Biting my lip in apprehension, I ask, “I let that slip, huh?”
“You sure did.” He slowly dances his fingers across the exposed skin of my lower back. “So tell me, what is this future bestseller of yours about?”
“That is highly unlikely.” Pausing, I avert my gaze. “I’m writing a romance novel about two clandestine soulmates forbidden to fall in love. Sort of a modern spin onRomeo and Juliet.”
“Why is it forbidden?”
“I’m still mapping out the plot, but I think the main male character is going to be a professional football player who falls for his assistant.”
“And by football player, you mean hockey player. That doesn’t seem very forbidden.”
“You’re right. Until you find out the assistant is his rival’s daughter. And it’s most definitely going to be a football player. It’s the only sport I know.”
“Okay, I’m hooked already. We’ll circle back to the football detail at a later date. When can I read it?” I can’t help the questioning look I send his way, but he looks so sincerely intrigued.
“I haven’t written more than the first two chapters. So, not for a very long time. Or quite possibly ever.”
“Wait, why can’t I read it?”
“It’s a romance novel. You don’t think that’d be weird to read your friend’s romance book?”
“Not really. I mean, I read the books you leave around the house all the time.”
“What?” I squeal. “No, you don’t.”
“Oh, I do. Once we started watchingBridgertonand I realized you read more than just the classics, my curiosity was piqued.” He sends a shameless wink my way.
I cover my face again, this time in utter humiliation.
“Ohmygodthat’ssoembarrassing,” I mumble through my palms.
His chest shakes with laughter beneath me, and I peek a glimpse at him through my fingers. I can’t help but drown in the current that is Carson Wilder. I’m amazed at how easily he breaks down my walls and pulls me in. His golden hair shines in the light of dawn, and even though it’s only just started to get warmer, his skin already has a bronzed glow. He looks ethereal.
Pulling my hands from my face again, he says, “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re bashful first thing in the morning.”
My breath hitches as his words sink in. I lick my lips, and his gaze locks on the movement.
Carson’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, thankfully breaking the tension that was building. I shift to grab his cell for him. “You’re popular this morning, Golden Boy.”
He takes his phone when I hold it out for him. “Thanks. It’s probably the guys looking for me. I think we’re all eating breakfast together before our tee time this morning.”
I start to roll out of bed when he grips me by the waist, halting me in place. “Whoa there, where are you running off to, Austin?”
“I should get back up to the house and change so I don’t look like I’m doing the walk of shame.”
His lip quirks up at the corner. “There’s no shame in two friends spending an innocent night together, right?”
“You’d be right if I didn’t admit that this is starting to feel less . . . innocent,” I murmur. “I really should go.”
Moving out of his grasp, I slip from beneath the covers and start looking for my boots.
I’m just pulling on my second rhinestone boot when Carson stands from his side of the bed. He stretches his arms above his head, and my gaze slides down the sinew of his arms, across the expanse of his broad chest, to each rivet of his defined abs, until I reach the V that leads beneath the very low waist of his faded blue jeans.
Yeah, the way he’s turning me on right now is far from innocent.
He relaxes his arms and lightly scratches his bare chest. “I hate to watch you leave, Austin.”
Yeah, but I bet you’d love to watch me come.
