“I’m Carson.”
“Okay, go hunt down someone else, Carson.”
“Maybe three times as intriguing.” After a second, he stood. “Nice to meet you, Lane.”
“It’s Laney, but how did you—?”
He glanced down at my coffee cup, which he was still holding. My name was written in big letters on the side, the ‘Y’ an illegible scribble. I should’ve gone the more environmentally friendly route and skipped the paper cup. But not a big deal. All he knew was most of my name and my drink order. Thankfully they didn’t write my phone number on there, too. Not that he would remember it three minutes from now, because frankly, I’m not worth that much of his effort.
He handed my coffee back but didn’t go away, seemingly content to keep staring at me with a cocky grin. Okay, he was really far from average looking. But guaranteed, he was as much a liar as they all are. Maybe worse because the more attractive a guy is, the more he thinks he can get away with. I take that back—the more he can get away with. Because women are idiots.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re different from every other guy, searching for the one woman who will complete you. You’re considerate, caring, and really want a chance to know who I truly am.”
“Not at all,” he said, ticking the points off with his fingers and grimacing. “Definitely not. Dear god no. That’s not even close to what I want from you. And…was that all of them? I got distracted by your breasts for a little while there, so I may have missed one.”
I coughed, covering my mouth before I spit my coffee out. “Seriously?” In the last few months I’d had a lot of similar conversations with moderately similar guys. But not a single one had an answer even remotely like that.
“Seriously. I’m a complete asshole who only cares about what he can get from someone. Take you, for example. I saw you sitting here alone, no ring, great body. And thought, ‘I want to fuck her.’ And yeah, those were the exact words that went through my head. On the way over here I tried to figure out the fastest and most efficient way to get you into my bed—which isn’t far from here, by the way—hoping you weren’t the type who needed a couple dinners out first. So, Lane”—he popped an eyebrow—“are you?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Was I? I used to be. Except it had taken more than a couple dinners before I slept with someone. It had taken a commitment of some kind. And now? Even though I was done with relationships and love, I didn’t want to be celibate for the rest of my life. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but there was only one way to find out. And, as far as guinea pigs went, I couldn’t have found a more attractive one. So…
Fuck it. For some unknown reason, I’d shaved my legs this morning. Maybe it was a sign from the universe that today was the day to do some experimenting.
Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m about to do this. I stood, grabbed my bag, and pushed past him on my way to the door. Then I turned around. “I think that was an exceptionally efficient way to get me into your bed.”
“Wow, great. Can you remind me what I said?” He winked as he came towards me and put his hand on the small of my back to nudge me outside. “So I know how to do it the next time I meet another fantastic-looking woman I can’t wait to see naked.”
“Hang on,” I said. “Give me your wallet.”
“My what?”
“Wallet.”
He handed it over, an amused and curious look on his face. I peeked through it—some cash I didn’t care about, a condom. “I see you come prepared.” Hadn’t meant to make the pun, but both of us laughed anyway.
“I consider it a public service. You never know when a beautiful woman might need one to have sex with a guy who will do everything in his power to make sure she never regrets her decision. But if you’re worried that there’s only one, I have more back at my place.”
He was ten times more wicked than anyone I’d ever dated, the complete opposite of everything I used to look for in a man. Untamed, irreverent, demanding. Exactly what I needed. I wouldn’t fall in fake-love with a guy like this in a million years.
“You know that ‘Ribbed for her Pleasure’ doesn’t actually mean she’s all taken care of and you don’t have to do anything, right?” I asked.
“No one has put anything in my complaint box since I was fifteen. And I can explain that one—it was just a simple misunderstanding.”
“Uh huh. And now you are…” I pulled out his driver’s license. “Twenty-five. A decade of good behavior. Well done, Carson Bennett.”
“I didn’t say anything about good behavior.” He looked even better when he smiled.
After a deep, calming breath, I took a picture of his license with my cell phone, followed by a picture of him. Then I handed the wallet back and attached both photos to a text message that read, ‘I’m going home with this guy. If he’s a psycho, avenge my death. Thx,’ and showed it to him before I pressed send. “I sent it to a friend. He’s a cop.” It wasn’t true, but it sounded good.
“I didn’t mean that kind of bad behavior.”
“It’s just a warning—if you turn out to be more than just a selfish bastard, you should expect to be castrated.”
“Duly noted, painfully imagined, and will never be necessary. I’m only a selfish bastard. Promise.”
“Okay, then.” I started walking in the direction he pointed. Because I was going home with him. Oh my god, I’m really going to do this. Big breath. “One thing you should know about me is that I hate small talk. So don’t ask me what I do or where I’m from originally.”
He gave a small nod. “I don’t open doors or pull out chairs. And I rarely apologize.”
“Interesting.” Definitely selfish-bastard behavior. Cool. “I won’t lie and tell you how incredible you are if you aren’t.” I’d done that with every guy I’d ever been with and all I got in return was resentment and the need to sneak into the bathroom to finish myself off after he fell asleep.
“I can’t sleep with someone else in my bed,” he said.
