Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,59

I have no idea. I chose real estate as a major because my parents pushed me there.” And that was the truth. Something I hadn’t even confessed to myself. Something that—right there in that cheap deli—was terrifying. I was working my ass off to get proof of a degree in a field I didn’t even really like. Or know if I liked. What if I hated it? What if I was terrible at it? I felt panic growing, my hands trembling a little in their reach of the sandwich.

“Chloe.” His voice was strong and steady and I lifted my eyes to meet his. “It’s okay if you don’t know. That’s what this time in your life is for—to figure it out.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Figuring it out?” Maybe he was actually an attorney, one on construction sabbatical, working on his hammering technique while his fat bank account accumulated interest.

His eyes crinkled a little at the edges, as if he could hear my pathetic inner monologue and found it humorous. “Not exactly. This is as figured out as it gets for me, right now.”

My fantasies stopped their party and slunk back to the dormant recesses of my mind. “You like being a super?” The question came out poorly—like I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to do that for a living. I winced at the sound of it and hoped he wasn’t offended.

He laughed. “I do. Plus, it has the occasional perks.”

“Like?” A big bonus at the end of the year? Ten percent ownership of the building?

“Sexy tenants.” He leaned forward. “There’s this one girl—she’s new—that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”

The heat rose in my cheeks, and I forced my smile into a scowl. “Really? I hope you’re not talking about the blonde in B4, because I heard she’s a snobby bitch. One who parties constantly. With really loud friends.”

“Who loses her keys often?” He grinned and god, his smile was perfect.

“I heard that’s just an excuse she uses to get inside single men’s apartments.” I widened my eyes and he leaned forward, the two of us sharing the secret.

“She’s not a snobby bitch.” He whispered. “But she does have really loud friends.”

I giggled, and we were close enough to kiss.

“Do you think I have a chance with her?” he said softly.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “Yeah.” I said softly. “I think you do.”

He closed the gap, his lips soft to mine, then we were suddenly standing, his hands quick, our sandwiches shoved into a bag in seconds. “Let’s go.” The words were a growl, his fingers wrapping around my wrist and pulling, the frantic step of him to the door causing a smile to tear across my face.

Yes. Let’s go. Please.

52. “Please.”

We slammed through the door of his apartment, our lunch tossed in the general direction of the kitchen, his hands pushing on my shoulders, back against the wall, lifting off me long enough to pull off my shirt, tear at the clasp of my bra, and yank down the straps. When I was topless, my bare shoulders against the textured wall, he stopped. His movements slow, he ran both palms up my stomach and cupped my breasts, squeezing them gently, his large hands holding each one easily, my name a reverent whisper off his lips.

“Carter,” I begged. “Please.”

“Wait,” he said and lowered his mouth to my breasts, his tongue and lips depositing soft kisses, sucks, and gentle bites across my sensitive skin, my back arching, my hands finding their way to his head, pulling at his hair. I wanted more yet didn’t want him to stop; the need between my legs competed with the pleasure his mouth was giving. He took my nipple into his mouth, and I whimpered, my hands grabbing at his soft shirt and pulling it, his head lifting, his T-shirt coming off so I could finally touch his skin.

I grabbed his shoulders and his hands dropped lower, to the button of my jeans, the pop of restriction lifted, the zipper loud in the room, his fingertips dipping under the material, pulling my panties and jeans over my hips.

“Damn skinny jeans,” he chuckled against my neck. “I hate these.”

I pushed on his shoulders and he dropped to his knees, peeling off the jeans, his hands on my shoes, and then I was completely naked and he was leaning forward, his hands sliding to the back of my thighs and up, his mouth cupping me as his fingers bit into my