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“Gimme a second,” he calls back. A moment later, we’re walking into a room that is unfamiliar.

“Carter, this is the guest bedroom!” The only time I’ve used this room is for yoga and other workouts. “We can’t do it here.”

“Why? It has a bed.”

“But no condoms,” I reply with a laugh.

Groaning, he steps back out of the room in search of mine, with me still slung over him. Seconds later, I’m tossed on the bed. Breathing heavily from my laughter, my eyes track his every movement as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. He doesn’t bother with his sweatpants just yet as he crawls onto the bed, hovering over me for just a moment before connecting our lips in a deep, dirty kiss.

After that, things kind of happen in a blur and we’re both down to our underwear. I gasp, eyes rolling back as his lips trace the line of my bra. I arch my back as his hands reach behind me to remove it. He pulls it out of the way before he cups my left breast, tweaking the nipple as his lips close around the other one. I gasp his name, arching into him.

The air in the room is heavy, but I’m only focused on the way I keep trying to pull him in deeper and press closer to him. I feel the weight of him on top of me, so strong and broad, and I know I can get lost in this. In the way his hands feel against my skin, the way his hair feels running through my fingers, the way the faintest smell of chlorine will always linger on him. I want so much. I want everything and I don’t even know how to ask for it.

His fingers trail down my stomach, then move to my hips to pull my underwear down my legs. I kick them off as soon as I’m able. He’s switched his attention to the other breast by the time my hand drifts between us to cup the bulge in his boxer briefs.

“Fuck,” he groans against my skin as my fingers skate down the hard length. “Condom?”

“Nightstand.”

He shuffles off me, and I whimper at the loss of heat from his body. He’s back as quickly as he goes, though. One hand holding the condom and the other pushing down his own underwear. I take the condom from him, opening the packet so I can roll it on as soon as he’s naked. He groans as I pump my hand along him once, then twice.

“Love,” he moans, pulling me in closer by the hips. I melt at the pet name. “You’re perfect.”

Every piece of me ignites with a fire I’ve never felt before, my legs tightening against his hips to pull him closer to me. I whimper his name followed by a please that sounds desperate to even my own ears. His fingers find my clit, circling in a way that makes my toes curl. I need him, all of him, now.

“Carter,” I gasp, nails scratching down his back.

His fingers slip inside, causing my mouth to drop open in a silent scream as his lips trail kisses down my stomach. I know where this is going and any other night, I’d be all for it, but not now. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m too pent up, too ready for him to take me. My fingers grip his hair, tugging until he looks up at me through his lashes. He groans when I tug his hair again, but he seems to get the message because he moves back up to claim my lips in another kiss.

I take control of the kiss, and he lets me. Willingly melts against me. When we part for the briefest breath, I catch his top lip between my teeth before murmuring, “Fuck me.”

“Shit, Kat,” he moans. “I got you, love.”

I arch against him at the name, which earns a faint smirk from him. He repositions us for a better angle, which results in me feeling him brush against where I want him the most. My eyes flutter shut as he sinks into me, giving me plenty of time to adjust. When my eyes open again, he’s looking at me with such love and adoration I want to stay here forever, but then he moves, and stars explode behind my eyes.

It’s never felt like this before and I’m not sure it’ll ever feel like this again, but it’s everything I’ve ever wished for. The rest of the room is still as we sink into this bliss together. The sounds we make are drowned out by the feeling of having all of Carter to myself. He tangles our fingers together, gripping my hand as he pulls me closer and closer to the edge. I finally tip over the edge I’ve been teetering on when he whispers, “let go,” in my ear, tone low, and breath warm. He follows right behind me.

Later,CarterandIare just relaxing in bed. I’m on my side and he’s sprawled out on his stomach beside me. My fingers trace over a faded tattoo inked into his shoulder blade. Despite meeting him shirtless for the first time, I’ve never noticed this one.

“I didn’t know you had more than one tattoo.” My voice is barely a whisper, not wanting to break the mood in the room. Goosebumps prickling his skin, and he turns his head to look up at me. “It looks older.”

“It was my first tattoo. I got it when I was almost twenty.” A smile tugs at his lips, the memory clearly coming to life in his mind. I want to understand the happiness. “It was a good night.”

“Well, now you have to tell me,” I tease, poking his shoulder until he laughs. “Come on, out with it. Why a wave?”

Carter turns, sitting up until he can rest against the headboard, hiding the tattoo from my view. His arm winds around my waist, fingers sneaking beneath the loose shirt I’d thrown on to rub gently against my side.

“I tried to stick it out in Nashville, after everything with Will went down, and at first, I could handle it. But the second year was hell. The more I started winning and breaking records, the more pissed off Jacobson and some of the other guys got. All because the queer kid can’t have what they want. They all started making rude comments and wouldn’t stop messing with me. The coaches did nothing, nor did any of the other guys. My grades were suffering, and my mental health was at an all-time low.”

I frown, trying to picture Carter in that situation. This man is the literal definition of a cinnamon roll; he’s sweet and comforting, so full of life, and love I can’t even imagine someone being able to zap that out of him. I know it happened, though. I know what the person who did it can do and my heart aches.

“I finished my last final and flew out to Arizona to visit Bryce,” he continues. “He still had a couple of days left and was planning on staying in Arizona for the summer to train, but it didn’t matter. I needed out of there and I wasn’t ready to go back home to my parents.”

“You weren’t staying in Nashville to train with your team like Bryce was staying in Arizona?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, my coach in Nashville didn’t see a whole lot of potential in me, so I was released to go back home for the summer. I was going to train at the club Bry and I grew up in back in Flagstaff. I don’t want to say there’s a reason he liked Will better, but it’s kind of hard not to draw those conclusions.”

The same conclusions I’m drawing just by hearing the story. Bryce had told me that none of Carter’s coaches or the school did anything but the bare minimum. Whatever was needed to keep them from getting a negative reputation and Carter never pinpointed what was happening publicly. I wonder how that coach feels now, knowing Carter is still going strong and his star swimmer from that group doesn’t even want to own up to his past career.