21
HOLY FUCKBALLS
Carter
I SEE HER THE SECOND she walks through the door.
You can’t miss her. Gorgeous little thing that stills in the doorway, my heart stops beating at the sight of her.
I watch Emmett wrap her in his arms before he starts sliding her coat o, revealing the dress that took Olivia three trips to the mall to nd. Don’t ask me how I know that.
She’s stunning, but she always has been. She could be wearing my hockey bag zipped up to her neck with armhole cutouts and she’d still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad. I make a mental note to ask her to pose naked with my hockey equipment in the near future. I’m gonna take a fuckload of pictures of that woman. My phone’s gonna be full of Olivia.
But she’s not wearing a hockey bag. Fuck. No. This dress. Sweet, holy fuckballs, this dress.
“Shit.” I don’t know if it’s Garrett or Adam who breathes the only word I can think of. They’re both staring, brows slowly climbing their foreheads as they follow the line of her petite body down, down, down, and then back up, gazes lingering on her plunging neckline the same way mine does.
I gulp. “Yeah.”
Draped in crimson lace, Olivia looks as tempting and mouthwatering as a candy apple. She’s forbidden fruit, and I want to devour her.
I ght a groan as my eyes bounce around her perfectly hugged curves, the way the lace clings to her waist, slips down her luscious thighs, before owing out around her knees. She’s three inches higher in those sparkly gold heels that match the barrette in her hair, styled in thick waves.
There’s an air of condence about her tonight. Maybe it’s because that dress makes her feel as stunning as she is all that time, or maybe because we xed things last night. Maybe because she’s hell-bent on making me lose control, ready to watch with a smile. But if I had to guess by the simple rise and fall of her chest, I’d say she’s a little nervous underneath it all.
Me? I’m totally in control. I’ve got this.
I’m not goofy Carter tonight. I’m wearing an impenetrable mask she won’t be able to… penetrate? Fuck. I dunno. Now all I’m thinking about is
penetration.
Totally in control.
Except—fuck me—when she spins and ashes me the red ribbon that threads over the smooth, milky skin on her back, I die a little on the inside.
“I’m deceased,” I mutter, adjusting the quickly swelling lump between my legs. Not now, sword of thunder, I mentally tell my dick. Stand down, big buddy.
“She’s dressed to kill.” Adam’s gaze slides my way. “You should probably take that as a sign. She’s in control.” He sighs. “Girls are always in control.”
“I’m in control,” I growl lowly.
Because here’s the thing about me: I’m persistent. Fierce. Voracious and so boldly condent. When I set my sights on something I want, I don’t rest until I’ve got it. Olivia Parker is no dierent. I may have had her once, but once will never be enough, not with her. I want her over and over. I want to fucking own her, make her mine, every damn inch of her, for nobody but me.
I’m aware that’s a little caveman of me.
But here’s the other thing: I don’t fucking care.
Except then Olivia peeks at me from over her shoulder, dark lashes uttering, and she slowly—so damn slowly—skims her ngers over the curve of her hips, the swell of her round ass, the dip of her teensy waist, all while her lower lip slides between her teeth.
Fuck. I’m not in control. I’m not in control at fucking all.
Olivia Oooh, holy fuckballs. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.
He’s in a suit. A full suit. Three-piece, midnight blue. My God, it could not t him any more perfectly. Hugging his broad shoulders, tapered around his sharp, lean waist. Holy crap, those thick, muscular thighs. I remember those bad
boys pinning me to the mattress as he— I fan at my face with two appy hands.
I need to stop. I need to not. I need to… Crap, I don’t know. I think I need to mount that man in a bathroom.
“Hot?” Cara asks, whispering in my ear. She’s ethereal tonight in her skin- tight white lace, blonde hair falling in thick waves down her back, hips for days and an ass that matches. Like always, my best friend looks perfect.
“Yep. Super hot in here. Is the furnace on? You should ask them to turn it down. Air-conditioning, maybe. Hot.”
“We’re in the middle of a deep freeze that Vancouver hasn’t seen in years, you have no heat at home, and you want them to turn on the air-conditioning?” She follows my darting eyes and smirks at my still-apping hands. “Maybe you need someone to put out your re.”
“Huh?” My eyes snap to her, then back at Carter, and nearly roll out of their sockets when he catches me staring, and unfortunately apping. “Help me,” I beg Cara. “I’m supposed to be in control. He’s the one that’s supposed to give in.”
“I’ll tell you what I can do.” She stops a waiter with a tray of champagne, pours one glass into another, then repeats. She swipes both full-to-the-brim glasses o the tray and hands one to me. “I can get you drunk.”
We clink our glasses, and as that rst sip of bubbly slides down my throat, I let out a deep breath. By the time I’m nished with my second glass, Cara disappears to mingle. I should slow down, but then Garrett ambles over with a frosty beer in each hand, and who would I be to turn that down?
