Lip Service:A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(11)

I shifted in my seat, annoyed now with the wetness I could still feel  coating my inner thighs, the ache in my pussy that was from more than  just his cock the night before. I was wet and ready for him. Again. Damn  it. Why did it have to be Carter? Why couldn't I have the hots for Dave  in accounting? He was single, not bad looking, and only a year older  than me. That would make more sense. But this? This was just crazy.

I sighed and shifted my legs, trying to ignore the scent of Carter's  cologne. But it seemed to infiltrate my body like an aphrodisiac, making  me think about touching Carter, kissing Carter, opening my legs and  watching Carter use his mouth on me until I begged him to fuck me.  Again. In my own mind, I was the star of some freaking erotic romance  novel and Carter was the bad-boy hero who knew how to work my body until  I was so wrung out I couldn't remember my own name. And I knew he could  work me over and make me forget. In his bed, I'd forgotten all about  reality for a little while as he filled me, tasted me, held me down and  pressed me into his bed...

A soft moan escaped and I cut it off, wrapping my arms around my waist. I  turned to stare out the window and saw that we were pulling into a  twenty-four hour diner, just as he'd said. God, this was emotional  suicide. "I think you should just take me home, Carter."

Carter turned off the car and faced me.

"Why? I love the pie they serve here. Don't you like pie?"

I had to smile. "Yes, I like pie."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I just don't understand." I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it  lower over my abdomen, needing another layer of protection between him  and my overeager pussy. God, I was pathetic.

He frowned, his forearm resting on the steering wheel. "Neither do I, it seems. Explain, sweetheart."

I waved my hand between us. "That. The sweetheart bit. Why do keep calling me that? It was a one-night-stand, so why dinner?"

"I never said it was a one-night-stand," he countered.

"Carter, we made out in a bar bathroom." I felt my cheeks heat and I had to look away.

"That wasn't making out, that was foreplay."

Oh god. I needed new panties. My hands twisted in my lap as he continued.

"Foreplay for what we did in my bed, foreplay for what we'll do later tonight. Tomorrow. Forever."

My eyebrows went up. "Forever? But you're a-"

I bit my lip and he frowned. "Finish that sentence."

I hadn't even said it and I felt like I'd insulted him. But I saw the women, the photos. I knew the truth.

I looked down at my lap. "You're a man whore, Carter. Everyone knows it.  I won't be able to live with myself if I'm just another notch on your  belt. That's not the kind of girl I am."

A car horn blared from the street, but otherwise there was silence. God,  he was going to start the car and take me home. Maybe even undo the  locks and push me out onto the pavement.

"So, you think I'm a man whore," he said finally.

I was thrilled the interior was dark, otherwise he'd see my cheeks heat.  He must have recognized that I had no intention of responding, so he  continued, completely at ease.

"I haven't been with a woman since I met you."

I whipped my head around to look at him. The long strands of his dark  hair were less groomed than at work and I ached to run my fingers  through them. His jaw was darkened by the start of beard.







"I don't believe you," I replied, leaning against the door to get as far from him as possible.

"Don't believe the rumors."

"I don't listen to office gossip." There was enough of it to go around  and I knew better than to find truth in any of it. My source was much  more reliable. Hell, she set up Carter's dates for him. Tori. My friend  Tori was Carter's personal admin assistant. That bitch knew  everything-and she told me.

He flicked a glance at me, then at a couple that got into the car next  to ours. "All right, who have I been with then?" he asked. "You're  friends with Tori and she knows more about my day than I do."

Exactly! "The blond at the Harris ball," I said.

He thought for a moment about the event back in January.

"My sister."

His-

"The company Fourth of July party." There was no way he had two gorgeous sisters, one blond the other a red head.

"Evelyn Patterson."

I rolled my eyes. At least he wasn't denying there had been a woman with him.

