Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
We’re quiet for a moment, and I watch as Carson’s fingers dance closer and closer to mine, testing and giving me time to stop him. I should. I know I should. I’ve already made this mistake.
But I don’t want to stop him.
And that’s why I do.
I get up from the blanket, shaking my head. “I can’t. It’s a risk I can’t take again. I’m sorry.”
I try to run for Taya’s house, tears already spilling down my cheeks, but the sand slows me down. I make it as far as the beachy brush before Carson’s voice on the slight wind cuts through my raging mind and breaking heart.
“I love you, Jayme.”
My feet get caught in the sand, and I stumble, tumbling to the soft ground.
“Shit,” Carson hisses, following me down. “Are you okay?” he asks, brushing his thumb over my cheek gently. I think he’s asking if the no-big-deal drop to the sand has hurt me, but his eyes scour my face and I realize he’s not asking about that at all. He wants to know why I’m running from him.
I scramble to get out from underneath him, needing space, even if it’s only a few inches, because my anger is about to explode out. I need to say it and he needs to hear it, but I’m still trying to shield him and get him slightly out of the blast zone. “No. No, I’m not. I got in the middle of you and Archer because that’s my job, Carson. It’s my job to protect you, your image, and Americana Land. And Archer was purposefully trying to ruin it all and you very nearly let him. He was baiting you.” I shake my head vehemently. “I won’t apologize for saving you, and if your ego can’t handle that, then that’s on you.”
Carson flinches as if I slapped him, but then a look of confusion wrinkles his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“You came and grabbed me away from the Fergusons. I could tell how mad you were, but you didn’t even explain or let me explain. You just kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before, taking any last bit of myself I had left for your own and then pulling away like it . . . like I wasn’t worth it. I knew what that was—a goodbye kiss. And now, you’re telling me you love me? It’s too little, too late.”
There’s a hitch in my voice that I wish wasn’t there, but he’s broken me, turned me into a puddle of needy longing.
“You didn’t understand,” he rumbles as he shoves his fingers through his hair, getting sand everywhere. He looks disappointed. In me? Himself? Fuck if I know at this point.
“Carson, obviously, communication isn’t a strong point. Can we try it with small words, maybe? See if that helps.” It’s a bitchy thing to say, way beyond the pale for even how I would speak to a client who needs a bash upside the head to see reason. But I’m so confused, and like Carson confessed to earlier . . . hurt.
“Not mad about Archer. Embarrassed. Not goodbye. I love you.” Carson grunts the words out caveman-style without the slightest bit of a smile. In fact, his face is stone cold and flat, giving no hint of the emotion behind his words.
I dissect what he just said in a slow, almost wondering voice. “I thought I overstepped with Archer. But you weren’t mad at me for that?”
He shakes his head, one dark brow lifted wryly. “Sexy.”
Okay, that is not what I took from the dark looks he was giving me. Could I have been reading him wrong? Was my judgement that clouded by my own worries about overstepping?
“The kiss wasn’t a goodbye kiss?” I question.
Instead of answering with his words, he’s on me. His weight presses me back into the sand and his mouth covers mine. His lips move over me for a second before I react, and then, when I return the kiss, his tongue demands entry. He claims my mouth, taking my breath away, only to breathe life into me once again.
I realize what he’s doing. He’s kissing me the way he did at the event, but it seems so very different. It’s not a goodbye kiss at all. I can tell that now. He loves me. That I can feel with every press of his body to mine, every glance of his thumb against my jaw, every tender lick of his tongue over mine.
Oh, God! Did I really get it so wrong? Was he saying I love you all along?
But even if that’s true, he didn’t react well to meeting Mom and Dad.
The thought is a dash of cold water on the passion Carson builds so easily in me, and I push him back, panting for air. “What about after that? My parents.”