Page 47 of Red Zone (PCU Storm #2)

CARTER

I lean forward, staring at the floor.

The silence between us stretches long and sharp before I finally force myself to look at her.

“What about you?” I ask, my voice low.

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, startled.

I swallow hard.

“What do you want, Lyla?”

She presses her lips together, like she doesn’t know how to answer.

“Do you…” My throat feels tight as I force the words out. “Do you want me to wait? Or are you saying this is it?”

Her shoulders slump as she lets out a shaky breath, her gaze falling to her lap.

“The draft isn’t far from now,” she says, softly. “Neither of us even knows where you’ll end up. Or where I will. Everything’s…uncertain.”

I don’t say anything at first, just watch as her fingers fidget with the hem of her sleeve.

Because I already know what I’m going to do.

I already decided the second Megan gave her that ultimatum.

But watching her now—so unsure, so careful, trying so hard not to fall apart…it just…wrecks me a little more.

So, I lean back, resting my arm along the back of the couch, my eyes still on her.

“You know,” I say quietly. “We started this without thinking about where it was going. Without planning. Without even talking about it.”

She glances up at me, confused, but I keep going.

“Maybe that’s how we should end it too.”

Her brow furrows slightly.

I shift closer, my voice dropping.

“Just…one more time,” I murmur. “One more night. Get it out of our systems. End it the same way it started.”

Her lips part like she wants to protest, but no words come out.

And I can see it in her eyes—she’s just as torn as I am.

Because no matter how much she wants to do the right thing…

She wants me too.

She swallows hard, her gaze dropping back to her lap as my words settle between us.

I can almost see the storm behind her eyes—the part of her that wants to say no, to protect herself, to keep the lines clean.

And the part of her that doesn’t.

The part that still feels what I feel every time we’re in the same room.

Her hands twist in her lap, and she shakes her head faintly.

“Carter…” she starts, her voice soft but firm. “This isn’t just a game. It’s not something we can just…switch off when it’s convenient. I don’t know if I can?—”

I reach over, gently resting my hand on hers, stopping her words.

“I’m not asking you to switch anything off,” I say quietly, my thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I’m saying…one night. No pretending it’s nothing. No pretending it doesn’t mean something. Just…one more time to feel it. Before we have to let it go.”

Her lips press together, and she finally looks up at me, her eyes glassy but sharp.

“And then what?” she whispers.

I take a breath, my jaw tightening as I search for the right words.

“And then,” I say, my voice low and steady. “I’ll walk away if that’s what you really want. But at least we’ll know.”

Her breath hitches, and her fingers tighten slightly around mine.

And that’s when I see it—the faintest nod. Barely more than a breath.

But it’s enough.

I squeeze her hand gently, my chest tight but lighter somehow, and she exhales, closing her eyes like she’s already bracing herself for what’s coming next.

Because so am I.

She sits there for a long time, her eyes closed, fingers still tangled with mine.

When she finally opens them, they meet mine—and I swear there’s something breaking and building all at once in her gaze.

She lets out a quiet, shaky breath.

Then she stands.

My chest tightens as I watch her cross the room, her steps slow but sure.

She pauses at her bedroom door, her hand resting on the frame, and for a second, she doesn’t look back.

But then she does—just over her shoulder, her hair falling loose, her eyes soft but heavy with something she doesn’t have to say.

I don’t move right away.

Not until she nods once, barely more than a breath.

And then I’m on my feet.

I follow her, my pulse pounding, my fingers flexing as I take the few steps to the doorway.

She’s already inside, standing at the foot of the bed now, her arms hugging herself like she’s not sure if this is the right choice.

But when she glances up at me again, all I see is her.

The girl who’s been in my head since the first night she let me close enough to touch her.

The girl who’s been mine in ways she’ll never admit out loud.

And I swear to myself that if this is actually the last time…I’ll make damn sure she never forgets it.

I step inside, closing the door behind me.

And even though neither of us says another word…

We both already know what comes next.

Her back is to me when the door clicks shut behind me.

