As I sat at the table, idly looking at the black roses, I suddenly wondered what Carter was doing. Without thinking too much about it, I took out the phone and pulled up the Marauder’s Map of the house. Sure enough, there was Carter’s little dot, sitting in a room I thought I recognized but couldn’t be sure. The map wasn’t labeled, so it took me a few minutes before I figured out that he was in his music room.
I got up and headed out into the hall, walking toward him. It was definitely a bad idea, but I was tired and I was bored, and I wanted to know what the heck he meant by sending me black roses. I knew what pink roses meant, what yellow roses meant, obviously what red roses meant, but not black. Was he trying to make some kind of funeral joke or something? You never knew with Carter. That man seemed to live in his own little world and made his own little jokes that he found amazingly funny, while we normal people were left trying to figure out what the heck he meant. He had referenced the lingerie in his note, and maybe that really was what he was getting at. So then why roses?
I realized that I was reading too far into it, but I couldn’t help myself. I knew Carter was smart enough to have several layers of meaning to every gesture, or at least he could if he wanted to. Maybe it was just as simple as black lingerie, black roses.
I stopped just outside of the music room, realizing something. This was probably what he wanted all along. Carter wanted me to read into these roses, wanted me to think about what they could mean. He wanted me to think about him, to obsess about him. Just by thinking about his gift, I was playing directly into his hand.
“Damn,” I said out loud, shaking my head.
A second later, the door swung open and Carter poked his head out. He startled me and I took a few steps back.
“Hey,” he said, cocking his head at me and smiling. “Were you talking to yourself out here?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I was on the phone.”
“Right.” He leaned up against the frame. “What brings you here?”
“I got your gift.”
“Good. Do you like them?”
“They’re more confusing than anything else.”
He shrugged and walked back into the room, leaving the door open. I followed him in as he walked behind the bar. “Drink?” he asked.
“White wine, if you have some.”
He nodded, opened a bottle, and poured me a small glass. He refreshed his own whisky and came around the bar.
“Why are roses confusing?”
“They’re black.”
“I told you why in the note.”
“Where do you even get black roses?”
“You buy white ones then you have them dyed black.”
“Sounds expensive and a lot of work for something that I’m just going to throw out.”
“That’s okay. Nothing but the best for the girl that leaves me cuffed to a bed.”
“You asked for that.”
“I don’t recall asking to scare some poor maid.”
“That’s not my fault.”
He grinned. “Agree to disagree.”
“Besides, why would seeing you half-naked scare her?”
“She’s pretty young. Probably never saw a cock like mine before.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course. You and your unique penis.”
“Penis.” He scoffed. “You make it sound so clinical.”
“Good. You’re my stepfather, after all.”
He grinned at me. “Good point.” He moved closer, sitting on the stool next to mine, our knees touching very slightly. “Tell me something, do you always kiss your stepfathers the way you kissed me?”
I looked away. “That’s different.”
“I don’t see how.”
“I was drunk.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“High.”
“Nope.”
“Under the influence of gamma radiation?”
He laughed, grinning. “Okay, maybe that one. But it wouldn’t cause you to do anything against your will.”
“I don’t know, gamma radiation has some tricky properties.”
“Speaking of working too hard, you seem to be doing backflips to try and avoid admitting that you want to see my unique cock.”
“Believe me. I don’t need to work hard to avoid that.”
“What did you think when you saw the roses?” he asked, sipping his drink.
I sipped my wine, taking a second before I answered. “I thought you’re a total weirdo.”
He laughed again, clearly loving it. “I don’t believe that.”
“What did you think when you were sending them?”
“I was thinking how hard I get every time I think of seeing you in that lingerie. I think of how incredible that kiss was—and I know you know it.”
“It was a mistake,” I said.
“It was,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t make it any less incredible. Think about this, Emily. I can make you feel things I’m betting you’ve never felt before with just a kiss. Imagine what I could do if you let me have that perfect body of yours.”
I felt a thrill run up my spine as I imagined all of the possibilities, but I had to keep myself under control. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “What would my mother say about that?”
“She’d be unhappy, but she’d get over it.”
I stood up and walked away, needing to put some distance between us. He leaned one elbow on the bar top and watched me, a cocky smile on his face, sipping his drink.