Until We Crash - Michele G Miller Page 0,65

and cants his head out of the direct line. His mouth parts and closes, then parts again—confusion warring in his mind, judging by the wrinkles in his brow—before he says, "You could stay the night." Oh, how I want to. "I wanted to tell you, or I started to that first night, but you gave me crap about the handful of condoms I carried in here."

I purse my lips, appropriately chastised.

"I thought you should know, for your own peace of mind, that you're the only girl I've had in this bed. The only one in this house. When I said there's no one else, I meant that there hasn't been since I came back to Rossview, and there won't be as long as we're…"

"Doing what we're doing?" I finish when he pauses. I attempt to not let his admission deter what I need tonight. I want to sleep here and wake up in his arms, but what I need…

"I can't stay. I wish I could, but I have a new job to start tomorrow." I wiggle my arms from beneath the sheet and wrap them around his lower back. "Seriously, Carter, thank you for that. I was trying hard to keep myself from thinking about losing my job, and wondering how I was going to make ends meet…"

He dips down and nips at my bottom lip, then licks the sting. "Stop thinking you owe me anything." He pulls me into a sitting position while adjusting himself sideways on the side of the bed. "I can't believe you let me think you were comparing me to David Hasselhoff. That was mean." His eyes flick to the sheet I clutch at my chest before he yanks it down, his palm covering my breast. "And if I am Michelangelo's David, then you are Venus de Milo, a little broken but undeterred, and true beauty."

To my dismay, tears sting my eyes.

"Let's get you home."

Jess

The long summer days pass with a semblance of peace. I start my job at Gail's Boutique with Carter's mom, the most amazing woman I've met in a long time. Dad submits applications with the staffing agency for work and maintains his sobriety. Carter works at the garage with the guys putting time into their Nova project and pulling in customization jobs that fill their hours, thanks to word of mouth. I work full days, go home and eat dinner, and spend time with Dad before sneaking off to Carter's most nights. A few hours in his bed, and I'm crawling in mine, exhausted and relaxed, only to wake up and do it again.

"Stay." Carter tugs on my arm one Thursday night as I push up from his bed. “This is beginning to feel like you’re using me for my body.”

“Who says I’m not?”

His fingers slip away from mine, and I hesitate on the edge of the mattress. I glance over my shoulder at his shadowed face, and he shifts, leaning over and clicking the switch to his bedside lamp. The abrupt change in light has me squinting and blinking furiously while Carter shoves upright.

“I’m serious, Jess, stay,” he says, his brow wrinkled as he props his shoulders against his headboard. Hard abs and dark hair draw my gaze. He is every inch the David I compared him to, but I rarely get the opportunity to admire him in the light. I’m too busy attacking him the moment he opens his front door.

"We can set the alarm extra early so you can head home to shower and change."

"Carter, I don't think—"

"Are you fucking…" With a growl, Carter tosses off the sheet and swings his legs over the bed. "Well, thanks for the fuck, you know your way out."

I stare at his bare ass, my jaw dropping, as he disappears into his bathroom and kicks the door closed with his heel. The water turning on pulls me from my stupor. Eleven days have passed since I lost one job and found another, and Carter and I declared we were more a "we" than we weren't. Eleven days of driving to his place after hours, having mind-blowing sex, and leaving. Few words are exchanged, and since Carter and the guys ran over to Dallas this past weekend for a car show, we haven't had a single day, or night, off together. And this predicament is my fault.

I don't know a woman alive who wouldn't be furious at a man for the same behavior I've displayed. I've put Dad first each night, having late

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