Sharp lines drew across his back as she raked her nails over his flesh. She cried out again and locked her legs even tighter around his waist.
He pounded harder, higher, and he didn’t think he’d ever get high enough. Ever get enough of her.
“Carter.” She wrapped her hands around his biceps. “Oh, God.”
“Feel … better?” He caught her chin in his hand.
She stared at him, her eyes glazed, pupils wide. She was panting hard, her chest rubbing up against his.
“Get rid of some of that tension, babe?”
“Yes.” She gasped. “Oh … I…” She trembled. A full-body shake, he felt it go through his cock. “I…” Her eyes filled again, and instantly, tears burst free.
“Hey. Hey.” He withdrew and set her feet on the ground. He pulled her close, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She tucked her head beneath his chin, her hands clasped at her chest. “No … I … that was…”
“That was just what you needed.” He kissed the top of her head.
A strangled sob left her throat.
“Leah.” He spoke against her hair. “I’m not the kind of guy who can stand back and watch someone hurt my woman, nor see my woman hurt herself.”
“But why did you think I was?” She sniffed.
“I told you. Emotions have to have an outlet. Perhaps now is the time to start letting that happen.”
“It’s just…” She looked up at him, her cheeks red and damp. “I felt numb for so long after Mom.”
“You feel numb now?”
She swallowed and shook her head. “No.”
“Good.” He kissed her brow. “Because she would want you to experience life, feel life. Feel happy, feel angry, feel passion and excitement.”
“I know she would.”
“And for the record, your happiness is very important to me.”
She said nothing, just stared into his eyes.
“And seeing you smile”—he paused—“makes it worth getting outta bed in the morning.”
Her eyebrows raised and her lips twitched. “Carter Harris, I do believe you’re being romantic again.”
“What, me? Nah.” He laughed and his heart soared. He never wanted to let her go. He wanted her small, honey-sweet body in his arms, in his bed, in his life. She was unique and made him feel and say things he never had to another woman. And never would again.
Chapter Seventeen
When Leah woke the next morning, the bed beside her was cold. All that remained of Carter was a dent in the pillow.
But she could hear his deep voice. He was downstairs, talking, a one-sided phone conversation.
Not that she could decipher what he was saying.
After a quick shower, she pulled on cream linen shorts and a white t-shirt then headed in search of coffee. She ached after their wild fuck the day before. A sprinkle of bruises peppered her shoulder and upper arm where he’d poked her.
But just thinking about how he’d pushed her, dragged deep-seated emotions from her, made her fall for him just a little bit more. No one else but him could have done that, and no one but him would have been brave enough.