Drive Me Crazy
Page 9

Her phone rang and she answered it. There was lots of yelling in the background and the sound of slot machines being played.
“Melanie.”
“Hey Daddy. Did you forget to pay—”
“Our luck has change, sugar. I won big tonight!” A woman laughed, low and husky over the phone. “Must be the good luck charm that came with me.”
She froze, standing in the middle of the living room. “Is Raylene with you?”
“Now don’t get all preachy on me.”
“Answer me.”
Louis paused. “Yeah.”
Why couldn’t she catch a break? Of all the women in Holland Springs, he had to pick the one married to Carter’s uncle. It was like God had it out for her.
“But the real question you should be asking is how much.”
Again, Louis put her between a rock and a hard place. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t have any breathing room. “How much?”
“Twelve grand. I’m on a roll!” Another whoop in the background.
“Guess you’re not going to cash out and come home, are you?”
“I can double this, sugar. Pay you back and help get you out of that trailer faster. Do right by your momma. I can feel it.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. She bit her lip, then forced a smile. Why? She had no idea, because it wasn’t like Louis could see her tears or her smile. “That’s good, Daddy.”
“Wish me luck, before I have to go.”
“Good luck,” she whispered.
“Be back on Monday.”
She ended their call, made her legs work again and tossed her phone on the counter. It landed with a thud. She needed more than chocolate; she needed a drink.
Someone pounded on the door just as she opened the freezer. “Be right there!” Ms. White had mentioned bringing back Louis’ shears once she got off of work.
Before she could do an about face, the knock turned into a consistent pounding. “Hold your horses. I’m coming.” The pounding grew louder. That couldn’t be Ms. White. Stopping by the only window in the living room, she peeked out and saw Carter standing at her door.
Her heart bungeed-jumped into her throat.
For a moment she considered letting him stay out in the cold, but the pounding started up again and she had no desire to listen to Mrs. Gregory lecture her about being a loose woman.
Never mind that Mrs. Gregory entertained three different men during the week. And by entertain, she meant sex. That little trailer, a camper really, would rock so hard that Melanie was sure it would fall on its side.
Unlocking the door, she shoved it open, almost smacking Carter in the face. “Can I help you?”
“Damn, woman. You could’ve reminded me that your door didn’t open like normal.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Sorry, our doors don’t open the way people with real houses—”
“Be quiet.” Carter pushed past her, practically barreling his way into her house and shut the door behind him. “Louis home?”
“Thought you wanted me to be quiet?”
He raked a hand through his dark hair. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“No, you came here to get your rocks off,” she said turning to face him. “And I remember telling you that I wasn’t in the mood.”
“Planned on getting you in the mood.” He leaned into her, his dark green eyes smoldering. “Planned to do something with your rocks, too.”
A cross between a laugh and a snort left her. “Oh you sweet talker, you. Now I know why April still wants to be with you.”
The smirk that kicked up the corners up his sexy lips made her stomach drop to her toes. “You sure are cute when you’re jealous, Miss Smith.”
Her jaw worked. “Go home, Carter. I’m sure April’s waiting for you, wedding dress at the ready.”
“Don’t want April.” Tugging on the sash of her robe, he crooked a finger at her. “Come here and let me apologize for being an insensitive man.”
Telling herself that she was only walking closer to him so that her sash wouldn’t give way and flash him, she found herself practically pressed against him. “Not gonna happen.”
He dipped his head, minty breathy invading her space. “I’m a sure thing, baby. And I’m sorry for not doing whatever you need me to. Maybe I need some lessons. I’m a fast learner.” The sash to her robe gave and the material parted, the throbbing, heated part of her making itself known. A cold hand slipped inside, cupping her breast and making her gasp. Her nipple beaded against his palm. “Damn, but your skin is nice and hot, better than any pair of gloves.”
“If you put another cold hand on me, Carter Mason Ambrose, I’ll knee you in the balls,” she all but growled at him.
But that sexy jerk did nothing but laugh and wiggle his fingers at her. Just as he attempted to slide his other hand inside, her knee came up. He stopped her with a twist of his hips. “What if I warm it up first, then I can touch you?” The hand cupping her breast moved lower, allowing his thumb to brush her nipple. Desire sparked, flaming higher and hotter with each lazy pass. “Thing is, sweetheart, you’re so damn hot that there’s no way I’d ever be warm enough to touch you.”
She felt herself softening, giving into him. Into his legendary charm that she’d never been the recipient of until now.
“I’ll give it a try anyway.” He vigorously rubbed his hand up and down the outside of his thigh. “Let’s see if I got it right.”
Breathing became hard to do as his hand hovered in the air. Her lashes fluttered as he gently touched her neck, his warm palm making her head fall back. She felt the tip of his tongue trace the base of her throat. His soft hair brushed the side of her face.
“Carter,” she whispered. “I’m still upset with you.”
“Did all the coffee come out?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t get you out of the hot seat.”
His tongue touched the lobe of her ear, then his teeth nibbled on the flesh.“No place I’d rather be than in your hot seat.”
“Oh God,” she moaned.
A low chuckle emanated from him, dark and full of so much promise that her knees went weak. Reflexes fast as his race car on the final turn at Daytona caught her around the waist before she fell. “Where’s your room?”he asked, kissing his way to her mouth. His tongue slid in just as her lips parted to answer, tangling with hers.
Tearing her mouth away for even a second was almost impossible to do, but she managed to gasp, “Behind me, door at the end of the hallway.”
“Is your dad coming home anytime soon?” Carter swept her off her feet and headed down the short hallway. “I’d hate to let him beat the shit out of me for catching me satisfying the hell out of his daughter.”
