Page 62 of Love to Hate You

Chapter Twenty

Carter

As I shove the key in the lock to let us in to the apartment, I’m slammed with the realization that Noah won’t be home until tomorrow night. Ashley dragged his ass to a wedding or anniversary party. Frankly, I hadn’t paid too much attention to the details, I was just glad they didn’t involve me.

I flick on the lights in the living room as Daisy strolls past me. My eyes drop to the sway of her ass, and it hits me again that it’s just the two of us here. Alone. I jerk my gaze away and head to the kitchen for a glass of water to douse the fire burning inside me. I’m slightly buzzed and need to sober up.

Daisy’s tipsy, too. More so than me. She’s smiling and humming a song under her breath. Something I can’t quite make out, probably because it’s out of tune. That girl has many talents. Singing isn’t one of them.

When she beelines for her bedroom, my muscles loosen, and I sigh with relief. The best thing I can do is go straight to bed and stay away from her until Noah returns.

“Night.” I roll my shoulders, trying to release some of the pent-up tension that had accumulated while spending the last couple of hours with her. As much as I’ve loved tonight, it’s a fucking killer. I want to claim Daisy for my own and can’t. It feels vital that I keep my distance.

Which sucks.

She throws a glance over her shoulder. “I wasn’t planning to go to bed yet. I’m just changing into my pj’s.”

Oh.

Well, shit.

That’s not good.

Although my cock thinks it’s a fucking fantastic idea, because I know exactly what her pajamas consist of. Daisy hits the door to her bedroom to close it, but it doesn’t shut all the way. There’s a six-inch gap that allows me to see into her room.

As tempted as I am to make my way over there, my ass stays put in the kitchen where it belongs. Instead, I guzzle a glass of water and pace. Spending any more time with Daisy is a disastrous idea.

Nothing good will come of it.

Not.

One.

Damn.

Thing.

As soon as she returns, I’m going to tell her I’m exhausted and hitting the hay. It’s not a lie. I am tired. Spending three hours on the field under the blazing sun will zap your energy. Decision made, I spin around when I hear her pad into the living room. I open my mouth, but the only sound that escapes is a groan.

Daisy’s wearing a hot pink tank top that hugs the curves of her breasts. As if that weren’t bad enough, she’s got on little black shorts that make my dick hard every time I see her in them.

Hell, all I have to do is close my eyes and imagine those fucking shorts and I’m at full mast.

Her hair is loose around her shoulders and her eyes sparkle like the Caribbean Sea.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I am so screwed. If she’s trying to bring me to my knees, she’s doing a fine job of it. I avert my eyes because gazing at her is like staring directly at the sun.

It’s blinding. Dizzying.

I need to get away from her before I do something stupid.

Oblivious to my inner conflict, she plunks down on the couch, grabs the remote, and turns on the television. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Hell no.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

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