Hollywood Prince (Hollywood Royalty 3)

“Of course,” I answer. Laughing, I release him and step out of the shorts. I pick them up and take them with me to the couch, stopping to grab the cup of coffee he made for me.

I sit on the couch with my feet curled up under me and take my first sip. Carter comes over and sits by my knees slouched down and watching the water with his own coffee in his hand. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was thinking I could do some laundry and maybe get some sleep,” I tell him, looking over at him.

“Let’s go out for dinner,” he says, sitting up and grabbing the bowl of berries and handing it to me. I grab a strawberry and bite down, savoring the sweetness as it hits my tongue. “I want to go out for dinner.”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “The press will be all over you. You have been really quiet for the past three weeks, so they are waiting for a Carter Johnson sighting. You and I both know they are waiting for something salacious to report on.”

“So what? I won’t do anything bad. I’m going to a restaurant to eat a meal with a woman, and I’m leaving with the same woman,” he points out. “It’s a business dinner.”

“I don’t know,” I say softly, thinking of a million reasons why we shouldn’t but knowing it’ll just take one sound reason to convince me to go.

“I want to take you out on a date,” he says. “I want to go out with you and sit at a table and eat. Maybe hold your hand in the car.”

“It’s just not that easy, Carter.” I look at him, and he grabs his own strawberry.

“It is that easy,” he argues. “I want to take you out on a date. What if we go to a quiet restaurant?”

I tilt my head, taking him in. “I just want to take you out,” he says softly. “I want to go out to eat with you. I’m not saying that we go there and fuck on the table.” I shake my head and roll my eyes. “It’s one meal.” He takes my coffee from my hand and places it on the table in front of him. “We don’t even have to order an appetizer.” He pulls me onto his lap, and I straddle him. “We can even order before we get there.” He pushes the hair away from my shoulder on one side, then leans in and kisses my neck. “I just want to be out with you.” He repeats the action on my other side. “Please.”

“Fine,” I tell him, giving in to him even though I know it might not be the best thing. But when he smiles, I know that it’ll be worth it. “I do have to go home.”

“Okay, let me take a shower, or we can shower together, and then we can go to your house,” he says, and it’s almost like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I don’t have time to answer him before he stands up with me holding on to him. My legs wrap around his waist and my arms wrap around his neck. The shower really doesn’t go as planned. I mean, if you planned to stay in the water fucking until the water was so cold it felt like ice, then our plan succeeded. To go home, I put on his shorts and tie the waist in a knot on the side.

When we get into my apartment, I open all the windows to clear out the stale air from the past two weeks. Opening the drapes, I let the sun in. He goes to the couch and sits down, grabbing the remote and making himself at home.

“There is water in the fridge and nothing else really,” I tell him and look at him kick off his boots and lie down on the couch, turning on the news. He lies there in his gray chinos that are just tight enough with a white T-shirt and black jacket. Grabbing his phone and going on Instagram, he then looks up at me. “You finally accepted my follow request.”

I roll my eyes at him. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I tell him and then see him looking at his phone and smiling.

“Scenery pictures, my ass,” he says. “This picture of you in the ocean with your back to the camera looks like you’re topless,” he says, trying to zoom in on the picture. “I think I’m going to report it.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say and walk the rolling suitcase to my room. Opening it, I put a load in the washer, then undress and change into my own shorts and T-shirt. I walk out to the living room and see that he is sleeping, and the television is watching him. I walk back into my bedroom and look at the time; it’s already five, and our reservations are at six thirty. I fix my hair in the bathroom, leaving it loose and in beachy waves, and leave my makeup light like every other day. I walk into my closet and grab my white jean capris. I grab my black strapless bra and then the black off the shoulder ruffled loose shirt with sleeves that flow to mid-arm. I grab my new black strappy Louboutins my father just sent me, zipping the back closed. I stand and then look in the mirror. Grabbing my black Chanel purse, I switch my stuff and when I look at the clock, I see it’s time to go. I find him still sleeping, and I go back and forth with letting him sleep or waking him.