Donovan (Face-Off 3)

“I needed time to think. You were killing me with all your rules and bullshit. I was through with it. I wanted you in my life without all the drama, and I honestly didn’t think you were capable of being with me without playing the game. You put me so far out of my comfort zone, and for some reason, I went along with it. I live a very controlled life. Everything I do is because I planned it out that way. Then, you come storming through the front door at Tyler’s house and take me by surprise. I had no idea this would ever be more than sex. That’s all I had wanted from you when we first met.”

“You don’t think I know that? The reason I play these games with men is that they see me and think I’m just something cute to dangle on their arms and fuck when they please. I’m never the girl they want to keep around. But I don’t want to be like my mother. She was a trophy wife for my father, nothing more. They have no relationship and nothing in common. The two of them spend more time apart than together, and I don’t want to live that way. I was testing you to see if you would hang in there long enough to claim your reward. It took you long enough, but you did.”

“And I haven’t looked back since,” he finishes, with a smile on his lips. Carter twists my curls between his fingers. “I love you, Sydney. I neve

r thought I was capable of loving a woman until I met you.”

“I love you, too, big guy.” I hold onto his shoulder and lean forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Does that mean I have your permission to write this book?”

“Yes, but on one condition.”

“Anything,” I say, without hesitation.

“You cannot mention anything about my family or my past. Nothing personal.”

“I can do that. After all, I do write fiction for a living. I’m good at spinning the truth.”

“Fine. Then, you have my permission. You deserve all the success this book may bring you. I hope Chuck and Savannah’s book makes lots of money for you.”

I’m so excited I squeal. “You know, this little empire I am building is not just mine now. We are in this together. You can bet your ass you will be my muse for other books.”

He grins, amused. “How so?”

“Your cock is kind of big deal in romance novels. Every woman wants the bad boy with a big dick.”

“Good,” he says, gripping me up before flipping me onto my stomach, so that I’m laying across his lap. “Because I’m about to give it you.”

My ass cheek throbs when he smacks me. He’s not as hard, as usual, more of a tap than anything. But I’m still sore from earlier.

The corners of my mouth turn up into a wicked grin. “You’re a bad boy, Carter.”

He presses his lips to my ear. This time his voice is a whisper. “You’ve seen nothing yet, Princess.”

My ovaries do a happy dance, and my pussy is already wet and ready for more. Can I handle more? It doesn’t matter. Even though we stopped playing the old game, we somehow managed to come up with a new one. Carter is more in control now, but either way, we both win. And I’m playing for keeps.

Epilogue

Six months later

Carter

After thinking about the missing piece to my puzzle, I knew exactly what to get for my last tattoo. Scully, the same tattoo artist who I have trusted with my ink since I moved to Philly, adds the final touches and cleans me up before holding up a mirror so I can see the masterpiece. It’s finally complete. I often wondered if it would ever end with the last tile, or if I would keep going in search of more.

The day Sydney waltzed into my life and stole my heart changed my life forever. I am no longer the man I was before. While my bedroom habits haven’t changed much, Sydney has gotten used to my dominance and respects my need to have that order in my life. She loves it. I know she gets off on it, especially when I’m out of town for away games.

“I hope she likes it,” Scully says to me. He shakes my hand, and I get up from his chair, keeping my fingers crossed that Sydney will approve of my choice.

“I hope so, too.”

He walks me out to the front counter, where I expect to see Sydney, but the chair I left her in is vacant. No one is here except for the receptionist. I stroll up to the counter and wait for her to glance up at me.

“Have you seen the dark-haired woman that I came in with?”

“Uh-huh.” She points her finger at one of the closed doors of the shop. “She’s in room number two with Tate.”

“What for?” I am so damn confused.

“Getting inked, of course,” she says as if I asked her a dumb question.