For a second, I just stand there, watching her in the dim light of her bedroom.

She’s still hugging herself, like she’s bracing for impact.

And something deep in my chest cracks at the sight of her—so strong, so careful, and yet…standing there like she’s waiting to fall apart.

I cross the room slowly, closing the distance between us.

When I reach her, I slide my hands over her arms, gently peeling them away from where they’re crossed over her chest. She doesn’t resist.

I turn her to face me, and her eyes flick up, glassy, her lips parting slightly like she wants to say something but can’t.

So, I shake my head, just barely, and whisper, “Don’t. Not right now.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows, and I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers.

For a long beat, we just breathe.

Then I kiss her.

It starts soft, almost hesitant, like even now we’re still afraid to break each other.

But it doesn’t stay that way.

Her fingers find the hem of my hoodie, pushing it up and over my head. I tug at her blouse, letting it fall to the floor, memorizing every inch of skin I uncover like it’s the last thing I’ll ever see.

And maybe it is.

When I lay her back on the bed, the way she looks up at me almost undoes me completely. I can’t help but stare at just how perfect she is as I shed the rest of my clothes, leaving them to pile on the ground.

Her hair fans out on the pillow, her lashes wet from unshed tears, her chest rising and falling fast.

I take my time peeling her out of the rest of her clothes, my hands dragging slowly over her hips, her thighs, the delicate slope of her stomach. Every inch of her feels like something I need to memorize.

Her skin is warm and soft. She shivers under my palms, her breath catching when I press my lips to her collarbone. Then lower.

I kiss my way over her breasts, down her ribs, and across her stomach, feeling her fingers tangle in my hair as I go, until she lets out a quiet little whimper that makes my chest tighten.

When I finally slip her underwear down her legs, I swear I have to close my eyes for a second just to keep from falling apart right then and there.

She’s beautiful.

So fucking beautiful.

I come back up over her, kissing her deeply, our bare skin sliding together as she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me closer.

The feeling of her under me, arching into me like she’s been waiting for this as long as I have, makes everything else—every doubt, every consequence—fall away.

Her hands roam my shoulders and my back, her nails dragging lightly down my skin as I grind against her just once, enough to draw a gasp from her lips.

I reach for my wallet, tearing the foil packet open with shaking fingers, and she watches me, her chest still heaving, her cheeks flushed.

When I finally push into her, slow and steady, her breath hitches and her eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” I whisper, my forehead pressed to hers, my voice hoarse.

Her eyes open, wide and glassy, and I hold her gaze as I move in and out of her.

Her hands clutch at my shoulders, legs tightening around me, and her lips part on a quiet moan that I swear sears itself into my memory.

We find a rhythm together—slow at first, then deeper, harder, until she’s gasping my name softly and I have to bury my face in her neck just to keep myself together.

Because those three words are right there, burning at the back of my throat.

I love you.

But I bite them back.

I press my lips to her neck instead, breathing her in, holding her close like maybe if I hold her tight enough, I won’t have to let her go.

When it’s over, both of us sated and breathless, I stay there for a long time, still inside her, our chests heaving in sync, her fingers lazily tracing circles on my back.

But when I finally pull back and see the tears still in her eyes, my heart twists.

She tries to wipe them away, shaking her head.

“Hey,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “Don’t cry. I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

She lets out a shaky little laugh through her tears, but it cracks halfway, and she just shakes her head again.

And that’s when I know I have to leave.

Because if I stay, I’ll say those words.

And if I say them, I won’t survive hearing her say she can’t say them back.

So, I press one last kiss to her forehead before slipping out of bed.

I dress quietly, my back to her as I tug my hoodie on, forcing my hands to stay steady.

When I make it to her door, I turn back, giving myself one more second to soak it in. To soak her in.

“Bye for now, Princess.”

Tears are silently making their way down her cheeks, and my chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.

“Bye, Carter.”

At the door to the apartment, I pause, my hand on the knob, and almost turn back.

Almost.

But instead, I shove my hands in my pockets and step out into the dark.

Because if I don’t leave now…

I never will.