Carver sits back on the couch, his feet up and looking like the best kind of meal in his white long-sleeved shirt with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and showing off his strong forearms. My mouth waters just looking at him, but when he raises those dark stormy eyes to meet mine, my heart shatters.
He raises off the couch and walks toward me. His heavy stare remains locked on mine, and with each passing step, the tension in the room intensifies until he’s right before me. He passes so closely that the soft material of his shirt gently grazes my arm, and as he goes, that manly scent teases my senses.
I spin around, watching as he goes. “Seriously?” I demand. “That’s it? That’s all I’m going to get from you?”
Carver scoffs and turns on his heel, stepping back into me. “What do you want me to say, Winter? You want me to wrap my arms around you and tell you that it’s all going to be okay? You want me to just forget that you killed my father on a fucking dance floor in front of every member of Dynasty? You want me to pretend that you didn’t fuck everything up for me?”
“I—”
“No. It ain’t going to happen. You can’t just wave your magical little pussy around and make everything go away. That’s not how the real world works, babe. You forced my hand, and yet somehow, you come out of this looking like the innocent little victim.”
“Carver, just—”
He grabs me, pushing me up against the wall and stepping right into me, so close that I can feel the rapid beat of his chest under my hand. “Every time I see your fucking face all I can think about is my hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it until you couldn’t fucking breathe. That’s what you did to me.”
He stares right into my eyes, both of us breathing hard until Grayson steps in behind him. “Come on, bro. Take a walk. You both need to cool off.”
Carver clenches his jaw, absolutely hating when one of the guys tells him when to back off, but right now, I’m grateful for it. My fingers curl into a fist, capturing his shirt in my hand, knowing that it’s only seconds before he pulls away, but I’m not done with him yet. I need to get him back in the gym where I can work out all this anger. Maybe we both need to take our frustrations out on one another.
Carver’s gaze drops to my hand tangled in his shirt and the corner of his mouth kicks up into an amused smirk, and just like that, he knows that he’s gotten under my skin. His eyes slice back to mine, seeing just how desperate I am for my pound of flesh, and the way he scoffs tells me that no matter what, he’ll never give it to me.
He tears away from me, and my fingers instantly come loose from his shirt as I stare after him, the anger raging inside me. I watch as he walks away and just a moment before I storm his back, intent on ramming my fist straight up his toned ass, Grayson adjusts himself, obscuring my view of his friend. “Go walk it off,” he tells me. “Why don’t you take that bike of yours for a ride. It’s been a while since she’s had a good run.”
My fists pulse at my sides as I watch Carver over Grayson’s shoulder disappearing down the hall. “She can ride that thing all she wants, but when she fucks it up, I’m not buying her another one.”
The fuck? Another one?
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand, stepping out from around Grayson and storming after Carver as I hear both King and Cruz sigh at the table, each of them slowly getting to their feet and stepping toward us, more than ready to hold me hostage when I decide to annihilate Carver.
Carver stops and slowly turns to face me, a cocky as fuck smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You fucking heard me, babe. What do you think it means?”
My jaw clenches as I desperately try to keep myself from shoving my hand right through his ribcage and squeezing his fragile little heart just like they do in ‘The Vampire Diaries.’ I step into him and shove my hands against his chest, only doing more harm to myself than to him. “I won that bike fair and square,” I tell him, my fury rippling beneath the surface. “You’ve already taken my freedom away from me, you’re not taking my fucking bike too.”
“Won it in a bet?” he laughs. “That’s fucking rich coming from you. Do you honestly think some guy is going to bet you his bike and let you ride away with it into the sunset? Come on, Winter. You’re not that fucking daft. That’s a twenty-thousand-dollar bike and the helmet just happens to fit you perfectly.”