Beg For Me: Chapter 5

When the check comes, I insist we split it. Carter merely smiles and pulls out his wallet.

“How about we let Fabi decide. Then it’s fate.”

“There’s no such thing as fate.”

His smile grows wider. “Said like a true cynic.”

I want to say I’m not a cynic, I’m a realist, but somewhere in there lurks a hint that I earned my clear-eyed view of life from long experience, and I’m not about to start talking about our age difference again.

Over the course of the conversation, it’s become clear that not only is he fine with it, he might actually prefer that I’m older.

I’m already in enough trouble as it is.

When Fabi returns to collect the check, he finds us both holding out credit cards. Without batting an eyelash, he plucks Carter’s Amex from his fingers and turns around and leaves.

My dinner companion oozes satisfaction.

“That wasn’t fate, Carter. That was sexism.”

“Actually, that was romance.”

When I level him with a look, he laughs again.

“Some of us believe a gentleman should court a lady.”

“And some of us spent years fighting to be taken seriously as an equal only to discover certain men prefer a quote-unquote ‘lady’ because those delicate creatures have been trained to be passive and meek. And nobody’s courting anybody. You’re way too sure of yourself for my liking.”

He tilts his head back and gazes at me through half-lidded eyes. “Hmm.”

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me. I’m serious.”

“What’s that Shakespeare line? The one about protesting too much?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Why don’t you lean on your pricey education to remember?”

“God, you’re devastating when you’re flirting.”

“I’m not flirting with you.”

“Teasing, then.”

“I’m not doing that either.”

We gaze at each other across the table, smiling and toying with the stems on our elegant little crystal liquor glasses and most definitely flirting.

I feel like a retired racehorse that’s been cooped up inside a dreary dark barn for years but is finally getting a chance to stretch my legs and let the wind rip through my mane as I tear up the track.

“You’re having fun, though,” says Carter. “I can tell you’re enjoying yourself.”

I smile and sip my Frangelico. “Only because this is my favorite restaurant. And who doesn’t like a free meal?”

“So you’re going to make it hard for me. Okay. Challenge accepted. I should warn you, though, I always get what I want.”

I’d ask how he’s so damn overconfident, but the giant silver spoon in his mouth he was born with would impede the answer.

“That’s something we have in common, then.”

He grimaces. “Don’t make it sound like it’s the only thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not by a longshot. We’re both competitive too.”

Recalling what I told him at the coffee shop, I nod.

“And we both love to eat.”

I guess I went after my tortellini with more gusto than I realized.

“And we both love Hozier.”

“How do you know I love Hozier?”

He smiles. “The interview in Power magazine. By the way, you know that reporter was into you, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You couldn’t tell by those questions? He had you so far up on a pedestal, he was looking right up your skirt.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “He was perfectly professional.”

“You think so? Because he called me the week after the article was published to see if I’d agree to an interview. His angle was a clash-of-the-media-titans thing. He gushed about you like a schoolgirl over a pop star.”

I’m unsure if this is another of his extravagances or if he’s being truthful, but either way, it makes me laugh. “He was old enough to be my grandfather.”

Carter’s gaze grows intense, and his voice turns throaty. “Age means nothing to desire. The heart wants what it wants.”

I really hate to admit it to myself, but this cocky blond billionaire really knows how to push all my buttons. Just the way he’s looking at me makes my pulse race.

Aiming for nonchalant, I say, “Have you been studying these lines in a book?”

He grins. “Why? Are they working?”

“Not even a little bit.”

We stare at each other across the table as the air all around us detonates with heat. I don’t recall ever being this physically attracted to someone. It’s like some mad scientist cooked up a batch of supercharged sex pheromones and dumped them both over our heads.

Holding my gaze, Carter demands softly, “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“That I’ve had too much wine.”

“Because you’re entertaining inappropriate thoughts about me.”

“Yes.”

“Would it be inappropriate if I told you my dick is so hard for you right now?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad. It is.”

Smiling, I relax back into my chair, swirl the Frangelico round and round in the glass, and allow myself to luxuriate in his laser-focused attention.

Maybe that’s what’s so intoxicating. It’s not the alcohol, it’s his unwavering concentration.

It’s his unapologetic desire.

It’s him.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he says gruffly.

“Stop complimenting me. I’ll get a big head.”

“I’ll never stop. You’re my idea of perfection.”

My heart is throbbing, my skin is hot, and I’m restlessly squeezing my thighs together. Still, I manage to sound aloof. “All this effort for a goodnight kiss? I wonder what you’d do if the stakes were higher?”

Without missing a beat he says, “Anything you asked. Anything you wanted. I’d blow up my whole life for one night with you. And if I thought you’d give me more than that, I’d blow up the whole fucking world.”

