Page 41 of False Promises

“What do you say, Carter? Wanna play with me tonight?”

I inhaled a scorching breath and pushed her hand away. “Wait. I’m here to keep you company, not to fuck you.”

She pumped me faster now.

“I want to be your friend tonight, Savannah.”

“Well, fucking me is the best way to be my friend.” The fingers of her other hand unbuttoned the front of her blouse, exposing her sinful cleavage covered by a lacy red bra.

My body tensed, all my senses on high alert. I couldn’t think clearly anymore. Our definitions of friendship were the opposite.

I regrouped my thoughts. “That’s what you want?” I asked, my voice cracking, my vocal cords vibrating with desire.

Savannah nodded.

The last thread of my restraints broke free. Something snapped in me, and soon Savannah was spread underneath me on the couch, the rise and fall of her chest hastening, her red lips parting, and her eyes glossy with lust.

And I lost it.

We were both panting, catching our breaths as we sat on her living room floor, our limbs entangled and our skin marked by our passion. Bites. Scratches. Stubble burns.

“It was… Oh god, it was out of this world.” She looked beautiful and wild with her disheveled hair and smeared lipstick.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

She nodded.

I inhaled and asked a question I never got a chance before. “Want me to spend the night?”

“Yes.”

I scratched my nape, thinking about my next question. “Wanna cuddle?” I blew out a breath. I’d never asked a woman to cuddle before. This was all new to me. And part of getting out there and giving my love life a meaning. And a real chance.

Savannah raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow, her eyes burrowing into mine. For a second, I believed she’d refuse, but then her mouth stretched into a smile. “I’d like to.”

And just like that, I spent an entire night with a woman, but most importantly, I spent the night with a woman I barely knew nestled in my arms. And it felt oddly familiar and comforting.

11

CARTER

“Carter, your relationship with Savannah Prince is big news out there,” my new publicist Carla said, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. Something she did quite often, and that annoyed the shit out of me. My label had hired her to deal with all the PR stuff, a new strategy they came out with to get their artists to sell more albums and increase their presence on social media.

Since the night I spent in Los Angeles over two months ago, pictures of Savannah Prince and I had been starting to pop up every time I flew to California and met with her.

I sighed. “Well, we’re getting to know each other better, and it’s nobody’s business. It’s not a relationship yet, so stop meddling in my personal life. It has nothing to do with my career.”

“We should talk about this. We could use it to propel you to stardom.”

Beside me, Riley chuckled. Dickhead. He usually would give her a run for her money, but for some reason, he looked amused by the battle of wills taking place in Carla’s office.

“Stardom? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m your best-selling artist. My name is a brand in itself. And I’m not trying to sound arrogant or anything. If you knew me, you’d know I couldn’t care less about any of this. But c’mon, stop trying to sell me something and make promises that make no sense.”

Riley jumped in. “Carla, you set this meeting to talk about social media, so get to the point.”

Her eyes rounded, but she recouped her surprise and schooled her features. “As I was saying, Carter’s relationship could be part of the strategy. We could tip paparazzi so they would follow his whereabouts and take pictures and increase his exposure.”

“Please. Stop. I’m not your media clown,’” I said. “Not doing it. Find something else, or I’m out of here. And, by the way, we’re not in a relationship. Stop calling it that. We fucked on the side a few times and get along fine. Not my fault if somehow, someone followed us last weekend and snapped a few juicy pictures of us. We’re two adults who are having fun. Nothing to stir anyone’s attention or go crazy about.”