“You okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“I was fine until you stopped me,” I grumble, crossing my arms.
His lip quirks, just slightly. “You were about to commit assault with a Prada heel. I figured I should step in.”
“She fucking deserved it.”
“Oh, baby, I know.” He cups my face gently, his thumb grazing my cheek. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I blink, surprised by the warmth in his eyes—by the tenderness bleeding through all the tension. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” He shakes his head, a quiet laugh in his chest. “I’m in fucking awe of you.”
My heart lurches so hard it nearly knocks me off balance.
“You think I’m a trash fire, huh?” I say, teasing but raw beneath it.
“Trash fire?” He laughs softly, stepping closer and leaning his forehead against mine. “Darlin’, you just defended me like I was worth something. You think I’m gonna call that a mess? That’s the kind of love people spend their whole lives lookin’ for.”
I blink.
Love? There’s no way in hell he could love someone like me. Right?
He’s still staring at me like I hung the damn moon. Like I just didn’t beat the shit out of his ex, all sweaty with blood on my knuckles. My chest feels tight with an unfamiliar sensation, and I choose to remain silent, allowing the familiar weight of his touch to envelop me.
His hand lifts to my jaw, his rough thumb brushes past my lower lip with a featherlight touch that seems out of place for a man like him. I instinctively lean into his touch.
Carter leans in, brushing his lips against mine. He gently bites my lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. I moan against his mouth, but just as I am about to deepen the kiss, he pulls away and lowers his forehead to mine.
“Catalina,” he whispers.
I close my eyes, inhaling slowly to steady the chaos unraveling in my head, then exhale everything that has been consuming me since the moment this thing between us began.
“Tell me this isn’t stupid,” I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Tell me we’re not making the worst mistake.”
“If being with you is stupid,” he says, “then call me a fucking fool.”
catalina
. . .
Daddy
Ignoring me, how childish of you, Catalina.
Daddy
Time is running out; you have about two months left.
Daddy
Hopefully, this would have given your pathetic life meaning.
He can’t take a hint. I can’t do this—not right now, not after tonight. I pocket my phone, taking a long, deep breath through my nose and exhaling quickly, blowing a sharp breath past my lips.
My body feels as if it’s barely stitched together. Every step requires effort. The adrenaline that once kept me upright has drained from my veins, leaving behind a hollow ache that sinks deep into my chest. I feel weightless, as if I’m floating somewhere outside myself, watching everything through a fog.
Carter doesn’t speak, nor does he ask who messaged me. He moves with me, his hand resting on the small of my back.
