Consider Me (Playing For Keeps Book 1)
Consider Me: Chapter 15

CARTER

“OH SHIT. FUCK. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT.”

Cracking one spent lid, I search through the foggy morning haze, trying to pin Olivia’s panicked voice. I’m not sure why she’s so frantic, and I’m only mildly annoyed that she’s woken me from the best sleep of my life. Annoyed because I was having the very best dream. Olivia under me, over me, her lips, her hands, her perfect tits. Only mildly because now I get to live out the dream in real life.

Rolling onto my back, I blindly sweep an arm over the empty spot beside me. It’s still warm and I can smell her all over my sheets, like a fresh batch of cookies. I wanna eat her right up.

“Come back to bed, Ollie.” My voice is thick with sleep. I suck in a shit ton of air on a never-ending yawn and rub my eyes. When I hear a loud crash followed by a string of curses, I manage to pull myself to sitting.

Olivia’s stark naked—just the way I like her—lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

I lean over the bed, smiling. “What you doin’ down there, baby?” Fuck, I’m tired.

Her lips part with what looks like horror before her hands fly to her chest in an attempt to cover herself. I didn’t expect the shyness this morning, sans alcohol, but I guess it makes sense.

Keeling over the side of the bed, I rest a palm on the cold hardwood and reach one arm out to her, hoping to pull her right the hell back up here so I can fuck her back to sleep. We’ve got all day and I don’t have training; we can squeeze in a few more hours.

I swear I had a goddamn epiphany last night while my sword of thunder was buried nine inches deep inside the most insanely stunning woman I’ve ever sparred with. I never wanted to leave, and this morning, I still don’t. I hope she’s okay with that, because I’m pretty sure she just got herself a shadow.

The shadow is me. I’m gonna be glued to her leg like a horny, unneutered dog for a long-ass time. Maybe forever. I don’t fuckin know. I only know I’m not letting go.

But she scoots backward, snapping her jaw together with a scowl. “I’m not your baby.”

Okay, so Olivia’s not a morning person. Maybe she needs caffeine.

“Do you need a coffee?”

Whoops. Wrong question.

I resist the urge to hide under the covers, instead offering her a gritty version of my delightfully charming smile that I think she loves/hates. It doesn’t seem to be having the desired effect.

Olivia rockets to her feet, snatching the blanket off my body as I pull myself back up to the mattress. She wraps it around herself like she’s going to a toga party. She could 100 percent pass for a Greek goddess.

She makes a throaty sound, wide gaze glued to…

My dick. He’s happy to see her this morning, giving her the ol’ one-eyed salute as he bobs around.

“Good morning,” I say with a chuckle. I swivel my hips, making him dance. “All of me is happy to see all of you.”

Christ, she’s hard to crack this morning. Not even a smile gracing those plump pink lips, just a hand slapped across her eyes.

I cock a brow. “You know he got well acquainted with your palace last night, right?”

Olivia sure is making a lot of sounds today. This one is all whimper-moan, right before she turns on her heel and makes a mad dash for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

But I’m not shy and I don’t really like boundaries, so I slip out of bed and stroll right through that door.

I run a hand down my torso, giving it a little scratch before I fist the base of my cock, looking at the beautiful girl wrapped in a sheet, her dress in one hand, phone in the other, and her enormous brown eyes set on me, only growing bigger with every step I take.

“What the fuck are you doing? We should be in bed, cuddling.” Or fucking. “And this…” I trail a finger along her collarbone until I reach her fist where she’s clutching the sheet tight to her body. “I don’t care where this goes, as long as it fucking goes.”

I tear the sheet away, letting it pool at our feet, and Jesus Christ, could her eyes get any bigger?

With two handfuls of her ass, I hoist her up to me, wrapping her legs around my hips before I press her against the glass shower. I bite back a groan, letting it rumble in my chest, because she’s soaking, her warmth pressed up against me.

“You’re gonna need to cancel any plans you have.” My mouth opens on her neck, coasting up it with slow, wet kisses, and I nip at her chin. She’s got the tiniest dimple there, right in the center, and I love it. “I’m keeping you all damn day.”