He wraps me in a hug, one hand on my lower back when he releases me, and I swear his gaze lights with fear when it darts over my shoulder, right before he
yanks his touch back.
“You hockey men sure clean up nice, don’t you?” I x the knot of his tie, hanging low and too far to the right. “It’s nice to see you.”
He’s got such a great grin, so happy and carefree, kinda like a cute dog. “Yeah, we’ve missed seeing you around. Some slightly more than others.” His mouth dips to my ear. “Hey, wanna spike Carter’s blood pressure?”
“What did you have in mind?”
He sets our beers down and holds out one hand, a sneaky smile spreading.
“Dance with me.”
With a giggle, I slip my hand into his and follow him to the dance oor. His palm rests gently on my lower back as he twirls us across the space, the heat of Carter’s gaze touching my spine everywhere it goes.
“Can’t take his eyes o you,” Garrett whispers. “Looks like he’s contemplating which of my body parts he should remove rst.” When I laugh, he grins, spinning me out, pulling me back in. “You been keeping up with the team?”
“Of course. Your goal against Vegas on Tuesday? Chef’s kiss.”
His face lights, chest swelling with pride. “Yeah? Right through the ve-hole.
What about you? Carter told me you coach the girls’ volleyball team at your
school.”
“He talks about me?”
“When he’s not being a mopey ballsack? Yeah, he talks about you all the time.”
I can’t imagine a mopey version of Carter. He’s so upbeat all the time, charismatic and boisterous. A sudden wave of guilt rushes over me.
“Yeah.” Garrett taps the corner of my frown. “That’s exactly how he looked.
You two are made for each other.”
“I—I don’t—are you—my volleyball team lost in the seminals, and do you think we’re really made for each other? He’s Carter Beckett and I’m Olivia Parker and I’m so short and he’s so tall so are we even all that compatible, body parts that don’t line up and stu like that?”
I take back what I said about his cute puppy grin. This one is all jackass.
“That was the most impressive round of word vomit I’ve ever heard. But I’m
gonna need you to get your head in the game. I’ve got money riding on Carter
being the rst to crack, not you.”
“I’m scared you made the wrong bet.”
“I believe in you, Ollie.”
That’s great, but as the song ends and he leaves me, it’s becoming more and more clear I don’t believe in myself. I’m unraveling, and I haven’t even spoken to the man responsible for my demise.
I sigh, scooping my beer o the bar, intent on nding a corner to hide in so I can end this night without any more self-inicted damage.
Of course, I bounce o something hard on my way, my drink splattering over the edge of my glass.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I’m a mess tonight. I wasn’t watching where I was going.
Did I get you… wet… Oh-God-shit.” Those last three words come rushing out in one pu of air.
“Oh God shit,” Carter hums, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a crystal glass. “That’s a new one.”
My legs are shaking. I’m not joking. And when Carter brushes his ngers over my collarbone, sweeping a curl o my shoulder and letting it slip through his ngers, I squeeze my eyes shut.
What the fuck is happening? I was perfectly ne last night, and so utterly in control when I walked through this door earlier. Is it the alcohol? It’s the alcohol. Carter’s denitely not making me weak. He’s not… winning.
“You got your hair cut.”
I smack my glass against my head, which I grab with both hands, as if to ask,
this hair? “Today.”
“Today?”
“Yeah, I got it done today.” I only realize I’m borderline yelling, the way he did the other night, when his brows quirk. I swallow and try again, this time in a whisper. “I got it cut this morning.” I make scissors with my right hand and snap
them twice. “Snip-snip.”
Oh God. Carter might be winning.
“Hm.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, the tip of his nger skimming my sparkly gold barrette. His eyes don’t leave mine as he swirls the liquid in his glass
and tosses it back. He sets the empty glass on the bar before taking my half-full
beer and ditching that too.
And he walks forward.
Not walks. He prowls. He prowls forward, and I slink backward until I’ve slinked all I can slink.
His ngers ghost over the dip of my waist as he dips his face to mine, and my heart slams against my sternum like it hopes he might kiss me. Instead, his lips pause at my ear.
“Excuse me, Miss Parker.” His breath is warm and spicy with sweet notes of vanilla and caramel as it rolls down my neck, and his gaze falls to my lips as they part on a shuddering inhale.
The wall behind me suddenly opens, and I stumble into complete darkness.
Carter ips the light switch, illuminating the extravagant bathroom we’ve
entered.
And then he hits the lock.
My heart sputters like Red Rhonda, my slowly dying car.
Broad hands seize my hips as he spins me toward the vanity, slapping my palms down on the counter. My exposed skin singes at the feel of him, the heavy weight that presses into my lower back. The tips of his ngers dance up my forearms, circling my biceps when he grips me. His nose brushes up my neck, settling at the shell of my ear.
