Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

“Are you sore from last night?” he asks.

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” I assure him.

Carter smirks. “I wasn’t offering to stop.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Of course you weren’t.”

“Take out your pony tail. I like your hair down.”

As I reach back to pull the elastic band out and free my hair from the heavy pony tail, I murmur sarcastically, “Yes, master.”

Naturally, Carter is not offended by my playful rebuff—he relishes it. “Damn right.”

“I’ve never met anyone who could say things that make me want to smack them, but also kiss them. You’re the first.”

“That’s because when I say it, you know we’re on the same side.”

“Are we on the same side?” I ask lightly, sliding down so that I’m lying on top of him, my hair down around my shoulders now.

“Of course we are,” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to caress the ball of my shoulder, then playing with a lock of my hair. “Believe me, Zoey, it’s easy to tell when you’re on my bad side. You haven’t been since the first time I actually saw you, volleying back and forth with me in the middle of your greatest humiliation. You know when to fight and when to stand down. You’re perfect for me.”

“Do you want me to fight tonight?” I inquire.

Carter shakes his head. “Nah. I want to make love to you tonight.”

His words make my tummy bottom out. He’s saying all the nice things tonight, and I like it. Suspicion whispers at the back of my mind though, trying to convince me he’s saying nice words because he knows he needs to, just to melt away my reasonable doubts.

I don’t want to let suspicion ruin this, but I don’t want to turn a blind eye, either. Looking at his chest instead of his face, playing with the fabric of his T-shirt, I ask, “How do I know you’re not playing me like you play everyone else?”

“You don’t,” he says, simply.

I meet his gaze. “That’s scary, you know.”

“Anything that isn’t safe can be scary,” he states. “I’ll never be the safe bet, Zoey.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I just…” I try to think of how to explain the simplest thing in the world, that like all people entering into a new relationship, I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want him to smash my heart into pieces so small, it will never be the same, and land a massive blow to my pride on top of it, because the red flags were out in the open, blowing in the breeze, and I ignored all of them to try to connect with him.

“You just need to start trusting me,” he finishes for me.

“Trust the scary, unpredictable sociopath?” I ask lightly, leaning down to kiss him to take any potential sting out of my words.

Carter reaches up and grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging me off him and rolling me on my back. “Not a sociopath.”

“Right,” I murmur. “You’re just manipulative, fine with exploiting and violating the rights of others, callously disregarding—”

Rather than allow me to continue my diagnosis, Carter kisses me. Then he finally undresses, flinging his clothes onto the floor with mine and coming back down on top of me, this time, naked.

“I know we joke about this from time to time, but I need you to know it’s a joke. If you think I’m pathological, you’re never going to trust me.”

“Girlfriend Zoey agrees that what you said makes sense. Watchdog Zoey says of course it’s true—you need me to trust you so you can keep manipulating me and getting your way while doin’ whatever the hell you want.”

“I wasn’t born this way,” he assures me. “I used to be more normal, then I realized the world sucks, everyone in it sucks, and I needed to toughen up and look out for myself, because no one else is gonna look out for me. Can’t be a sociopath, because they’re born, not made. My brain wasn’t wired this way.”

That’s the most revealing thing he has ever said to me. “You rewired it. That’s a lot of work. Why?”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is, I protect myself and my own interests. You’re one of my interests. You’re safe. I want you; I’m not going to hurt you. If I just wanted some dopey doormat I could cheat on, I could find one, easily. That’s not what I want, and I’d never try to turn you into one. I only cut down people I don’t like or don’t give a shit about. You don’t fall into either category.”

Cracking a smile as I look up at him, I tease, “You saying you care about me, Mahoney?”

Picking up the teasing gauntlet while imprisoning me with his body, he says, “Maybe a little bit.”

He’s still a little scary despite his reassuring words, because he’s right—he’ll never be the safe bet, and maybe that means I’ll always be aware of his capacity for damage. Maybe he’s feeding me lies, and they taste better than the truth, so I want to swallow them, even though it will undoubtedly mean trouble later.