Page 16 of Venus

The next time I see Carter, we’re with the whole crew. Callie, Jackson, Trevor, and a mixture of hospital staff and firefighters. We’re loud, but that’s just because we know how to have a good time. We crowd into the parking lot of an old bowling alley on the edge of town.

Whoever decided that a glitchy, sticky arcade filled with neon signs should get stuck to a bowling alley with pins that look like they’ve been scavenged from a dumpster?

Genius.

Sure, maybe the bathrooms are gross enough to make you hold your bladder the whole night and maybe there’s a rat the size of a baby lingering somewhere in the kitchen, but this is the kind of place where real memories are made.

I’ve traded in my crop tops and denim shorts for leggings and a sweater. Still got my boots, though.

Mostly to protect my feet from whatever diseases are multiplying in the old carpet. This place has scarier floors than the hospital .

Carter and I slide in behind everyone else, not in any rush. We’ve got all night. Three whole days of no shifts, no commitments, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.

Carter and I have been texting a ton since he jumped me in the supply closet at work, and I find myself missing him when he’s busy.

Missing him a lot.

Silence without him is so uncomfortable. It’s got this tension to it that I’m not sure I like. But as soon as I saw him across the parking lot, stepping out of his old truck and meeting my eyes, I felt…okay. Normal. At peace.

Inside the arcade, the group naturally splits into smaller groups. Some go to the bar. Some go to grab shoes and a bowling lane. Others exchange their loose bills for arcade tokens.

Naturally, the boys insist they can dominate anyone at skee-ball. Men seem to think that about anything that requires low brain power, zero strategy, and a big ego.

They’re gonna learn today.

I slide a few tokens into the machine, tie up my hair, and grab a ball. I lightly toss it into the air in challenge. “Y’all ready to get humbled?”

Callie gives me a knowing smirk. Trevor rolls his eyes like I’ve personally insulted every ounce of masculinity in his steroid-pumped muscles. Jackson snickers like he thinks my bravery’s cute .

Carter? He looks ready for war. “Game on,” he taunts.

“Show me what you’ve got, big man.”

And he does. He makes some good shots in the beginning, but sinks his last four. Jackson does even worse.

Trevor? He doesn’t even score 5,000 points.

He shrugs as if it’s not bothering him. “It’s just skee-ball. Who cares?”

I make a crying face and pretend to rub my eyes, mocking him. “Awww, is the little baby gonna cry because he’s gonna lose to a girl?”

“Big words coming from someone who hasn’t even played yet,” Carter interjects, defending his friend’s honor.

I turn around, line up my shot, and sink my first ball into the 50,000 point slot at the top. Clean.

Carter looks at me, mouth wide in disbelief. “What the hell?”

I stick my tongue out. “What was that about big words?” I ask, before sinking yet another shot. This time in the 10,000 point hole.

Eight balls later, and I’ve beaten the high score in the arcade, triumphantly typing ‘Venus’ into the screen.

I don’t even have to gloat, the boys know their place.

When I turn around from the high-score screen, Carter is leaning against the wall behind me.

He’s got this quiet, focused look on his face.

Something like yearning. Like he’s been studying me and not the scoreboard .

Eventually, the group gets smaller. More intimate. Trevor and Jackson head straight for the snack bar. Callie left with a wink and is flirting with one of the other firefighters, leaving Carter and I alone.

He knows what I want. I’ve been throwing him sultry glances and accidental touches all night. I don’t say anything. I simply turn my back to him and head in the direction of the restrooms and storage closets that hide in the very back corner of the arcade.

I know he’ll follow. I can feel it in his stare. In his energy.

I slip into the storage closet and he slips in right behind me. The old wooden door shuts away the rest of the world, leaving us in the dark.

“This looks familiar,” he says with a knowing glint in his eyes.

I meet his stare and hoist myself up onto an old shelf. He clicks on the overhead light, a single bulb above our heads. It hums as if it’s a giant alarm telling everyone how much sexual tension is concealed behind the door.

The room smells like lemon-scented floor cleaner, but the air was thick with something more than just that chemical smell. It was desire. Heat. Want.

Maybe even something I’m too afraid to admit.

