Page 138 of Love to Hate You

Apparently, he doesn’t understand what social cuing is because he sends me his version of a smoldering look.

It falls flat.

My lips tremble and I press them together in order not to smile.

“You’re so far away.” He crooks his finger. “Come sit over here.”

I have now received official confirmation that this was a terrible idea.

What the hell was I thinking?

I bite my lip, wondering if I should point-blank ask him to leave. Stalling for time, I unscrew the cap from my water and take a drink from the bottle.

His gaze drops to my lips. “You seem like a champ at swallowing. I’d love to find out for myself.”

Water goes down the wrong pipe and I sputter, spraying liquid everywhere. I wipe the droplets from my mouth and chin. There’s no damn way that he just said what I thought he did.

My eyes turn glassy with tears as I croak, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

A lazy grin curves his lips.

Apparently, I did hear correctly.

What an asshole!

All right, that does it. He’s definitely getting booted.

Adam opens his mouth and I wince, mentally preparing myself for what’s going to pop out next.

But there’s nothing.

Instead, he snaps his mouth shut. His eyes widen as he stares past me.

I’m about to turn and see what has caught his attention, when a deep voice says, “I believe what your date meant to say was that it’s time for him to take off.” The voice sharpens. “Isn’t that right?”

I bolt out of the recliner and swing around to face Carter. The first shock is that he’s here at the apartment. The second is that he’s wearing the tight, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination rooster underwear and nothing else.

I slap a hand over my mouth as my eyes lick over him. Forgetting about Adam, I whisper, “What are you doing here?”

Carter shrugs and casually leans against the doorframe. His muscles ripple with the movement. That’s all it takes for my panties to flood with heat. I’m like one of Pavlov’s well-trained dogs. When it comes to Carter, I can’t help myself.

“I was hoping we could talk,” he murmurs, and his eyes soften.

I wave a hand at his practically naked state. “Like that?”

A lopsided smile curves his lips. “You seem to go all mushy when I’m naked, so I thought it was worth a shot.” He jerks his head toward Adam. “Plus, I heard we had a guest.” He raises a brow. “So, I figured, appropriate attire was mandatory.”

I spin toward Adam, only now remembering that Carter and I aren’t alone. My date for the evening frowns and shoots to his feet. He spears a finger in Carter’s direction.

“Who’s this guy?” He pauses for a beat. “And where the hell are his clothes?”

The last time this scenario played out, I was pissed as hell. This time, I couldn’t be more thrilled.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Oh, him?” I blink innocently. “He’s one of my roommates.”

“Actually,” Carter cuts in, “I’m the boyfriend.”

My widened gaze collides with his. I wasn’t expecting him to say that.

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