“You started o so good,” he murmurs. “So strong. You walked in here like a woman with all the condence in the world, batting these lashes, running your hands over these fucking curves, and I thought for sure I was done. All my self- control ew out the window.”
He drags his mouth down my neck, one hand splayed over my belly, the other gliding down the outside of my thigh until he sts the hem of my dress. The lace scrapes softly against my skin as he pulls it up, and I arch away from his body, pushing myself toward his hand.
Fuck control and fuck slow. I just want him to fuck me.
Dark eyes crash into mine through the mirror, and when he smiles against my shoulder, I know he’s got me. He knows too.
“But then you gave yourself away. You’re adorable when you’re a mess, you know that?”
The pad of his thumb traces the edge of my silk panties, and a trembling breath escapes my lips, sparks uttering throughout me.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”
A satised hum crawls up his throat, and his mouth opens on my neck. I sink into him, ngers nding his perfectly styled waves.
Then he pulls back, taking his scorching touch with him, leaving me gaping in the mirror.
I twist, watching in horror as he adjusts the lump in his pants, straightens his tie, and xes his hair. “What are you doing?”
“Heading back out there.”
“But you… you said… I said…”
“You said you wanted me to touch you. And maybe I will. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“After we go for lunch.”
“L-lunch?”
He nods, tucking his phone in my hands. “Address, please. So I can pick you
up tomorrow for our date.”
“I—”
“Now, Olivia.”
Oh look. The feminism has left my body.
I scramble to enter my address under the weight of his stare, and when I’m done, he sweeps me into the noisy hallway.
Tipping my chin, he presses a tender kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You’re fucking stunning, Miss Parker.”
Cara launches herself through a horde of people as I watch Carter disappear.
She grips my shoulders and shakes, making my head bobble. “What happened?
You guys were in there for, like, ten minutes.” Her gaze travels down, noting my ushed cheeks, my rumpled dress. “Oh my God. You had sex in the fucking bathroom! I knew it! Garrett!” she screams into the crowd. “You owe me, Em, and Adam a hundred bucks each!”
“Fuck that!” he screams back from the abyss. “There’s no way she gave it up that quickly!”
IT’S BEEN THREE HOURS AND I’m wondering when Carter’s going to cash in on the dance he made me promise him last night. There’s no shortage of hockey players who want to dance tonight, that’s for sure. I’ve been spinning around the dance oor all night, but the man I really want to dance with seems perfectly content to watch me from afar.
I’m exhausted, a little dizzy, and tipsy enough that I can’t stop giggling. If he doesn’t ask me to dance soon, I’m going to be asleep in the coat closet.
All he’s given me is lingering stares, smiles hidden behind the rim of his glass, grazing touches over the small of my back as he leans around me at the bar to order a new drink. I’m on edge, which is exactly where he wants me.
“Your feet must be killing you by now,” Adam says as we sway back and forth, my hand in his. “Have you taken a break?”
“You guys don’t seem to have that word in your vocabulary.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
“I can’t wait to get home and climb into a bubble bath.”
“With a good book and a glass of wine?”
“Maybe sans wine.” I’m sure my ushed cheeks say it all. “I’ve had my fair share tonight.”
Adam twirls me out and pulls me back in, laughter shining in his eyes as they ick over my shoulder. “I love making that man jealous.”
He moves us in a slow circle so that I can see Carter, perched against a wall with a handful of his teammates. His eyes bounce around me and Adam, the positioning of our hands—which is pretty damn innocent; the man has a girlfriend, though she’s not here—before coasting back to me.
A crooked grin blooms on his face, pulling in his deep dimples, and he sets his glass down, straightening o the wall.
Adam chuckles. “About damn time. He’s been trying to convince us all night he’s in control.” His blue gaze dips to mine, his smile so full of kindness. “I’m really happy you two are giving this a go. He’s been hung up on you since day
one, singing nonstop. He’s so damn excited to spend time with you tomorrow.
The rest of us are excited for him to stop whining.”
“Don’t listen to Adam,” Carter’s low voice rumbles behind me. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“He blew up our group chat the second you drove away last night, Ollie; trust me.”
“All right.” Carter steps between us. “Enough of that. My turn.”
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to cash in on your dance,” I say as he hauls me against his chest, one hand on my back, the other holding mine.
“I wanted to be your last.”
“Mmm. Your friends are tattling on you.”
“Maybe they’re full of shit.”
“Maybe.” I twine my ngers in the waves at the nape of his neck. “But I don’t think they are. I think you missed me, and I think you bragged about last night to your friends.”
Forest green eyes gleam. “Some of my arrogance is rubbing o on you.”
“I bet you’d like to rub something else o on me.”
Carter guaws, and it feels like my single greatest accomplishment ever. “So naughty, Miss Parker. It must be the heels. The added height gives you added condence.” His mouth dips to my ear. “But you know what happens when you’ve been naughty, don’t you? You get punished.”