The restaurant disappears. All the background noise of people eating and talking fall silent. What’s left is the two of us and our held gazes in a crackling hot bubble of lust.

I don’t mean for it to, but my voice comes out breathy. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me either. But you feel it too, this connection. I know you do.”

For a long, breathless moment, I teeter between recklessness and restraint. I stare into those intense blue eyes with the oddest sensation of being sucked in, as if a dangerous riptide is dragging me under.

I want to kiss him. I want to taste his skin. I want to feel him inside me and listen to him groan in pleasure as I sink my fingernails into his back and roll my hips to meet his thrusts.

I want to ride him and take my pleasure from his strong young body, and I want it all with such sudden, fierce need, it frightens me.

Then my cell chimes with a text, and the spell is broken.

I recognize the particular tone. I set it for one caller specifically, to ensure I’d know it was him trying to reach me without having to look.

“I wouldn’t normally check my phone during dinner, but that’s my brother. I apologize, but I need to take a look.”

Sensing the moment is gone, Carter sits back in his chair. “Of course.”

I dig my cell from my purse and unlock the screen. Emailed you the info on options for Mom, Will’s text reads. I’ll call you in the morning.

I quickly text back. What happened at the hospital? CT scan clear?

Three bubbles appear then disappear. He doesn’t answer.

When I mutter a curse, Carter says, “Everything okay?”

“Our mom fell this morning. Banged herself up pretty good.”

“Oh no. Is she in the hospital?”

I glance up to find him gazing at me, concern clear in his expression. “It doesn’t sound like it. I told Will to take her right away to get checked, but…”

He studies me while I compose another text. I’m not looking at him, but I feel his attention.

Tell me you took her to the ER, Will. And if you didn’t, GO RIGHT NOW.

I wait for a response, but don’t get one. For all I know, he already turned off his phone.

Worried and annoyed, I shove my cell back into my handbag and send Carter a stiff smile. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“That’s sweet of you, but no.”

“Do you need to call him? I’m fine waiting.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. He won’t pick up.”

If the bitterness in my tone surprises Carter, he doesn’t show it. He says gently, “Yeah, brothers can be a real pain in the ass, can’t they?”

We share a wry laugh. “You must know all about it.”

“That’s another thing we have in common. Irritating siblings. Is he older or younger than you?”

“Older by two years.”

“Any other brothers or sisters?”

“No, just us.”

“So you’re the baby.”

I don’t know why he sounds so pleased by that until I realize he’s the youngest sibling too. I nod. “Yes, I’m the baby. But Will’s the favorite. When we were growing up, my parents always acted like he could walk on water. He could do no wrong in their eyes. And now let’s talk about anything else but me. Tell me about yourself, Carter. What’s it like being filthy rich?”

He studies me for a moment, his expression serious. “It can be great. It can be awful. Mostly, I don’t think about it, except when someone judges me for something I didn’t choose.”

Embarrassed, I close my eyes and pass a hand over my face. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

“No, I get it. It’s a legitimate question. Most people can’t imagine the kind of life I was born into. It isn’t all rainbows and unicorns, though. Money makes people…”

He trails off into silence. Gazing off into the distance over my shoulder, he looks as if he’s lost somewhere in the past.

Somewhere dark.

“Change?” I offer.

He meets my eyes again. His voice is flat.

“Do crazy things.”

Inspecting his face, I say, “You mean like host wild yacht parties with a bunch of underage girls from the varsity volleyball team?”

After a beat, he shakes his head as if to clear it and pastes on a smile. “Yeah. Exactly.” He laughs uncomfortably, avoiding my stare.

He’s lying.

I don’t know how I know, only that I do. Everything he’s said up to now has been true, no matter how outrageous. But this small, seemingly unimportant topic is the one he chose to be disingenuous about.

“Money makes people do crazy things.”

Like what, for instance?

I don’t ask because I know he wasn’t talking about himself. I don’t sense he was talking about his family either. I think he means that his family’s money makes other people do crazy things.

Somehow, that’s even more unsettling.

On impulse, I reach across the table and touch his hand. He starts as if coming back to himself from somewhere unpleasant.

I say gently, “Thank you for asking me out. I’ve really enjoyed our dinner. I like you more than I expected I would, and whoever made you have that expression I just saw deserves to get kicked in the teeth. And now I want you to take me home so I can give you that goodnight kiss.”

He stares at me silently, his lips parted and his breathing shallow.

Then he jolts from his chair, pulls me to my feet, and kisses me hard and deep in front of everyone in the restaurant, not breaking away even for an instant when people start clapping.