Carter Reed 2

She was challenging me. Good. “You failed my test just by being in front of me. If you’re going hand-to-hand with a guy, especially someone who knows how to fight and is bigger than you, you won’t win. You come sideways. You come from behind. You catch him off guard.”

“How do I do that?”

“Distract him.”

She looked down at her boobs and puffed out her chest. “With these? It’s you. Besides taking my clothes off, I don’t know how to distract you.”

“Not me.” I fought back a grin. “Though your girls look especially good right now.” They strained in her sports bra and sweat-soaked shirt. They perked up even more under my gaze.

She cursed. “Stop it. Teach me how to fight.”

“Know your opponent.” I tapped the side of my head. “Get in here. Figure out what he wants. If it is knowledge, attention, his ego stroked—whatever it is, you give it to him. And you get a weapon. As soon as his guard is dropped, you hit him hard. You put all your weight behind that weapon. You have to make the first contact successful. He needs to be knocked unconscious, or he’s ready, and he’s pissed. If you don’t have a gun, he’ll get you. That’s a guarantee. Don’t set yourself up for failure.”

She sighed. “That’s easier said than done. I don’t know the Bartels—”

“Yes, you do. What do they want?”

“Me.”

Ice plunged through my veins at her answer. Hell no. That wouldn’t happen.

“So use that,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. “Use me. They want me. They want information. You can give that to them, but once the wall is dropped—”

She nodded. She was so eager. “I got it. Disarm. Weapon. Crack. Knock him unconscious. I can do that.”

I should have taught her some moves, maybe some kicks, lunges, how to twist and evade, but as I kept looking at her, the idea of teaching her faded fast and the idea of taking her to bed quickly replaced it. Fuck. I wanted her. Every day. Every night. She was mine.

Her chest heaved up and down. The rest of her body was soaked in sweat, and she’d even taped her hands, like I did. She’d gone through so much, and the idea that she was training to go through more knotted my own hands into fists.

She noticed my reaction. Her eyes lingered on my hands. “Carter?”

“You shouldn’t have to learn how to do this.” My voice dipped low and hoarse. It was my job to protect her. I wasn’t doing that job well enough. “I’m so goddamn sorry for this.”

“Stop.” Her shoulders dropped, and she came to stand in front of me. Her hands rested on my hips, and she looked up at me. Her eyes were warm and soft. Her lips opened, and she swallowed. I saw concern in her eyes. “Carter, I’m not in the life because of you. Stop blaming yourself. I came to you. Remember? My roommate was being raped. My brother was killed. I killed Jeremy Dunvan. Me. You wanted me to see past Ben’s manipulations, remember? I did. I saw the other side of the world, and I’ve gotten myself prepared. All of this isn’t because of you. You’re forgetting one thing. I wouldn’t have my sister if it wasn’t for you. She found me because the media is obsessed with you. I have you to thank for my sister.”

There was still a bruise at the corner of her eye. It was tiny and yellow, but it was there. It shouldn’t have been. “Emma,” I whispered, dropping my head to rest my forehead against hers. “I’ll get her back. I promise.”

“Stop.” Her hand went to my lips. “Stop.”

Her eyes darkened, and the need for her spiked in me. I reached for her without thinking and hoisted her in the air. Her legs parted as I peeled off her shirt and bra. She fit against me, like she was made for me. Grasping the back of her head, I pulled her lips down to mine. One touch from them, and I was in a desert. I needed more, just more of everything. My blood was damn boiling. As I backed her up to the wall, Emma arched backward, pushing her breasts against my chest. I reached out to lock the door, and after that, it was just her. All of her. All of me.

I kissed everywhere. I caressed all over her. My god, I loved this woman. Cupping her breast, I ran my hand over her nipple. It sprang up, and she gasped.

“Carter,” she moaned, grinding into me.

I knew. I know. I needed to be in her. She was beautiful. So damn beautiful. I wanted to savor every time with her. I wanted to relish every inch of her. Setting her against the wall, I knelt and kissed my way down. Her lips. Her chin. Her throat. Her chest. Between her breasts. Each of her breasts. My tongue swept around her nipple, and I sucked before continuing down to her stomach. My hands cradled her hips, and I felt her starting to tremble as my mouth lingered there.

She grabbed a handful of my hair and held on, like she was guiding me. A jolt of pleasure surged in me, and I lowered her shorts, then took her in my mouth. She bucked under me and another moan came from her. Her whole body shuddered now. I kept licking and sucking. I loved this woman. I was going to love every part of her.

“Carter.” She tried to pull me up. “Please.”

I thrust my tongue inside her, but she’d had enough. She jerked on my hair again, so I stood and used my fingers. They thrust inside her, going deep, and lifting her off the floor. One of her legs wrapped around my waist as I leaned over her, my fingers going in and out. I held her weight and kept her still. I kept moving. In and out. Deeper, then pulling out, plunging back in. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">