Whiskey and Lace(3)

"They are, thank you."

"I told him green because it brings out your eyes."

I smiled at him. This morning-after Carter was sweet and attentive, not at all like the controlling, demanding man of last night. Not that I was complaining about that Carter either.

"You know, we should go to Aspen this weekend. It's beautiful right now."

My eyes widened in surprise. Madeleine said he didn't mix friends with pleasure and yet here he was asking me to go out of town with him.

"I have a home there. My family spends Christmas in the mountains," he clarified when I still hadn't answered. This was the first time he'd mentioned his family. I wondered about them. What were his parents like? Did he have siblings? Nephews and nieces? I couldn't imagine Carter Morgan on the floor playing with kids.

"It sounds lovely." My heart fluttered at the thought of a weekend away with Carter.

"It is. I'll take you this weekend. We can take my jet." Carter grinned. "You'll love it." My eyes widened in surprise. I'd been around the fashion scene for a few years now, so while the wealthy lifestyle wasn't foreign to me, it had never touched my life personally. I'd grown up in a modest, middle-class household; private jets and a second home in the mountains weren't something that were on my radar.

"Do you ski?" I stretched my legs out to intertwine with his.

"No." He grabbed my foot and began to rub the arch softly. "I just like to get away. So we'll leave Friday afternoon," Carter informed me as if I’d already said yes. I laughed at him and shook my head. And demanding Carter was back.

"What?" He stopped rubbing my foot.

"Nothing. You. I didn't say I could go, Carter. I have things to do. I just moved. I don't even have everything put away yet," I pleaded halfheartedly.

"Work on it this week. I'm taking you." He began rubbing my foot again. "We'll fly out at four on Friday. Don't bother packing, I want you naked as much as possible next weekend." His eyes sparkled. I leaned up to swat him, but he dodged and then pulled me into his lap and kissed me deeply.

"You are quite demanding, Mr. Morgan." I sat straddled on his lap and could feel him getting hard against my thigh.

"You are incredibly stubborn, Miss Austin." He nipped along the line of my neck. "I'll call my doctor this week to get you an appointment to get on the shot." My body stiffened in his arms.

"Excuse me?" I pulled back, unsure if I'd heard him correctly.

"For birth control. Not that I don't trust you, but the shot is just easier. For both of us. It's peace of mind for me and you don't have to remember to take a pill every day."

"I'm not getting the shot." I jumped off of his lap.

"Why? No one else has ever had a problem with it." He glared right back at me.

"You make all the women you sleep with get the shot? That's rich, Carter. Real classy. Besides, you don't need to worry about me getting knocked up."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why not?"

My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest and I clenched my teeth together in anger. "I can't have kids." I stared at the artwork above his mantle. When he didn't say anything I glanced back at him on the couch. His eyes had softened.

"You don't have to feel bad. I've known for a long time. I had to have surgery when I was a kid and there was a lot of scar tissue left behind. It's impossible for me to get pregnant." I sat down on the opposite end of the couch from him. "So, the shot isn't necessary. I'm only on pills to help regulate my cycle." I avoided his sympathetic gaze.

"I'm sorry, Eva."

"Don't be. It was a long time ago. So do your parents live in Boston?" I was desperate to change the subject.

"Yes." He slid closer to me on the couch and brushed my hand with his own. "My mom and dad live in Belmont."

I knew it was one of the wealthier neighborhoods outside of the city.



"Technically my stepdad, but they've been married since I was young, so he's like my dad."

"Do you have siblings?"

"A younger half-brother and sister." His thumb worked circles in the palm of my hand soothingly. I got the impression that he was making an effort to open up to me since he had forced me to reveal a painful secret.

"What about your real dad?" His hand froze in my own for a moment before he relaxed and started caressing it again.

"I don't know him. He left when I was little."

I sensed it was a sore subject. "I'm sorry," I climbed up into his lap and whispered in his ear. His palms traveled up my denim-clad thighs and held my hips tightly.

"It was a long time ago." His voice sounded gruff with pain or anger, I couldn't tell.