Like he’s saying, ‘is that the best you got?’. Shit, he’s crazy.
Stepping back into his face, Carter says in a calm, yet intimidating voice, “One.” What is it with Carter and his damn counting? My eyes move to Brad. He’s no longer looking so sure of himself. I don’t blame him. This is like watching a train wreck. As much as you’d like to look away, you can’t. “Two.” I want to call out, run Brad, because that’s exactly what I’d be doing. The idiot just stands there.
On the count of three, Brad raises his hand to throw a punch. Carter’s quick and catches it mid-air. “Four, five,” he says quickly before launching at him. He tackles Brad to the ground with a thud. Raising his fist, he brings it down, connecting it with Brad’s face. Fucking hell.
Climbing out the window, I run towards them. Probably not a wise thing to do. “Carter,” I scream as I grab hold of his shirt. “Carter.” With my other hand I reach for his arm and try to pull him off. He doesn’t budge.
“Get off me,” Brad whines. I’m relieved when Carter finally listens. He’s breathing heavy as he stands. Brad snakes his way backwards on his elbows, never once taking his eyes of Carter. He eventually manages to stand, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ll pay for this, Reynolds,” he spits before turning and walking away.
“I look forward to it, Cartwright,” Carter says to his retreating back. Idiots, the pair of them. I turn in a huff and make my way back towards my window. I’m so mad right now.
Climbing back through, I reach for the glass to close it. “I’m not finished with you,” Carter says as he pushes the window back open and hauls his arse into my room in one bound. Fuck. I take a step back. When I get a glimpse of the look on his face, I take another step. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he growls.
I continue walking backwards as he stalks towards me. Eventually my back comes into contact with the wall. Shit. Closing the distance between us, he places his hands on either side of my head, caging me in. Leaning forward he pushes his body into mine, pinning me against the wall. I’m trapped.
“Get out of my room,” I sneer as I try to push him off me. As mad as he is with me right now, I’m surprised I’m not scared of him.
“I don’t think so,” he says, roughly grabbing hold of my face and tilting it up so my eyes meet his. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Well you thought wrong,” I retort narrowing my eyes at him. Who in the hell does he think he is?
“After everything I told you about him, you still invited him over?”
“Yep,” I say smugly, because it’s none of his business why Brad was here. He growls angrily in my face. Fuck him. He can think what he likes. You didn’t see me ripping that pink-haired bimbo out of his window the other night, even though the thought did cross my mind at the time.
“You wanna act like a slut, then I’ll treat you like one,” he says, roughly bringing his lips down to mine. I’m shocked. I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me. I wasn’t expecting him to insinuate I was acting like a slut either. How dare he? What a hypocrite. He’s the whore, not me.
I try to push him away for all of a second. His kiss is hard, bruising almost. Nothing like the sweet kiss we shared last time. But it’s hot. Smoking hot. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about having his lips on me again. I hate him and lust over him all in the same breath.
Fisting his shirt in my hands, I pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He groans into my mouth. “You want this don’t you?” he breathes, thrusting his erection into my stomach.
“No,” I lie, but the answer is yes. I want him so bad. I want him to do all the things that he has done to those other girls, to me. How pathetic is that?
His fingers glide down the sides of my body until he’s cupping my arse in his hands. He easily lifts me off the ground and my legs wrap around his waist. His hardness is pressing right against my centre giving me the friction I crave. Leaning my head back against the wall, I moan. The feeling is exquisite. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I dig the heels of my feet into his back, bringing him even closer as I grind myself against him.
His mouth moves across my jaw and down my neck. “Your body is telling me you want me. Stop denying it,” he says into the crook of my neck.
“You’re full of yourself. I don’t,” I pant. Another lie. He chuckles against my skin. Lifting his head, he looks me in the eye.
“If I was to touch you now, I know you’d be wet.” I know I would be too, but I’m not going to admit it.
“Well you’d be wrong.” He cocks one of his eyebrows. I know it’s a challenge.
“We’ll just see about that,” he says with a cocky smile as his hand slips into the waistband of my yoga pants. Oh God. He’s going to know I’m lying, but surprisingly I don’t care. I want him to touch me there. No, I need him to. “Your panties are soaked,” he groans pulling back to look at me. “Now tell me you still don’t want me.” The anger I saw in his eyes when he pinned me against the wall has vanished. It’s now replaced with red hot desire. The way he’s looking at me right now has my heart beating out of my chest. “So you don’t want me to do this then?” he asks, pressing his fingers in a circular motion against my clit.