"My best friend's wife," he added. "You've met Colin Patterson before.  Tall guy, we played golf together …  with Ford, as part of that charity  event back in August. As for the picnic, Colin was on call for the  holiday and was pulled in for an emergency C-section. He's an OB. He  felt bad that Evelyn would be alone so she came with me."

Oh.

"When else, Emma?" I saw the cocky smile I knew all too well quirk the  corner of his mouth. He didn't look the least bit like a man caught with  his pants down, more than once. He looked too confident, as if he  really was telling the truth.

"Last week, the Milkin merger reception."

"My next door neighbor," he replied immediately. After the car next to  ours left, it was quiet again. The car was like a cocoon, quiet and  close. His clean scent was stronger now and with him looking at me  directly, his eyes seemed almost black. "And before you say I fucked  her, I didn't. She's a lesbian and doesn't find my equipment all that  exciting."

I couldn't help it, my mouth fell open.

"Then why?" I asked, before I thought better of it.

"Why do I find escorts who are already claimed or completely  disinterested in me? Because the woman I wanted to ask was sitting  outside my brother's office. I had to take a date, as you're well aware,  so I found women to accompany me, but that's all."

"Then you really didn't-"

I couldn't finish my sentences around him.

"I didn't fuck them. I haven't fucked anyone. Hell, I haven't touched  anyone since I saw you. I've just been waiting, Emma, waiting for you to  finish school. Being a fucking gentleman." His hand gripped the  steering wheel so tightly I feared it would break. "Until you forced my  hand."

Oh. Holy shit. The whole V-card thing.

He turned to look at me and I melted into the seat, my whole body on fire for him. "Your body is mine, Emma. I don't share."

Normally, the whole caveman vibe would turn me off. But coming from  Carter, it had the opposite effect. I felt wanted, desired. The idea  that I had been the reason for his sexual dry spell was overwhelming.  Me! I wasn't anything special, not in comparison to those gorgeous women  who'd escorted him to the events, especially now in my yoga pants when I  was nowhere near a gym. But he hadn't touched those women. Certainly  not his sister, definitely not the wife of a friend. He might be the  hottest guy I'd ever seen, but he didn't have a chance with a lesbian.

"Why me?" I asked, when he turned off the car.

"You're smart, beautiful, and classy. Your curves go on for miles and  every time I look at you, all I can think about is bending you over my  desk and filling you with my cock. That virginity you wanted to throw  away, that was mine."

"That's awfully possessive of you," I countered.

He stared at me, his eyes dark and intent. There I saw so much,  everything he'd never shown me before. It was the most heated, most  carnal gaze I'd ever seen. "I want you, Emma. And not as a  one-night-stand."

I couldn't breathe, hope like a butterfly floating in my chest. "Then what do you want?"

"Forever."

My heart beat too fast. Forget butterflies. A herd of buffalo was  running through my stomach and I felt like I was going to faint.

Carter looked at me for a moment, then reached over to touch my  forehead, as if I were a sick child with a fever. "Emma? Are you all  right?"

"No." No. I wasn't all right. I'd somehow stepped into an alternate  reality where I got to fuck Carter Buchanan. Where the sexy as sin  billionaire started talking about forever with the innocent and  inexperienced secretary. This had to be a dream. Or a joke. Maybe a bet?  Had he made one of those stupid bets about who gets the virgin, like  I'd seen in the movies? Just how stupid was I being here?







Truly. What were the odds that Carter Buchanan, sexy, smart billionaire  really, truly wanted middle-class nobody, a secretary who'd never even  been with a man before?

He should be out with a supermodel or an actress. Or a freaking doctor  or something. I was fooling myself. Looking away from his concerned  expression, I said, "Take me home, please."

"Talk to me."

"Take me home."

I saw a muscle in his jaw tick, but he started the car and drove me back  to my place. The short ride was in complete silence and it was  excruciating. I thought he'd drop me off and go, thanks to the cold  shoulder I was giving him. Instead, he parked and hurried to my side of  the car to help me out. It turned out to be a good thing, because my  knees were shaky as hell, just like my emotions.





Chapter 8





Emma