CARTER
The bucket of ice cream tumbles out of her hand, landing with a thud somewhere on my floorboard. There’s ice-cream splattered on the floor of my precious car but I can not be bothered to give a f**k right now. The only way I’m leaving Rory is if we’re surgically separated. Period.
A groan rumbles up my throat when she exhales, her body going soft as she kisses me back.
In the back of my head, I note that she still wants me and that her earlier display had been just that--a display. But it’s a faint thing because all I can think about is lifting that flimsy excuse of a dress out of my way and shoving home.
I’ve been in a different kind of hell seeing her strutting her luscious ass around the house since the last time I had her, dying for another taste of her but knowing that t
