Honey doesn’t move away when I press my arm into her breast and move my thigh so that it touches hers fully. She doesn’t even flinch when I place a hand on her waist and gaze into her eyes. “Isn’t it better like this,” I say.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before,” she replies.
“But surely you’ve been with a man before,” I say, not entirely believing the story about her being a virgin. It seems odd for a woman in her early twenties. Most women these days don’t behave that way, and certainly not ones involved in criminal empires.
“I’ve not so much as slept in the same bed as one, even with my clothes on,” she says.
I run my hand down to her hip, feeling the lovely curve that brings me there. She may be half my age, but she’s a full-grown woman with the assets to match. I’d say yes to her any day or night. There’s no doubt in my crooked little mind about that.
“Are you going to have sex with me?” she asks.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do to me,” she says, her voice almost too soft to hear.
I remove my hand from her hip and let out a sigh. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“Okay,” she says, relaxing back into the bed, seeming relieved that I didn’t initiate anything beyond gentle touches.
I hear sadness in the way that she speaks, as though she might actually let me get inside her, but not because she wanted it. I’m not the type of guy to try to convince a woman to do what she isn’t interested in doing, however, but she wouldn’t know that. As far as she understands, I’m the big tough mafia boss that she has to serve now. It all sounded so good in my head, but the reality is a little depressing.
Maybe I’m thinking too much into it. Honey’s father died two weeks ago, she just had a bad dream, and here I am, trying to cozy up to her. It’s probably too soon, and she’s probably still upset about all that’s happened in her life. I would be too if I had a father to be upset about anymore.
I watch Honey as she closes her eyes and drifts back into sleep. I watch her chest rise and fall slowly, peacefully. I could watch her all night, but I’m already half asleep as it is. It’s probably best that I try to get a few good hours of sleep before facing whatever tomorrow has to bring.
I close my eyes and scoot just a little bit closer to Honey.
Soon, I fall asleep.
Chapter Twelve
Honey
I wake up before Carter does. His heavy arm is draped over me, weighing me into the bed to the point where I’m not even sure if I can slip out and take a shower before he wakes up.
The entirety of last night feels like a dream, but only part of it was. Even though I was intimidated by Carter sleeping in the bed with me, I was also comforted by his large body after the awful dream I had. I probably would’ve had sex with him too if he really wanted it, but I’m not sure what I was thinking. I need to be more careful.
I look over at Carter. His lips are parted slightly, and a gentle snore escapes from them. He shaved last night after the wedding, but the stubble on his face has grown quickly into the beginnings of a thick, dark beard. He looks handsome that way.
The sheets are tangled around my legs, but I manage to kick myself free without waking Carter up. He looks so deep in his slumber that it would be impossible to wake him up even if I tried, but I don’t know how well-trained he is. My father would wake up from a single bare foot against the carpet. Mafia men are a different class of human.
I slide to the side, half-rolling to free myself from the pressure of Carter’s muscular, tattooed arm. I glance at the ink pierced deep into his skin, marveling at the scenes of angels and demons for a brief moment before freeing myself from the weight of his arm.
I tumble onto the thick rug at the side of the bed, landing on my hands and feet like a cat, silent and discreet. I know how to sneak around, and I’m still shy about being seen naked by Carter.
The air is cool and causes my nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on my legs. Maybe it’s just the excitement of slipping away unnoticed. Even a simple morning shower is an adventure in my eyes.
I get to my feet and almost let out a yelp as Carter rises from the bed like a zombie, turning his head toward me with eyes open wide. “What are you doing?” he asks, a crease forming between his thick eyebrows.
“Um, taking a shower,” I say, placing a hand over my breasts in a lame attempt to maintain decency.
His eyes dance over me, exploring my bare skin like it’s an intricate work of art. I appreciate his interest in me, but I’m trying to get in the shower and start my day. I smile, blinking at him a few times before he raises his eyes back up to mine.
“Finished?” I ask.
“Not really,” he says, suddenly pulling the sheets away from his body.
This time, I don’t turn away. Call it curiosity, but I want to see if the rumors about morning wood are true. Do guys always have erections in the morning, or is that just a myth spread by men to excuse themselves for poking you
