“We have to stop,” she breathed. Her body betrayed her words when she clutched his face, yanking his mouth back to hers.
“Why?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “There’s no one for a few miles. If I wanted to fuck you right here”—he shifted his hips, making her gasp—“I could.”
Her lips curved up against his cheek before she placed a soft kiss right in the center of it. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Carter looked at her questioningly. She was sensational with her swollen lips and windblown hair.
“For inviting me here, I mean. For knowing I would love it.”
“You love it?”
“It’s so pretty.”
Relief seized his racing heart. “You wanna see inside?”
With a quick kiss to her lips, Carter held on to her until her feet once again found the ground. Carter grabbed Kat’s suitcase and led her along the porch and through the front door.
She took hesitant steps along the hallway, glancing at the beech wood stairs leading to the first floor. She was quiet as she removed her jacket, making her way into the living room, with Carter following silently. She walked around, standing by the window that looked out onto the ocean and the sand banks covered in long, yellowing grass.
Leaning against the doorjamb, Carter watched her. She was undeniably perfect, standing in his house. He’d thought the same when he’d first seen her in his apartment in the city, but somehow, this was different. His present was merging with his past, making him feel oddly at ease.
After heaving her suitcase upstairs to the bedroom, Carter returned to find Kat glancing at the eclectic artwork on the walls. He knew from seeing her own art collection that she appreciated watercolors, but his throat narrowed in panic when she stopped dead at a selection of black-and-white photographs littering the wall above the roaring fireplace.
“This is you,” she murmured, pointing to a picture of a young boy in shorts building a huge sandcastle.
“Yeah,” he answered, moving next to her. “I was seven.”
Her fingertips glided over his image. “You’re so happy. Who took it?”
“My grandmother,” he replied. “This was her house. The house I told you about—she left it to me.” He glanced around. “It was our place.” He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “We came here a lot. Just the two of us.”
“It holds happy memories for you?”
“Yeah, the few that I have from my childhood belong here.” He swallowed. “I wanted to share it with you.”
She placed a soft kiss on his shoulder.
Carter kissed the top of her hair. “Come on,” he whispered. “I’ll get you a drink. Food for dinner is all ready for cooking. You like shellfish, right?”
When she nodded, Carter moved closer to her mouth. “Great, I’m starving.” His words carried an undeniable undertone, but he was under no illusions. The next few days were not just about being naked with her. They were about truth, honesty, stepping up, and being an adult. Now that she had wrecked his punk-ass armor, Carter knew he had to show her everything that lay underneath. It was daunting and scary, but he would do it for her. He had to.
They kissed again tenderly but with a promised passion. “Why don’t you go upstairs, get changed into something really warm so you don’t get hypothermia or some shit, and I’ll start on dinner.”
Strangely, she neither argued nor questioned him. “Third door on the right,” he said. “I put your suitcase at the end of the bed.”
“Thank you,” she said before she disappeared up the stairs.
*
“What else?”
Kat chewed her lip as she thought. “Anchovies and olives.” She made an “ick” face. “And lemons. I hate any lemon food—lemon cakes, lemon dressing.” She grimaced and shivered.
“You drink Sprite,” Carter pointed out through a cloud of smoke.
“That’s different,” Kat countered with a tone that closed the conversation.
Carter rolled his eyes.
“What do you hate?” she asked.
“Tomatoes,” he answered swiftly, “anchovies, pineapple, any fish except shellfish, and macaroni and cheese.”
“Macaroni and cheese?” Kat laughed. “What is wrong with you?”
Carter frowned. “I hate the fucking stuff.”
“Okay,” Kat conceded. “Favorite food?”
“Peaches.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’m serious,” he offered. “Peaches and Oreos.” He grinned. “Favorite movie?”
“I can’t pick just one.”
“Fine, two.”
“The Goonies and Forrest Gump. You.”
“Beetlejuice and Pulp Fiction,” Carter replied as he put his smoke out. “Favorite album?”
“Rubber Soul and Revolver by the Beatles. It’s always been one album for me.” She gestured for him to answer.
“Same,” he smirked. “That and The White Album, tied.”