Dread reared its ugly head, breaking through a haze of lust and longing. If she told him where and who Louis was with, no telling what would happen. And she couldn’t have Carter thinking of her like that. Like she was the daughter of trailer trash, of a man who slept with other men’s wives and discarded them as soon as the next helpless, ignored housewife came along.
Not now, not when it seemed she’d finally gotten him to think of her as not just his kid sister’s best friend. “He won’t be back for a while.”
Carter nudged the door open with his hip. “A while means many things, baby. Humor me and clarify.”
“Not for a couple of days.” Usually that was how long he stayed away, when he and his new woman decided to go away together. She prayed Carter wouldn’t ask her to elaborate any further.
He set her down on her feet, and she felt every hard inch of him on the way down. “Then tonight we’ll stay here, but tomorrow you’re coming home with me. In fact I’m thinking that tomorrow is a holiday and there’s no need for us to go into work.”
She closed her eyes as he helped her out of her robe.
Muttering a curse, he said, “Or the next day either.” He stepped away, his hands caressing as they followed the curves of her body. “When the hell did you get a tattoo on your ass?”
“Eighteenth birthday.” She shook her head. The tattoo was low on her back, over to the side so it couldn’t be classified as a tramp stamp. “Tried to talk your sister into getting one, too.”
“Jesus H. Christ, Melanie. Don’t bring my sister into the conversation.”
Biting back a laugh, her eyes popped open to reveal their reflection in her mirror. She was naked as the day she was born while he was fully clothed. And he was watching her watching him as his hands explored her body.
“Does this mean anything to you?”
“Us?” she asked. Of course this meant something to her. She’d been in love with him for years.
“Your tattoo is about me and you?”
Oh my God. Face turning fiery red, she looked away from the mirror. “It’s a hummingbird. My momma used to call me that.” Bittersweet memories enveloped her as did his arms. “She said I like to flit from here to there, always moving.”
“Guess I’m the mood-killer now, huh.” He kissed the top of her head, a gesture so sweet and telling that she wanted to weep. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
He wasn’t just saying sorry for killing the mood. He meant her mom, too. Carter was just that kind of guy. No, not that kind of guy. He was a man, protective and sexy as hell.
Whirling in his arms, she crept her hands up his wool sweater. “It happened a long time ago, when I was a little girl. Before I knew you. And I’m grown now.” She gave him her best-come-and-get-me-boy smile, cupping her breasts and pressing them together. “In case you didn’t notice.”
“I’d have to be dead to not notice.” Admiration gleamed in his sexy green eyes. “But thank you for reminding me…ma’am,” he said in that deep drawl she loved.
“Why don’t you warm up your hands again.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
“Why don’t I warm you up instead.” His mouth came down on hers, his tongue breaking the seam of her lips as she stood on tiptoe. Rubbing against him, she whimpered in the back of her throat. His hands explored every sensitive part of her that he could reach. Cupping her butt, he lifted her to him and started in the direction of the bed.
She helped him out of his shirt along the way, throwing it in the middle of the room. Even as her back hit the comforter, she was tugging at his belt, ripping it off and unbuttoning his fly as his mouth found her nipple and sucked.
Her head fell back against a pillow, her fingers digging in his back. She found her way to his jeans, pushing them down so she could cup his muscular butt. The very hard length of him rubbed against her thighs, and then hit her stomach as he worked his way back up to her mouth. He bit her bottom lip and tugged, worrying it between his teeth and then soothing the sting with his tongue.
“You’ve got the poutiest fucking mouth and one day real soon, I’m going to have it around my dick.” He sealed his lips over hers, taking her breath away and replacing it with his. She couldn’t get enough of him. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him.
Sitting up, she grinded against his erection and raked her nails across his chest. A chest made of muscular pecs and a washboard stomach. Dear God, she should pin a picture of it on her Pinterest page, under ManCandy. “Maybe you’ll return the favor and put your mouth on me again. Maybe we can do it at the same time.”
He groaned. “Can’t take much more.” In one swift move, he had her pinned under him and entered her with one long finger. “Fuck. You’re so damn wet. Reach into my pocket and get a condom.”
“Which one?” she asked, desperate for him to be inside of her, and not just his finger.
“Doesn’t matter; they’ve all got one.”
He eased a second finger inside of her and pressed up. An involuntary shriek left her. “Oh God.” She grabbed the first foil packet with the tips of her fingers and lifted it to her mouth, tearing it and throwing the packet to the side.
“I want to taste you so bad…but I can’t wait.” He snagged the condom from her and rolled it on, then the blunt head of his erection replaced his fingers and he pushed inside.
His head fell to her shoulder, fingers threading in her damp hair, and flexed his hips. She whimpered at his invasion. As he stretched and filled her. Even if she hadn’t had sex in almost two years, he was still hung like a porn star.
And they were moving like two odd puzzle pieces being shoved together. It was awkward and hurt like hell. This wasn’t what she dreamed about. This was…They needed to slow down.
“Carter…not so fast,” she gasped, hips pressing into the mattress. “I haven’t had…ung…sex…”
He froze. “You’re not virgin, are you? Because if you are I’m going about this all wrong.”
“Why—virgins deserve more than hussies like me?” she asked, tears stinging her eyes.
“Dammit, Melanie.” His head snapped up, eyes dark and jaw clenched. “Why do you assume the worst about me? More importantly, why do you assume the worst about yourself?”
Because she’d been reminded her whole life that she was from the wrong side of town, the wrong side of the tracks and was nothing but trash. Turning away from him, she stared at the wall. Posters still hung on her wall. Teen heartthrobs and favorite bands smiled back at her.
“Look at me.”
“No,” she whispered, because if she did, she might cry. And God knew there was no crying in the middle of sex. Not unless it was the good kind.