“Did I hurt her?” he repeats calmly, slowly, like he’s savoring the anger that question stokes inside. He moves closer and plants his arms on the wall on either of me to frame me in. I stiffen, knowing he’s trying to intimidate me. To punish me for asking such an ugly question.
He closes the distance, leaning in and bending his head like he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he buries his face in the curve of my neck. I shiver at the sensation of his warm breath against the sensitive skin. My nerve endings come alive when he presses his lips there, but I push him away. He’s evading the question, and that’s terrifying.
“I need you to answer this one, Carter. I need the truth.”
Grabbing my wrists, he roughly pins them to the wall over my head. “Did I rape her?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
I refuse to flinch. “Did you?”
Disdain drips from his tone as he answers, “No.”
I want to feel relieved. Maybe I should feel relieved, but it’s hard to manufacture the sensation of relief when confronted with an angry Carter Mahoney. “Okay. I just had to ask. You know how scary it is to trust you, Carter. We’re still technically gettin’ to know each other, so… I mean, I had to ask.”
“Do you believe me?”
His tone is even, but it sets off alarm bells anyway. “Yes. Should I?”
He shrugs. “I’m telling the truth. Doesn’t necessarily mean you have to believe it.”
“Is she… alive?”
His lips curve up faintly. There’s a look in his eyes that makes me want to take the question back, but he doesn’t answer me. Not with words, anyway. He shrugs his shoulders slowly, a hard expression on his handsome face. His response could mean it’s none of my business and he’s not going to tell me, or it could indicate he doesn’t know if she’s alive and doesn’t care.
This is torture. Piecing out the truth like this, offering what’s affordable and withholding the rest. I want the whole truth, not just fragments of it. I want him to go all in on me, not stick with the safer bets. I want to know all of him, every dark corner; I don’t want to be relegated to the surface layer like everybody else.
Maybe he’s right, maybe I do want to be the special one, but only because that’s the only way I can really know him. You wouldn’t think it, seeing him surrounded by friends in the halls at school, but Carter Mahoney is a fortress and he keeps everyone locked out.
I want in.
I realize I’ve been escalating his resistance by battling him for the truth. I will never win openly fighting him like this. He won’t suddenly back down because I bitched about it enough—that’s not Carter. He doesn’t operate that way. Fighting him will only lessen my chances of getting what I want, and never getting the truth raises the chances I’m going to lose my damn mind trying to keep up with this asshole.
His hands are still on me. That’s important. As annoyed as he is with me, as agitated as I’m making him, he still wants to touch me.
I tug my wrists free of his hold and lean toward him, arching away from the wall just enough to reach the zipper on the back of my dress. Carter’s eyes narrow with suspicion as I drag it down and the fabric around me loosens. Without a word, I push the top of the dress down my arms, then pull on the fabric until it falls to the floor.
Carter’s gaze turns hot as he looks over my offering, at first lingering on my breasts, then drifting down my abdomen, finally settling between my thighs before returning to my face. There’s a glint of distrust in his dark eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.
Wordlessly I step forward, bringing my body against his. His heat sears me and my blood warms as I hold his gaze, refusing to waver. I loop one arm around his neck and rest the other over his strong shoulder, then I bend my head and kiss my way along his strong jaw. I kiss his neck the way he tried to kiss mine just a moment ago, but his body is rigid and unresponsive. That just makes me try harder. My arm over his shoulder drifts down to his waist and I pull him against me, subtly rubbing my breasts against his hard chest, then kissing my way along his jaw again.
In a violent burst, he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back. My heart pounds as he backs me up the few remaining inches toward the wall, then pushes my shoulder until I drop to my knees. It’s scary knowing he could hurt me if he wanted to, but not knowing if he will. I’m all twisted up, because it’s not fear I feel the strongest. Lust stirs inside me as I look up at him, a need, newly awakened, pulsating in my core.