A low, ragged sound slips from his throat, his jaw clenched so fucking tight, his head tipping back against the bed, his breath uneven as he grips me like he’s holding on for dear life. “Haven…”

My name is half a warning, half a plea, and fuck, that does something to me.

I smile, slow and wicked, trailing my fingers over his chest, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath my touch, the way he’s so keyed up already, his body tight with anticipation. “What, Carter?” I murmur, brushing my lips over his jaw, the faintest touch, feather light, enough to make him shudder. “You wanted me to take my time, didn’t you?”

His breath catches, his hands flexing against my hips, his entire body tensing as I shift again, pressing just a little more firmly against the undeniable hardness beneath me. “Fuck.”

I let my nails drag down his stomach, slow and teasing, my voice soft, sweet, a deliberate contrast to what I’m doing to him. “Tell me, Carter.”

His head rolls forward, his forehead nearly pressing against mine, his eyes dark and wild, his breathing ragged, his hands gripping me tighter.

“Tell you what?” He manages, voice rough, wrecked, like he’s barely hanging on.

I smirk, my fingers trailing even lower, teasing the waistband of his sweatpants. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

His entire body jerks beneath me, his hips pressing up against mine involuntarily, his fingers tightening, his voice nothing but a wrecked groan. “So fucking bad.”

Good, Carter’s coming apart beneath me. His breath is uneven, his fingers digging into my hips, his body fighting between holding back and letting go completely. Every time I grind, every time I drag my fingers over his skin, every time I so much as breathe against his throat, I can feel it, his control slipping, his patience shattering, his desperation mounting.

And fuck, it’s so good. I push him further, my nails dragging over his stomach, my lips barely ghosting along his jaw, my hips rolling slow, teasing him just enough to make him curse under his breath, his hands twitching like he’s dying to take over, to flip me onto my back and fuck me into the bed until I forget my own name.

He’s so close to breaking. That’s when it happens, the thought. The one I shouldn’t be having. Tate.

It slips in uninvited, weaving itself between the heat, the tension, the undeniable chemistry between me and Carter. I don’t want it there, I don’t want to think about him, not now, not while Carter is beneath me, not while I have him at my mercy, but fuck I can’t stop it.

I know how he’d react if he saw this. If he walked in, if he leaned against the doorframe with that damn smirk, arms crossed, voice full of arrogance and filth and challenge.