From his place at the door, Carter prowls toward me like a predator calculating his attack. His eyes trace up and down my body like he’s never seen it before. The fabric at the front of his pants is taut from the strain behind them .

When he positions himself in front of me, he drops to his knees with a soft thud. His eyes stare into my soul, sharklike with the ache to touch me–to taste me.

I forget how to breathe as he pulls my leggings down my legs with slow, calculated precision. He doesn’t even bother taking them all the way off. He gets them about halfway down my calves and then hoists my legs over his shoulders.

He takes a deep breath as he stares at my sex, and the warmth from his mouth sends shivers up my spine. My fingers wrap around the edge of the shelf, and when that’s not enough, I wrap them in his hair.

When his tongue delves into me, I throw my head back and sigh, and then he does that thing with his tongue he knows I like. The one where he circles my clit with just enough pressure to make me–

“Ah, Carter,” I moan.

“We’re just getting started, V. Someone’s worked up.”

I let out half a laugh before I suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of him licking up and down my center.

I try not to fall apart completely as he takes his time.

He works me over like it’s his favorite thing to do.

Like with everything in his life, he’s laser focused.

Methodical and maybe just a little bit cruel because he knows I like that.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing me so close to the edge only to pull back and start over again. He edges me until I’m nearly in tears, crying his name and begging for him to fuck me like only he can .

Just when I think he’s about to give me what I want, he pulls back and moves my legs from off his shoulders.

“Carter!” I groan out, horny and frustrated and dripping wet.

His mouth is glistening, and his eyes are hot enough to set me on fire.

Vulcan, indeed.

“If you want more,” he says, low and smug as he licks his lips, “you’ll have to wait.”

My mouth falls open. “That is messed up.”

“You’ll live,” he says with a grin.

“Next time you want me to suck your dick, I’ll remember this.”

He winks at me. “Looking forward to it.”

Then he backs out of the room and steps into the men’s bathroom to wash off his face, leaving me standing there in a cupboard and wetter than the mop.

It takes me a few minutes to remember how to use my legs for anything other than spreading them for a firefighter with a skillful tongue. When I emerge, Carter is leaning against the wall, arms and legs crossed. The picture of smug nonchalance.

“You look cute when you’re blushing,” he teases.

“You’d look cute with my foot three feet up your ass.”

“Kinky. ”

I roll my eyes and we join the rest of the crew again. If anyone knows about how we just defiled that closet, they say nothing.

Later in the night, long after everyone should be in bed, including me, I show up at Carter’s door.

No heads up. No text. I just…show up. I don’t even know why I do, and I don’t remember the drive here. I haven’t even changed or showered yet, too preoccupied with thoughts of him.

He opens the door, looking half surprised and half like he’s expecting a confession.

I don’t give him one. Instead, I step into his apartment with no rush, no teasing, no tension.

Just him and I and the space between our bodies slowly fading away. I think a part of me knows this isn’t casual anymore, but I can’t allow that. I don’t want it and he knows it.

I need to let this all go before I start falling harder, but I can’t. I don’t want to.

I can’t be with him. He knows it, even if he doesn’t see me in the same broken way that I do.

But I also feel sick at the thought of never seeing him again after this is all over. I can’t see us just being…friends after all of this .

But all of those thoughts fade away when he kisses me like he’s been waiting to do it all night. It’s filled with everything he shouldn’t say to me, so he has to show me instead.

I let him undress me piece by piece, and let his hands learn every inch of me like it matters how well he knows it. Like I’m not meant to be just another body in the dark.

When we land on the bed, he doesn’t fuck me frantically. He doesn’t fight me for control. He doesn’t try to impress me.

It’s just us. Him and I, letting ourselves fit together like the puzzle pieces he so desperately wants us to be.

After we finish, I lie with my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat in the heavy but warm silence. I trace shapes on his chest like I’ve done a dozen times before.

“So are you always that bad at skee-ball?” I ask quietly.

He laughs, low and gravely. “Maybe I just like letting you win.”

I smile against his bare skin. “Sure you do.”

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. The world keeps spinning, but right here, in this room, wrapped up in this man who so clearly adores me, I feel like things might be okay.

And that scares me more than anything.