“Mmm. By who? You?”
“Only me. Do you want to be on your knees when you get punished, or over my lap?”
My heartbeat thrums, settling between my legs, and butteries erupt in my stomach, swirling so violently I feel dizzy. I need to go home before I accidentally beg this man to fuck me on the bathroom sink. I have higher standards than
that.
Or do I? No, I don’t think I do.
“What’s the matter, Olivia? You seem like you’re wavering.”
I press my lips together. “Nope.” Yes. “I’m just… tired. Super tired. Time to go home.”
Before I can change my mind, I kiss his stunned cheek and jet toward the coat closet. Once I’ve said my good-byes to the future bride and groom, I brave the cold. There’s a fresh dusting of snow covering the sidewalks, kissing my toes, and my teeth clatter as I pull up the Uber app on my phone.
A lavish limo stops out front, and when the driver opens the back door and gestures inside, my brows jump. I point at myself, and he smiles, nodding.
“Oh, no. You must have me confused with someone else. I’m—”
“Get in.” Carter tugs my phone from my hand, sweeping me toward the limo
with his hand on my back.
“But I—”
“Get in the car, Olivia.” His leather-gloved thumb brushes my trembling lower lip. “Your toes are going to fall o, and I want to make sure you get home safe.”
“Yeah. Okay.” My head’s bobbing but my feet aren’t moving, so the man grips my waist, lifts me o the ground, and places me on the backseat. He slides in next to me, spreading his legs, and when he recites my address into a speaker, I snort. “Are you checking to make sure I didn’t give you a fake address?”
“You wouldn’t do that. You like me too much.”
Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, I stare straight ahead at the divider that hides us from the driver, ignoring Carter as he pull his gloves o, lays them over his lap, and fucks around on his phone. But ten minutes in, he hasn’t paid me a damn bit of attention, and if I don’t get to be in control, neither does he.
“Are you seriously checking the sports updates right now?”
A sneaky smile tugs at his lips. “No.”
“You’re being an ass.”
“You don’t mean that.”
I sling one leg over the other. “You’re right. You don’t know how to look at me without losing control. I get it. This is easier for you.”
There it is.
He tucks his phone away, electric green eyes dropping to my lips as he moves toward me, lithe and deadly. “You saying I don’t know how to play the game,
Parker?”
“Apparently not this one, Beckett.”
“Think you can play better than me?”
I check my nails. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”
His hand wraps around my throat, shoving me down to my back as he hovers above me. His hips drop to mine, the tips of his ngers searing my skin like an open ame as they drag up my thigh, slipping beneath my dress.
His mouth paints the column of my throat with wet kisses, nipping the edge of my jaw, lingering at my ear. “Prove it.”
A raw ache unfurls between my legs as he pulls away, grazing my clit through my panties when he shifts my dress back into place.
He spreads back out in his seat, looking way too damn pleased with himself, smiling down at the motherfucking sports updates again.
The car rolls to a stop seconds later, and I jump out, slamming the door behind me.
“Ollie,” he calls, chasing after me. I hate that it comes out a chuckle, and I hate even more when I slip on a patch of ice on my porch steps, sending me ying backward, right into his stupid, hard chest. He sets me down at my door, and I’ve never wanted to wipe a grin o someone’s face more than I do right now. “Did I win?”
“No,” I grumble, kicking o my heels. “I haven’t kissed you.”
Still grinning, still way too smug. “We’re supposed to be taking this slow.”
“I know.”
“So no kissing.”
“Right.”
“Would it make you feel better if you won?”
“I don’t—”
Carter swallows my words with his mouth, his ngers plunging through my hair as my back hits the closet in the front hall. His hand slides up my leg, beneath my dress, wrapping around my bare hip as I grind myself into him.
“Fuck slow,” he growls. “I can’t do slow. Not with you.”
God, I don’t want slow. I want to crack this whole thing wide open, the chemistry, the passion, the re. I want to give him all of me and take all of him.
Carter pulls away, ghting to breathe as his gaze rakes over me. Something blooms there, something vulnerable and cautious. “I… I missed you while you
were gone.”
With my hand on his cheek, I promise, “I missed you while I was gone too.”
There’s that megawatt grin, perfect teeth, and deep dimples, and before he leaves, he dashes back down to the limo, jumps over the icy step, and returns a moment later with a small blue box that he presses into my hand.
He places a lingering kiss on my lips. “Sleep tight, Ollie girl.”
I stand over the kitchen counter after he leaves, lifting the lid on the blue box.
Inside is a cupcake, and the tiny ag that sticks out of the frosting tells me it’s maple pecan, topped with maple buttercream frosting and bacon crumble.
The note scrawled under the lid sends my heart into overdrive.
I got you the most bacon-y one. xo Carter
