C is for Carter

She was right. It was getting so hard to hide this, and on top of the difficulty, it meant I wasn’t able to actually spend the time with her that I wanted to in group situations. That alone was probably enough to make me cut the month deadline a little shorter.

I was falling for her. That was the problem. I was falling in love with her, and it was becoming increasingly obvious to me. Which was scary as hell. I hadn’t loved anyone since Giselle, and I hadn’t even heard from her since the day we broke up. The very idea of being in love with another person was so foreign I hadn’t even let myself think it was possible. Much less thinking it could happen as fast as it was happening with Lauren.

Finally, I made my way to the food truck and made an order. The sandwich that came back to me was nothing short of magic, and I ate it off to the side as I watched the party happening around me. Lauren floated around between groups of people she knew, a vision in her white dress and long hair cascading down on her shoulders. She was like a goddess, and I admired her for as long as I could before rejoining the group.

As the party wound down, the group started to split up, and Lauren and I made our way to our vehicles at the same time as Harleigh and Brett. Lauren pulled away first, toward her place, and then I pulled away toward my own. I wound my way around in a circle and found Lauren waiting for me in a parking lot of a drugstore and smiled. She had the same idea I did.

Lauren followed me back to my place, and when she pulled in behind me, she barely had time to close the door before I was pulling her into my arms and pressing my lips against hers. I could have taken her right there in the driveway, but it was getting chilly. I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

“Is that code for not watching a movie at all?” she asked.

“You know me so well,” I said, grinning.

“Well, if that’s the case, then why bother with the living room? Let’s just put something on in your bedroom.”

“Fair enough.”

I led her inside, and she disappeared into the restroom while I went to the kitchen. I pulled down a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses before heading into the bedroom and waiting for her. When the door opened, my jaw dropped.

She was wearing one of my old T-shirts, so long on her that it came halfway down her thighs. With the bedroom lights low, the bathroom light shone behind her and created a silhouette that showed off her stunning figure through the thin white fabric. She was clearly not wearing anything underneath.

“Wine?” I asked as she approached the bed slowly.

“I’ll take a sip,” she said, grinning.

I poured two glasses and handed her one. She tipped it back and took a deep sip, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she handed me the glass, and I sat it on the table beside the bed. I was sitting with my back against the wall, my legs out in front of me. My cock was thick and hard in my pants as I gazed at her soft, milky skin as her shirt lifted when she tipped the glass back and stayed that way when she looked back at the television.

“I don’t see anything on yet,” she said.

I picked up the remote and turned it on, flipping over to the streaming app and hitting Play on the first thing that popped up, all without moving my eyes from hers. Lauren giggled and reached for the remote. I handed it to her, and she placed it on the nightstand beside the wineglass.

“Better?” I asked.

“Much,” she said.

I reached my hand out for her, and she climbed onto the bed, straddling me and moving her lips to mine. My cock strained in my pants for her hot core just above it, and I let my hands roam to her ass and squeeze.

20

LAUREN

My phone started ringing early at work a couple of days later. I have gotten accustomed to the phone calls by that point. It wasn’t something I wanted to be used to, and I wished it would just end, but every day brought more of the same thing. Though, I had to give it to Ashton. At least he was keeping things fresh by never calling at the exact same time and always managing to add new and ever-increasing layers of creepiness to the messages he was leaving me.

Maybe that was what he was going for. And if it was, he achieved his goal. If, however, he was trying to be romantic and appeal to my emotions so that I would fall in love with him and want him back, he was failing miserably. Beyond miserably.