Page 55 of Red Zone (PCU Storm #2)

LYLA

T he apartment is quiet when I finally unlock the door and step inside, Madison having gone home with Jaxon.

I kick my heels off by the entryway, my dress swishing softly as I pad into the living room. The faint smell of my lavender candle from earlier still lingering in the air.

I hear the door click shut behind me—and then the sound of heavy footsteps following.

When I glance over my shoulder, Carter is there.

Leaning against the doorframe, his jacket slung over one shoulder, his tie loose, and his dark eyes locked on me.

Something about the way he’s looking at me—like he’s already decided I’m his and nothing’s going to change that—sends a shiver all the way down my spine.

Neither of us says anything.

Not at first.

He drops his jacket on the back of the couch and starts toward me, each step slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving mine.

When he’s close enough, his hand comes up to brush a stray strand of hair from my cheek.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmurs, his thumb lingering at my jaw.

I can barely breathe.

But I manage to whisper, “Yeah?”

He leans closer, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “You have no idea.”

And then his mouth is on mine.

This kiss is nothing like earlier, nothing like the sweet, careful way he held me by the pool.

This is rougher.

Hotter.

Like he’s been holding back for weeks, and he finally can’t anymore.

His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head so he can deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, claiming me completely.

I whimper softly, my fingers clutching at the front of his shirt as he backs me toward the couch.

“Carter,” I breathe when he finally pulls back enough to let me breathe.

But he doesn’t stop—he presses his forehead to mine, his hands dropping to my hips and gripping tight, his voice low and possessive.

“You’re mine, Lyla. You hear me? Say it.”

I nod, my breath coming in shaky gasps. “I’m yours.”

His lips curve into a dark smile, and he captures my mouth again, harder this time, his teeth grazing my bottom lip before he pulls it between his.

I let him push me back onto the couch, his body settling between my thighs as he kisses me like he can’t get enough.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his hands gripping my hips tight. “Say it again, Princess.”

I shiver at the edge in his voice, but my own comes out steady.

“I’m yours.”

His lips curve into a dark smile before he dips his head to my neck, nipping just below my ear.

“Take this off,” he murmurs, tugging at the strap of my dress.

I reach back, fingers fumbling with the zipper until the fabric slides off my shoulders, pooling at my waist.

When he sees what’s underneath—the black lace I’d chosen without thinking about him but knowing he’d love—his jaw tightens.

“You trying to kill me?”

I can’t help the small, wicked smile that slips out. “Maybe.”

He growls low in his throat, then leans forward to kiss down my neck, his hands already moving around my back to unhook my bra and toss it aside.

“Beautiful,” he mutters against my skin, his lips hot as he trails down to my chest, giving equal attention to both of my nipples.

He takes his time exploring every inch of me with his hands and mouth, his fingers tracing the lines of my ribs and my hips, as though he needs to memorize everything.

“Lay back,” he commands softly.

I do, sinking into the cushions as his hands slip under the waistband of my panties, dragging them down slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.

He stops for a moment, his eyes raking over me like he can’t quite believe I’m real.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers hoarsely. “You don’t even know.”

I feel my cheeks heat, my chest tight with love.

And then his mouth is on me.

I gasp, my fingers sliding into his hair as his tongue works me open, his hands gripping my hips to hold me in place as he takes his time working me over with his tongue and very skilled fingers.

He doesn’t stop when my thighs start to shake, doesn’t stop when I cry out his name, doesn’t stop until I fall apart completely, my back arching off the couch.

When I collapse against the cushions, he presses one last kiss to my thigh before pulling back, his hands already unbuttoning his shirt.

I watch through half-lidded eyes as he sheds the rest of his clothes, revealing the strong, lean body I’ve missed during our time apart.

He tears a foil packet from his wallet, rolling it on before settling over me, his weight and warmth surrounding me completely.

One hand cups my cheek, his forehead resting against mine as he pauses.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice gentler now, though his eyes still burn with hunger.

I nod, my hands curling around his shoulders.

“I love you,” I whisper.

Something shifts in his expression then, a rawness flashing across his face before he kisses me, like the words undid him completely.

“I love you too, Princess,” he breathes against my lips as he pushes inside me.

The stretch is slow, steady, filling me completely, and I can’t help the soft cry that escapes my throat.

He groans low, his grip on my hip tightening as he starts to move—deep and deliberate at first, then harder, rougher, like he can’t hold back anymore.

My fingers dig into his back, my legs wrapping around him as his name falls from my lips again and again.

His mouth finds my neck, then my shoulder, then my lips again, murmuring my name between every kiss, every thrust, like he’s trying to brand me with it.

He presses his forehead into the crook of my neck, his breath hot and uneven as he whispers against my skin, “Mine.”

Over and over.

And when I fall apart beneath him again, his pace stutters, arms tightening around me as he follows, groaning my name into my neck as he spills into the condom.

We stay like that for a long time—tangled together, our bodies slick and trembling, the air between us heavy with everything we finally said tonight.

He rolls to his side eventually, pulling me with him, his hand stroking lazily down my spine as I bury my face in his chest.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice lower now, soft and possessive all at once.

I nod into his skin, my fingers tracing a faint scar on his shoulder.

“I’ve never been more okay,” I whisper.

His arms tighten around me, his lips pressing into my hair.

“Good,” he mutters. “Get used to it, Princess. You’re stuck with me now.”

His fingers curl possessively around my hip, his voice a low rumble against my hair as he whispers, “Guess we’ve been playing in the red zone all along, huh, Princess?”

I smile into his chest, my heart full to the brim, and whisper back the only answer that feels right.

“And we finally scored.”

THE END