Olivia’s mouth opens like she’s going to say something, maybe argue with me the way she likes to. I’m not interested in words right now though, so I swallow them up before she has a chance to speak them. She clings to my body, throwing her arms around my neck as her fingers crawl into my hair, gripping it. Her hips roll, back arching, trying to get closer.

“Fu-u-uck.” Her garbled cry breaks against the hot lash of my tongue.

“Perfect,” I manage against the onslaught of kisses. “Christ, Liv, you’re fucking perfect.”

Her breath snags in her throat, and suddenly her palms shove against my chest, pushing me away.

I’m confused, but I almost always am when it comes to her, because I can’t read her mind.

But wait. Maybe we’re just— “Are we roughin’ it up?” I ask with a sly smirk, prowling toward her. I’m into it. I’m into everything as long as she’s part of it. If she wants to push me around, I’ll push her right back.

Like, nicely. But not too nice.

“What?” She shakes her head, slamming her eyes shut as she holds her palms up in an attempt to keep me at bay. “No, Carter. Stop. Please.”

Stop? What? No. I don’t want to. But I do, and my face falls.

“Why? Are you okay?” I look her over with a slow sweep. It gets heated on the way down and I wind up making three passes. “Did I hurt you last night?”

I reach for her right hip, right where there are four round bruises that perfectly match my fingertips. Twisting her, I replace my thumbprint on her backside. She’s also covered in a shit ton of tiny purple hickeys. A possessive growl rips through me, secretly loving all those marks. Mine, my brain shouts out, and my third leg jumps with agreement.

Olivia swats my hand away. “No, you didn’t—” She stops, covering her face before she picks up her dress and pushes by me, pulling her dress over her head. “I have to go.”

She forgoes the bra, choosing instead to hook it onto her wrist before she starts searching around the floor, looking for the thong I peeled off her last night, I assume. I neglect to tell her that it’s in the pocket of my jeans, which are half-buried under the bed.

Scratching my head and cupping my balls—she’s on her hands and knees with her round ass in the air—I ask her, “Go where? Do you have plans? I thought you were gonna stay for breakfast.”

Olivia ignores me, giving up on the hunt for her undies with a groan and her hands in the air. She heads for the door, yanking it open and barreling down the hall, and I’m so fucking lost.

I throw on a pair of sweats and chase after her, flying down the stairs behind her.

Wrapping my fingers around her elbow, I tug her back to me. “Are you gonna say anything?” Her eyes are trained on my torso. “Or look at me?” I blow out a frustrated breath and plow my fingers through my hair. “Fuck, Ollie, I’m so confused right now.”

“I have to go,” is all she whispers.

“Go fucking where?” It comes out a lot louder than I intend, ’cause I’m getting real worked up right now, and Olivia flinches. Pulling in a breath that’s meant to steady me, I place my hands on her shoulders, rubbing down her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little lost. You said we were gonna talk about us, and—”

She shakes off my touch. “You said that, not me.”

I blink down at her. She’s still not looking at me.

“You-you-you—” Christ, is this really happening right now? Am I stammering? “You agreed! You said we’d talk after breakfast!”

“We both had too much to drink.” Her excuse is weak and she knows it. “I don’t think we knew what we were doing.”

Bull-fucking-shit. “Fucking look at me if you’re gonna lie to me, Olivia.”

She flips her eyes up to mine and I don’t like what I see. They’re red rimmed, her bottom lip wobbly. What the hell is going on? This is so damn simple. There’s no reason to cry, because I’m right fucking here, wanting her, like I have from the first moment I saw her.

She doesn’t say anything, but the quick rise and fall of her chest lets me know this situation is getting to her. So why the hell is she putting us both in it when it’s obvious it’s not where either of us wants to be? I’m not stupid. This shit I’m feeling isn’t one sided.

“So that’s that? Just another one-night stand? Thanks for the sex, see you never?”

