Page 62 of Mark
“Your sister is a bitch,” he growls. “It’s a shock you didn’t turn out the same.”
“Pretty sure you called me a bitch on the plane,” I point out.
His gaze locks on mine, holding me in those intense hazel-coloured eyes. Every single time he looks at me like this, I feel it down to my toes. “That was before I knew you.”
“You don’t know me now,” I point out.
He smirks, and after taking my drink and depositing it, along with his, onto an empty table, he pulls me onto the dance floor. He wraps his arms around my waist. “No? You are loyal to those who have never earned your loyalty. You are faithful to a fault. You would rather people cut into your soul than be the one who does it to someone else. You love your family, even thoughthey test you. And you idolise your nan. You act like your family’s digs and comments don’t bother you, but your nose scrunches up in a tell, like you are holding back tears.And… You know your cat broke into my home but you are too stubborn to admit it.”
I narrow my gaze. “Youstole my cat.”
He leans his head back, but his smirk is still in place when he meets my gaze again. “Lies,” he whispers. “You are also grateful for my company but will never admit it.”
I sniff, lifting my head straight. “I’m notungrateful.”
“You love that you have me here to step in because you are afraid that if you say something to your sister, you’ll never fix your relationship.”
Now he’s just being annoying.
Because he’s right.
“You still don’t know everything about me,” I rasp as he presses his hand to the small of my back.
“I will,” he promises, his tone alluring and sure.
I tilt my head to the side. “And why is that? You did everything to avoid me before this trip and now I can’t seem to get rid of you. And believe me, I’ve tried.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. “I know. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to run off when we got back to the boat earlier.”
“Stop avoiding my question,” I warn.
My lips part as he brings my body flush against his. “Maybe I’m beginning to realise there is more to you than the neighbour who tries to break into my home.”
I arch a brow. “If you think I’ll be your holiday fling, you are very much mistaken. It takes a lot more than charm to get into my bed.”
The truth is, I don’t think it will take much. Something changed between us. Whether it was when he helped me carry my nan back to her cabin, or whether it was when he spoke to meon the sun lounger, something shifted. I just know as badly as he annoys me, there’s an undeniable attraction between us, one I loathe but love at the same time.
He clucks his tongue. “You have a dirty mind, Freya.” He stops swaying to the music, and with one hand on my lower back, the other presses against the nape of my neck. “You are infuriating. You don’t demand my attention yet you have it. You intrigue me. Just when I think I have you all figured out, you do something that takes me by surprise.”
I gulp. I should put space between us, take a step back, yet I drift closer, like a moth to a flame. “And when you lose interest?” I question.
He smirks, and I wish he would stop it. It’s more appealing than his smile. It’s devilish, sinful and full of promise.
“Who says I will?” he fires back.
“Every man loses interest at some point.”
He tilts his head down, his lips a breath away, hovering just a little out of reach. I close my eyes, anticipating, wanting. But when they don’t come, my lashes flutter open. I swallow at the smouldering gaze aimed at me. My toes curl, my breath hitches, and my lips suddenly become dry.
“I’m not just any man. I’m a Carter,” he states, and tingles shoot down my spine at the subtle warning there.
I watch him walk away, feeling lost and confused.
Why didn’t he kiss me?
Why did he walk away?
And what did he mean when he said he was a Carter?