“If you push my head down, expect to feel my teeth. Sharp teeth.”
“Ouch.” He grimaced, laughing. “Okay, my turn.” He paused for only a second. “Got one. I like to switch things up a lot because I see sex as a team sport—there are a lot of different positions on the field and we should have a chance to try all of them.”
“Good one. I really, really hate it when a guy thinks he knows what I like better than I do.”
“I love when a woman tells me exactly what she wants.” He slipped his finger through the belt loop of my jeans and pulled me along. “I also love it when she lets me do whatever I want to do.”
“There is a time and a place for a quickie, but not every time and not every place.”
“Well said. If I tell a woman she’s beautiful, I’m not lying. Seriously, why can’t women take a compliment?”
“Not enough practice, I guess.”
He stopped, keeping hold of my pants so I had to stop as well. Then he looked me in the eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
I felt the blush smack me in the face. I know I’m moderately attractive, but beautiful…? “I already agreed to sleep with you.”
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what I’m talking about.” He ran his thumb across my skin, along the thin space between my jeans and my shirt, his eyes never leaving my mouth. “Say thank you.”
I swallowed. “Thank you.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Better, but you’ll need more practice. If there’s not an app for it, there should be.” He started walking again. “Now say, ‘Carson, I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me for as long as you want to do it.’”
I laughed. “Nice try.”
“It was worth a shot.”
I couldn’t remember ever being this comfortable with someone I’d just met. Obviously a good thing, seeing as how I’d be having sex with him really soon. But—
“Do you do this a lot?” Oh my god. Even I heard the fear and insecurity in my
voice. Please, make it stop. Please?
“That’s a vague and serious-sounding question.” He led me towards a liquor store. Awesome idea—I was going to need a few drinks. But instead of going in, he leaned up against the glass and crossed his arms. “If you mean do I pick up a lot of women in coffee shops, then no. If you’re asking me if I have a lot of sex? You’d have to define ‘a lot’ and I would probably still say ‘not enough.’ But I’m always safe, and I get regular check-ups. If you’re asking me if I’m having a hard time deciding how fast I want to walk because part of me can’t wait to get you naked and the other part is actually having a great time hearing your do’s and don’ts, then I’d definitely say yes.”
“What would you say if I asked if you were honest?”
“I’d say, ‘Always’.” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “And then I’d tell you I really want to sleep with you, but you need to understand upfront that I don’t date or get involved. With anybody, not just you. If that’s not the same thing you want, then I will very happily continue this conversation all the way to your place where I will keep being honest and tell you that it was great to meet you but I have to say goodnight. So…” His eyebrows went up expectantly.
He was so far from being the perfect guy, and that was what made him so perfect for me. No expectations, no emotional crap, no frog.
“So…” I started walking again, not checking to see if he followed. “While I think it’s really hot when a guy talks dirty, certain terms must be agreed upon beforehand.”
Carson started speaking when he was a step behind me. “Oral sex is never obligatory, just very, very appreciated. That also means when I go down on a woman, it’s because I want to be there, and she better not get all shy about it. I hate that.”
“Nice.”
“Wait, there’s more to that one. A woman should love her body at least as much as I do.”
I liked that one a lot.
“Okay, your turn now,” he said with the most honest smile I’d seen in a really long time.
It took me a minute to think of another. And then I did—one that I’d never have admitted to anyone I knew. “A guy shouldn’t make a face or laugh when he hears a woman’s deepest, darkest fantasies.”
“What do you mean? Like what kind of fantasy?”
“I don’t know. Like that I want to try fooling around with another woman and be tied up and—”
“Fuck,” he groaned, then I did but for a different reason. I could tell from his expression that he’d deliberately set me up for that. And I’d completely fallen for it.
“That wasn’t nice.”
“True, but it was highly enlightening, don’t you think?”
“I can’t believe I just told you that.” Although, honestly, putting it out there was freeing. And horribly embarrassing.
“Me neither, but I’m really glad you did. Now walk faster.”
“I hope you’re not this hurried in all things.”
He stopped and turned to me, cupping my chin and leaning close. “I plan on exploring every curve of your body until you’re begging me to be inside you. Then I’m going to make you wait while I make absolutely sure I’ve been everywhere. When I’m ready, I’m going to take you. Slowly. I’ll set the pace, not you—not the first time, anyway.” He took a breath but, at some point, I’d forgotten how. “So should we keep power-walking to my place or would you rather take a casual stroll around the neighborhood?”
“Walking. I’m walking,” I said quickly. “Come on, we’re walking!”
His building had a doorman, the lobby was gorgeous, and I couldn’t wait to see what his apartment looked like. He didn’t seem like someone who could afford a place like this.
He flipped around as soon as we saw a middle-aged couple waiting for the elevator and arguing loudly. “Mood killer, for sure. Let’s take the stairs.”
He pulled me up three flights of stairs. I slammed into his back before the door to the stairwell had even closed behind me, and he dropped my hand as if it burned.
