She ignored him, shook her hair and declared, “I’m going to help you heal.”

“Come here, Carrie.”

Her head jerked, her eyes got wide, and fucking finally she moved her ass to him.

The second she got close, he took her down to the couch.

He did not make love to her.

He kissed her hard, bruising her mouth.

And she didn’t give a shit.

He touched her, tearing at her clothes, ripping her underwear.

And she whimpered through it.

Then he fucked her and she took it, her mouth taking his tongue at the same time, her body lurching violently with each thrust.

And she got off on it, moaning her orgasm down his throat, her cunt tightening around his dick, doing that even before he got his thumb to her clit.

Once she found it, Joker came rough and hard, his hand fisted in her hair to hold her stationary so she could take him through it.

And she went back to whimpering, clutching him tight, swallowing his groan.

When he was done, not even recovered, he had two thoughts.

One was that he was glad she was his hot little piece so the three seconds he took to roll on a condom didn’t cool her in any way.

The other was that he’d lost control and she was definitely hot for it.

But she was Carissa. His girl.

And that shit shouldn’t happen.

So, still recovering from his orgasm, he lifted both hands to cup either side of her head and looked into her eyes.

“I hurt you?”

“No way,” she gasped, also still feeling hers, “No how,” she finished on a breath.

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned.

“That was…” she shook her head in his hands. “I don’t know what it was but it was so much of what it was, I’m thinking about starting a diary.”

He held her eyes.

“I’ve never had a diary,” she went on.

He kept looking at her, trying to get a read on if she was lying.

“But that needs to be recorded for posterity.”

It was that that made him drop his forehead to hers in relief.

“Then again, I should have started that diary two days ago. I was just tired from the move and all,” she carried on. “But right after shift tomorrow, I’m going out and getting one.”

He lifted up and watched her smile at him as he felt her hand sift into his hair.

“Just to finish our earlier discussion,” she whispered, he tensed, but she gave it to him. “I am going to heal you, Carson Steele. It’s gonna happen. That’s it. No response necessary.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn’t need that. Not anymore. She’d already done it. And not by taking him hard.

By making him see what everyone but his father saw.