Carter’s jaw flexes, his chest rising sharply, his fingers twitching around my wrist. Before I can even finish the sentence, he closes his eyes, exhales hard, and nods once. The confirmation hits me straight in the chest. Carter is twenty-four, drop-dead gorgeous, stupidly charming, the kind of guy who could have had anyone if he wanted. But he hasn’t, he’s been waiting. For what? For who? For something real? For something right? For someone who actually matters? My pulse pounds, my breath catching in my throat, my mind racing because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with this information. But what I do know? I don’t want him to regret telling me. I don’t want him to think for a second that this changes anything.

And I definitely don’t want him to think I don’t want him just because he’s never done this before. I tilt my head, watching the way his lashes flutter, the way he’s still gripping my wrist like I might bolt now that I know the truth. Keeping my voice soft, steady, letting the words sink in before he has the chance to panic, “That just makes me want you more.”

His eyes snap open his breath completely fucking stalling, and I watch the exact moment his world tilts off its axis.

16

Carter

Oh, fuck. Did I just… did I seriously just admit that to her?

The realization hits like a slow-motion catastrophe unfolding in my brain, every single alarm going off at once, my entire system screaming at me that I should have kept my mouth shut. This is not how I thought tonight would go, not how I pictured meeting Haven for the first time in person, not how I expected to be sitting here, watching her watching me, her fingers still resting on my wrist, her eyes still locked onto mine like she’s trying to figure out what the hell to do with me now that she knows.

She moves, not pulling back. Her hand slides up my arm, like she’s exploring, like she’s testing the way my body reacts to hers, mapping out the shape of me like she has every right to. I let her, I can’t stop myself. Because I want this… God, I want this, I want her, and I don’t know how to handle the fact that she’s here, that she’s touching me like she wants me too, that she isn’t running for the hills now that she knows how completely fucking unprepared I am for any of this.

My pulse is a hammer in my throat, my breathing completely uneven, my body already going too warm.

Her fingertips press into my bicep, slow, dragging down toward my wrist again before skimming back up, testing, feeling, learning.