With a single sharp motion, Carter punches the screen, ending the call.
The truck falls into a silence so deep it’s almost crushing.
My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my fingertips, my ears, and my throat. I stare at him, gripping the wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to sanity.
He avoids eye contact and remains silent.
Like he’s just waiting for me to speak and break the tension.
But I don’t.
Because for the first time in a long, long time…I have no words.
None.
carter
. . .
The silence should make it easy to sleep, but my mind won’t shut off.
I lay in bed, one arm thrown behind my head, as I stared up at the ceiling, watching the faint glow of moonlight spill across the walls, stretching long, crooked shadows into the dark.
The sheets are cool against my skin, but none of it fucking matters.
My body is too wired, too restless.
Because all I can fucking think about isher.
Her stupid attitude and smart mouth. The way she stared me down across the bar like she wanted to tear me apart, or let me do the same to her. How her body felt against mine, her soft curves fitting so perfectly against my rough hands when I spun her around and held her there like she belonged to me.
Fuck, the way she let out that soft, breathy little moan when my thumb brushed over her bottom lip. Like she couldn’t help herself, like maybe she wanted it as badly as I did.
She’s fucking intoxicating. Every part of her—the sass, the fire, the stubbornness—it’s a goddamn drug I can’t stop tasting, even when she’s not around.
The drive back wasn’t any better either; the way she looked at me in the truck, as if she didn’t know what to do with the fact that someone stood up for her like it wasn’t something she was used to, something she never expected.
Especially not from me.
And fuck, if I’m being honest, I didn’t expect it either.
A groan escapes my lips as I drag a hand through my beard. This thing, whatever the fuck it is, I can’t let it go any further.
I can’t want her, not like this, not as badly as I do. She’s off limits, she’s Vartan’s daughter.
As much as he can be an asshole, I won’t do it. I won’t cross that line.
Turning my head slightly, the red numbers on the nightstand come into focus—just past two in the morning. I let out a rough, exaggerated sigh and scrub a hand down my face, the bristles of my beard scraping against my palm.
Sleep isn’t happening, not tonight.
My body’s exhausted, my mind’s a goddamn battlefield, and my dick’s been hard for so long it’s starting to feel like a permanent condition. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand.
The floor is cool beneath my bare feet, grounding me just enough to push through the bone-deep frustration humming under my skin. I make my way down the stairs, each step creaking loudly in the oppressive stillness that settles over the ranch at night.
When I reach the kitchen, I yank open the cabinet, grab a glass, and fill it under the tap. The water hisses against the sides, the only sound in the silence. I take a slow sip, lettingthe cold seep into my chest, trying to calm the restless energy buzzing in my veins.
A small, choked-off sound reaches my ears, it’s faint, almost imperceptible.