“It’s what you want,” she tries to tell me, clutching her phone to her chest.

“You don’t know the first thing about what I want. If you did, you wouldn’t be turning your back on me and walking out of here right now, claiming this was just sex that means fuck all to me, or to you. That’s bullshit. You know it and I know it.” I’m not afraid to argue with her. I’ll do it all damn day if I think she’s wrong, and right now, she is.

She ducks around me, heading for the kitchen, stepping into the heels she left there. “I have to go, Carter.”

“No, you don’t. You’re refusing to communicate. Here I am wanting to talk about what the hell is going on between us, and there you are, trying to run away.”

“There’s nothing—”

“Don’t you fucking say there’s nothing going on between us!” I’m shouting again and I hate it. I get worked up easily and I’m really on edge right now. I’m loud and demanding and I like to be in control, and right now, all I’m doing is losing all semblance of control. This girl owns me—for some fucking reason—and I refuse to let her make the wrong decision for both of us.

So I stalk toward her, backing her into the wall. Her whiskey eyes widen, that bottom lip doing a full tremble now. I grip her biceps, willing her to look at me as I steady my breathing.

“Stop it. Stop pretending like you aren’t scared out of your mind right now, like that hasn’t been the only thing holding you back this entire time. And that’s not my ego talking, by the way. It’s my brain, because I can see what’s right in front of me, and that’s you, beautiful, sarcastic, smart, strong, sensitive, and fucking scared of the way you feel for someone you never wanted or intended to have feelings for.”

Her phone slips from her shaking hands and clatters to the ground and I scoop it up before she can. My face fills the screen, except it’s not only mine. Over and over again, picture after picture of me with my arm wrapped around a different woman, heading into my condo, into hotels.

I’m not sure if that’s the worst part. It might be the headline, the one with today’s date beneath it.

“New Year, Same Carter: Carter Beckett’s Twelve Hottest Conquests and What We Can Expect of Him This Year”

I look to Olivia. The weight of the turmoil she wears, the sympathy, the fear, all of it is heavy, turning down the edges of her mouth, guiding her gaze downcast.

“This isn’t me.” I tip her chin up, stealing her gaze. “This doesn’t have to be me.”

Her voice cracks when she finally speaks. “How can you promise that? We barely know each other. You admitted last night that you didn’t know if a relationship was what you wanted. Christ, Carter, look at that!” She gestures at her phone in my hand. “I can’t compete with that, not even in my own head, which is where it’s most important. You may think I’m strong but I have no qualms admitting that I’m way too insecure to pretend that how many gorgeous women you’ve been with doesn’t absolutely fucking terrify me, that I wouldn’t be constantly waiting for you to get bored of me.” She presses her fingertips to her forehead like she’s got a headache. “You have a condo for sex.”

It’s technically not why I have it, more so why I haven’t ever gotten rid of it, but I’m not sure making that distinction right now would help my case.

“None of those women mean anything to me, Olivia.”

“I got so wrapped up in you last night, lost so much control, that we didn’t think to wear a condom. That’s so reckless.”

I rub at my neck. “I don’t have girls here, Olivia. Ever. I wasn’t lying.” Maybe it’s a piss-poor excuse, but I don’t have a single condom stashed in the house. The condo, sure, drawers full. I do keep one in my wallet, but that was stored down here in the entryway table, and in the heat of the moment… “Are you not on the pill?” Fuck. Didn’t I ask her this?

“I’m on the pill, but…” She trails off as her gaze settles on the lump between my legs.

“I’m clean,” I whisper. If I sound defeated, it’s because I fucking am. She’s never going to get over my past. “That’s the first time I…” First time I went in bare, but I don’t finish that thought out loud. “I get tested.” My throat is tight and dry. “I don’t want you to go. I like you, and you said you like me too.”

“I do like you. I like what you’ve shown me, what I’ve learned, but there are other things I’ve seen…” She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “I wish I could overlook everything else and jump right in. But I don’t know how, Carter, because when I look down, there’s not a single part of me that can see the ground. I don’t want messy and scary. I want steady and sure.”

