Alpha Kiss Me

Chapter Thirty Three

Neither Carter nor I ate much tonight. Luke was friendly, extremely friendly actually. He was kind and hilarious, and his red hair made me miss Mark extremely badly. Even though the last few times we have encountered each other haven’t been the cheeriest, I still miss him loads. I even find myself missing Victor, sure he’s an ass hole, but he did find me in the back of that van. He saved me from Carter’s father. My stomach churns at the thought of that. I know Carter killed his father, his own father, but we never really talked about it. Of course we don’t talk much about anything. And since this is our last night together for a while I don’t want to ruin everything by nosing in on his business even though technically it is my business too.

I hear the shower turn off, and my stomach starts doing random flips in my stomach. Why am I so nervous? Or is it excitement? Or is it both?

After a few moments Carter steps out of the shower, with sweatpants low on his hips and his upper body in full view, and I find myself taking advantage of that. He chuckles, “Enjoying yourself I see.”

I stick my tongue out at him, and he just laughs. I find myself smiling through my embarrassment. I love when he smiles, absolutely love it. He tosses the navy blue shirt that he was wearing earlier today at me. I flinch away, not expecting that, I just end up tumbling off the bed, practically doing a backflip and laying on the floor with a thud.

The shirt floats down and lands on my face, and I just groan in pain. Carter’s laughter fills the room, and I rip the shirt off my face, and Carter looks like he is causing himself pain from laughing so hard. Serves him right. He tries to control his laughter but when he sees my hair in a mess on my face and my eyes glaring at him he just cracks up all over again.

I manage to get up, no thanks to my prince charming, and wave the shirt around in the air, “Why did you throw this at me?”

He stifles his laughter, a large grin plastered on his handsome face. I find my anger decreasing greatly when I realize that he is smiling, and that he has dimples. “I figured you would like something to sleep in.”

The blush on my face is probably just getting worse at this point, so I just walk past Carter without saying a word, trying to regain some of my dignity.

I close the bathroom door and shed my pants and sweatshirt, and slip on Carter’s shirt. His musky scent fills my nostrils, and I find myself just wanting to burry my face in his shirt. The shirt comes to just above my knees so I don’t think I need to put my sweatpants on.

When I open the door Carter is already laying on the bed, still smiling like an idiot. I pout playfully at him and then jump on the bed, and sit down next to him. I poke one if his dimples, and say “Aw, aren’t you just too cute?”

He lightly slaps my hand away, and buries his face in the pillow, but before he does I catch the glimpse of a blush on his face. I practically squeal like a little school girl, and pound on his back, “ARE YOU BLUSHING!?!”