“What are you doing here?” he asked someone in front of him. I peeked around and saw an incredibly beautiful blonde standing next to what I assumed was the door to Carson’s apartment.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Shit, Anna. Now’s... You can’t just drop by whenever you want. We talked about this.”
All lust quelled, I stepped away from him. “I’ll see you around.”
“No, wait. Anna was—”
“Going to tell you about the call I just got from—”
“Enough, Anna,” he snapped. “I get it.” He ran a hand through his hair and came a step closer to me. “Can I get your number?”
“Jesus, Carson,” she grumbled. “Where do you find these women?” She leaned around him to look down her nose at me. “Do you charge by the hour or by the night, honey?”
“By the orgasm. I make a lot more that way.” I heard Carson laugh but kept my attention on the snob. “His name is Carson?” I asked dramatically. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure what to scream when I come. ‘Oh god’ is so impersonal, don’t you think?”
Anna’s look of offense was hysterical—she was the one who threw the stone. I wasn’t going to let anyone knock me down again—man, woman, or bitchy blonde.
“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but I usually stick to ‘baby’ because it’s a lot safer to go generic. Sooo awkward when you call out the wrong name, right? Wait, I should test it out.” I cleared my throat. “Carson, that’s so good,” I screamed. “Yes, yes, right there, Carson!” And then smiled. “It sounds good, don’t you think? You have a nice name, Carson. I like it.”
“Good, ’cause I like you.” He stared at me, his eyes traveling from my eyes to my lips and back again. “And I’m really looking forward to hearing you do that again.”
“There’s a first.” Anna chuckled. “Carson actually said something nice to a woman he’s fucking.”
“We’re not fucking,” I said. “Because you’re blocking the door.”
He wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck, pulled me close, and whispered, “I might be tempted to step in to defend your honor…if you weren’t so fucking good at doing it for yourself. But while it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen and that name thing was definitely the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, it’s not going to make her leave.”
“Then what will?” I mumbled.
Anna tapped her foot on the floor but didn’t move away from the door. “Are you going to make me wait in the hallway until you’re done with her, Carson?”
“Are you seriously giving me shit about how I live my life?”
“I’m not allowed to care?”
They started speaking over each other—stuff about bad timing, there not being a good time, priorities, and other things I couldn’t follow. They sounded an awful lot like the middle-aged couple arguing near the elevators, actually.
“I’m gonna go now,” I said, not knowing if either of them heard me. I didn’t run to the stairway, but it was tough, humiliated in a situation that should have meant nothing to me. The opinion of his ex or his fuck buddy or whatever Anna was shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t a competition. Thankfully, because if it was at all based on looks, I’d lose in the first three seconds. I’m the girl who has long hair just so it looks okay stuck up in a clip right out of the shower. Anna was the kind of girl who spent three hours drying and straightening her hair before she put it up in a clip.
Carson hadn’t promised me anything but a good time. And this wasn’t one. But it wasn’t the end of the world or even close to the worst thing that had happened to me this year, either. So, comparatively speaking, I’d get over it in no time at all.
He chased me, calling my name, but didn’t catch up until I’d reached the first-floor landing. He grabbed my arm and turned me towards him. “Anna is famous for saying shit she shouldn’t.”
“She can say whatever she wants to other people—I don’t care. But I dislike it whe
n people call me a whore.” I shrugged. “I didn’t actually know I disliked it until today because Anna’s the first who’s ever called me one, but now I know I should add it to the list of names I don’t want to be called.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, even though it wasn’t his fault.
“I thought you didn’t apologize.”
“Rarely. I rarely apologize.”
“It was nice to almost fuck you, Carson.”
“It was nice to almost fuck you, too.” He stepped closer, pushing me backwards with his hands on my hips. I stopped moving when I hit the wall but he didn’t, not until his body was flush to mine. “But I’m not letting you go until I get something out of it.”
“In the stairwell?”
“I’ll take you wherever, whenever.” He kissed me, slowly at first, giving us a chance to learn each other’s lips. Then it got deeper and I learned that he tasted incredible and masculine and was very possibly the best kisser I’d ever met. Because I could feel his passion, understand exactly what he’d be like in everything else—commanding, experienced, patient but only up to a point. I wanted to see him lose control, to be with him when it happened.
He ran his hand up my side and cupped my breast. I think I whimpered when the pressure disappeared. Thankfully, it showed up again, this time to grab hold of my hair and tilt my head back so he could get to my neck.
Everything moved in slow motion: his lips brushing my neck, his hands holding me right where he wanted me, his hips grinding against mine. It had been a few months since I’d been this close to an erection, but I didn’t remember them being that hard. He took my mouth again, pressing me tighter to the wall, a few too many layers of clothing separating us.
“Damn,” he said after breaking the kiss and putting his hands on the wall to either side of me, his eyes still closed. I couldn’t help staring at his lips, watching the way they moved, remembering the way they tasted. But the rest of him was just as gorgeous, so I wanted to taste all of that, too. “When I call you and invite you over, what are you going to say?”
“Um…” I swallowed and took a breath. “I think I’ll start with something like, ‘Is Anna still there?’”