Page 75 of Trusting You

“No, I’m not bleeding,” I answer begrudgingly. “But if you wake Lily up, we’ll both be sorry.”

“Shit!” She uses her palms to lift up, except they’re digging right into my gut. I wince but refuse to emit another noise of pain.

“Did we wake her?” she asks looking over her shoulder.

“We?” I grit out through the pressure on my chest.

“Yes, we. You scared me. On purpose.”

“Did not. I was trying for chivalry while you were sprawled out in front of the bathroom.”

“I’m not drunk.” She lifts off into a sit, and I can breathe again. I sit with her. “Simply tipsy.”

“Did Astor bust out the tequila?”

“Within the first twenty minutes.”

“Oh boy.”

“She’s scary.”

I nod. “Oh, yeah.”

“But I think she likes me.”

“That’s good.” And I’m weirdly touched by the idea that Carter wants my sister to like her. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, although she’s way nicer when she’s drunk.”

I chuckle. “She comes off as…tense to people she doesn’t know.”

“She’s got a stick, right here.” Carter points to her ass, and while we’re in the dark, just outside of my daughter’s nursery, my eyelids flare.

Carter hesitates as if she notices it. Then pulls at her skirt as if she’s figured out just how much gorgeous leg she’s showing. I track the movement, travel all the way up her hip, her breasts before our eyes lock.

“We had a talk, your sister and me,” Carter almost whispers.

“I figured.”

“You sound really sexy in the dark.”

I jerk at that. “Is that what you two talked about?”

“You’re joking. Making a joke. That’s good.”

Shit. Here is this girl outlined in midnight gloom, and for once, I have no idea what to do with such a sexy thing after a night out.

I love women. Women love me. And I tell them my intentions from the beginning—we’re not going anywhere, but we can be excellent for one night. No phone numbers, no promises.

Before the epic fuck up of my knee, I could provide a quick summation of my life easy:

Train.

Play.

Fuck.

Repeat.