Page 96 of Love to Hate You

Carter crawls up my body and tries to press his lips against mine, but I halt his descent by flattening my palms against his chest. His brows draw together in surprise.

“Where have you been?” I snap, sounding like a jealous girlfriend.

We both know that I don’t have any real claim on him. But if he’s boning some other girl on the sly, I deserve to know about it. My breath catches as I consider the possibility that I’m the one who’s being boned on the side. A sick knot settles in the pit of my belly as I force him away with all my strength.

“What the—”

“Are you screwing someone else?” I cringe as Noah’s words circle viciously in my head.

Carter’s the guy on the football team who gets the most pussy. I can imagine all the backslapping that honor has incurred.

You can’t walk the BU campus from one end to the other without hearing girls whisper about his sexual exploits. Why would Carter settle for just one female when he can have a different flavor every night of the week?

Nausea pinches my belly with a viciousness that makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. Lust is replaced by a scowl as he rears back. My hands fall away from his chest.

“Are you being serious?” he asks.

“As a fucking heart attack,” I growl, knocking him from on top of me so that we’re no longer touching.

If I’ve come to realize anything in the last few weeks, it’s that I need to be clearheaded when having a discussion with Carter. The moment he lays his hands on me, I’m lost.

“Why would you ask me something like that?” He collapses on his back beside me. His elbows support his upper body. “I sleep in your bed every damn night.”

True.

“What am I supposed to think? You get a text in the middle of the game and run out of here like your ass is on fire.” My gaze narrows, looking for any sign that he might be holding back the truth. “You don’t think that looks suspect? Because I do.”

Needing to see the expression on his face, I reach over, turning on the bedside lamp. The room becomes illuminated in soft light. My breath catches at the purplish bruise blooming across his cheek. Our discussion forgotten, I kneel on the bed, closing the distance between us until I can cradle his cheeks in the palms of my hands. I tilt his face so that I can inspect the damage.

His solemn gaze stays fixed on mine.

First a black eye and now this?

What the hell is Carter involved in?

Some underground fight club?

Do they even have those here?

Why would he do that?

Carter doesn’t need the money. From everything I’ve heard, his parents are loaded. And I’m not talking about them merely being comfortable. His dad is a commercial real estate developer who works all over the country.

Plus, Carter is in the middle of his final season at BU and he’s entering the NFL draft in the spring. He can’t afford to get injured. His future and financial livelihood is riding on being picked up by a team.

None of this makes sense.

The last time he came home with obvious signs that he’d been brawling, I’d accused him of fooling around with someone else’s girlfriend. He hadn’t denied the allegation.

“What happened to your face?” I ask tightly. If he’s involved with another girl, we’re done. I refuse to be someone’s sidepiece.

Carter hunches his shoulders and glances away. I hold my tongue and wait for an explanation. His silence only validates that whatever he’s doing isn’t something I’d be cool with.

My hands fall away from his face. “You should go.”

Carter’s gaze darts to mine. He licks his lips and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Everything within me wilts in disappointment. Craving distance, I move further away before yanking the sheet from the bed and wrapping it around my naked body.

“I’m serious. You need to leave.” As much as I want to yell or throw something at him, I keep all my emotion in check.

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