Playing for More (Love on the Court - Book #1)

18. Don't Kiss, Don't Tell

CARTER

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"Does he always talk to you like that?"

I halt mid-stride as I stroll into my place, the fluffy pink towel on the verge of slipping from my grasp. My initial plan to distract her with my bare chest and low hanging sweatpants?

Destroyed.

"Who?" I finally manage to ask, my hand still clutching the towel.

I know who she's asking about - but I'm half hoping she won't talk about it if I play dumb. Then again, this may just be to distract me from finding out what's in her drawer.

"Your dad. I, um," she clears her throat, desperately seeking a spot in the room that isn't my face. "I overheard him."

Ah! She met tamed Robert Harris. He gets much meaner when there are no ears around. I'm surprised she doesn't know - considering she found a lot more than someone should.

As if she has direct access to secret information.

"He was actually being nice."

"Are you serious?" she deadpans.

I nod. "Come on, Foster. The man bargains with someone's life. What did you expect?"

Enough about him.

I settle next to her, the bed sinking under my weight, and she folds her hands in her lap. Close enough to make her uncomfortable it seems. She swallows hard and nods.

"So, do I get to see it?"

I shift, attempting to make eye contact, but she is not an eager participant. "See what?"

"It's a two-way street, Foster."

She turns around, pointing an index finger at my chest. I could easily grab her wrist and pull her in...

"I didn't get to do much, so—"

"I let you start your thing."

"Okay, this is not the same."

"What do you have in there, Addie?"

"Dust. Dust mitts. Stuff. Um, paper. Maybe."

"Addison."

She pouts, a sigh escaping her. "Look, Carter... I've tried everything. I know you think you're a gift from God, but it's not going to work."

"Have you tried?"

"I have."

"With someone? Did any of them know they had to..." I pause, forcing her to meet my eyes, and, well I can see the regret in her eyes. My index brushes against the underside of her chin, tilting her head back. "find the sweet spot?"

She shakes her head, momentarily losing her voice. "Maybe there's no damn sweet spot."

"Maybe someone just needs to know they're damn well looking for it."

I lean in, and she shivers. She can hate me all she wants - her body reacts to mine. My lips hover dangerously close, and she sucks in a breath. She clears her throat, trying to regain composure.

"I know I'm looking for it, and I can't find it."

"Maybe you've barely scratched the surface." My voice drops to a sultry whisper.

She pulls away, creating some distance between us. "I've scratched enough."

I don't want to pretend I know her body more than her but... Considering how she's sheltered herself from this, I don't think she's going about it the right way.