Steady and sure, got it. I can be steady and sure. I can figure it out.

“Listen, I know I’m not boyfriend material, but I can try. Really, I can. I’ll be good. I’ll-I’ll—”

She places her hand on my chest, stopping me. “I don’t want you to change for me, Carter. This, us…It was a mistake.”

Ouch. I step back, rubbing my palm across my chest, trying to soothe the sharp pain that passes through it. Olivia’s gaze softens as she watches me.

“I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“It sure as hell doesn’t feel that way,” I bite back, because everything fucking hurts.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to trust me.”

Her eyes fall shut, shoulders slumping. “I wish I could, but I don’t know how to.” She reaches out, taking her hand in mine, clutching it to her chest. “We’re not right for each other.”

“How do you know that? Everything has felt right since I met you. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s felt right.”

It would have been naïve for me to think it would be easy, that we’d be able to fall into some sort of…relationship. But after last night, I thought she’d give me a chance. I thought she’d at least consider it. Consider me. I’m fucking trying here. I’ve decided what I want. Isn’t it supposed to be easy from here on out?

I understand the hesitation, the fear. How can I not? The media isn’t blowing smoke; my reputation is exactly the way it’s been painted. She’s allowed to be terrified. I’m terrified. I’m in unchartered waters here. I’m scared I’ll hurt her. I’m scared I don’t know how to be a partner. I’m scared that this could…work. I’m scared that she could be my forever. Christ, that’s petrifying.

But right now, I’m most terrified that she’s going to walk out that door and never come back.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t know anything except that I’m too afraid of walking into something that feels like a heartbreak waiting to happen. It’s like running into a burning building, Carter. We’re too different, and the only way this can end is up in flames.”

“Sometimes different is good,” I argue quietly. “I like different.”

The corner of her mouth lifts with a sad smile, and I know. She’s leaving, even if there’s a part of her that begs her to stay, even if all of me begs too.

“We shouldn’t have had sex,” I whisper. She told me last night that she couldn’t trust me enough to move forward, and yet when everything fell away for a few hours, all the insecurities, the apprehension, the hopeful part of my brain thought those things might be gone forever. But fears don’t disappear overnight. Even I know that.

“No,” she agrees, squeezing my hand. “We shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry, because I’m the one who initiated it. I took something I wanted but told myself I couldn’t have. You would have never pushed me into it.”

And then we wouldn’t be here, with her walking out on me like she has every intention of putting too much space between us, too much distance I don’t want at all. If I give her space, will she come around? Give me a chance?

“Is it forever?” I ask as she slips her arms into her coat. “Good-bye?”

She lifts her head, watery eyes searching mine as silence hangs heavy in the space between us. All I can hear is the rapid thump-thump of my angry, bruised heart, the shift of Olivia’s feet. She doesn’t want it to be forever, the same as me, but I can tell by the look in her eyes that it’s the way she thinks it needs to be, so before she can answer, I beat her to it.

“You leaving right now doesn’t change how I feel about you, and it won’t change your feelings for me either. I know you’re hoping they’ll disappear so you don’t have to deal with the way I’ve been living my life, but they won’t. Running from things you’re afraid of won’t get you very far.”

I head back to the kitchen, pulling open the drawer I slammed shut in a hurry when Adam swept Olivia into his arms last night. I take out the small package wrapped in brown paper with little white stars, the burlap bow tied around it with a tiny jingle bell. I tried wrapping it myself five times over before I finally enlisted my sister’s help.

I meet Olivia at the door, and a lump forms in the back of my throat as I let myself take her in one last time. Even when she’s leaving me, she’s still beautiful.

“Do you need a ride?” I ask.

“Thank you, but I ordered an Uber.”

I nod as she pulls the door open and steps onto the porch.

“Ollie?”

Everything in the way she holds herself tells me it’s taking everything in her not to fall apart right now.

“Just so we’re clear, you’re the one who’s walking away right now. This isn’t what I want.”

I tuck the small gift into her surprised hands. “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”