Untouchable (Untouchables, #1)

by Sam Mariano

Carter shakes his head at her, climbing off me. “Fucking cockblock.” “You’ll thank me tomorrow when she’s sober,” she advises him.

“Well, I’m not on the pill,” I inform him. “Well, you should probably get on it then, huh?” he returns, reaching over and snaking an arm under me so he can gather me against his chest. “Future birth control doesn’t do any good tonight,” I mutter at

I’ll be doubly pissed if he gives me a baby. He’ll never hear the end of it.

“Funny, I could swear I had it in my purse,” I tell him. “And I could swear you were white girl wasted, so you probably shouldn’t trust your own account of events.” I shake my head at him. “You didn’t seem to think I was too white girl wasted for rational thought last night, as I recall.” Carter loops an arm around my waist and pulls me in, gazing down at me rather fondly, given the topic of discussion. “You know who I am, princess. You knew what you signed up for.”

“That’s all right, I kinda like knowing I’ll still be on you when I see you later today.” I widen my eyes at him. “That’s… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

I don’t care what my classmates think about me, but thinking of the disappointment on Mr. Hassenfeld’s face if I showed up to class pregnant makes me feel wretched. Such a shame. She had such a bright future ahead of her. I pull my phone out of my pocket with unsteady hands. I need to make an appointment to get birth control. I need to never sleep with Carter again.

I derive pleasure from studyin’ my ass off? It’s not. It’s because scholarships are the only chance I have of getting the hell out of this godforsaken town. I don’t have a golden ticket to one of the best schools in the country, I don’t have rich parents to pay for it even if I did—the world is not my fuckin’ oyster. I cannot afford to blow everything I’ve worked so hard for over a guy.”

“I used to be a perfectionist,” I announce, figuring I should probably explain my outburst. “Well, thank God you overcame that,” Carter shoots back wryly. “I didn’t mean to yell at you,” I add.

He’s smiling at me, his amused gaze raking over my Longhorn gear. “Did Hell have to freeze over to get you here, or is Carter really that good and he’s already made his way between your legs?” My face flames at the truth in that comment, but I narrow my eyes at him, anyway. “Nice to see you, too, Jake.”

Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I ask, “Oh, are not all dicks that thick? Sorry, I’ve only seen Carter’s.” Now he loses his smile.

Ugh, Erika. I’ll feel mean saying she can’t come though, so I offer back, “It’s up to you.” “That’s a no,” he interprets, nodding. “All right, no problem.” He kisses me again, then releases me before I can respond and jogs back out on the field where his teammates are still celebrating.

You must feel pretty proud of yourself.” Frowning, I say, “That seems like an odd feeling to accompany intimacy with my boyfriend.”

“I don’t think Carter’s that hung up on morality, but if there’s a point anywhere in the near vicinity…”

Carter is shifting his favor to these two now because of their easy acceptance of me, their willingness to turn on a dime and welcome me into the fold after happily hating me before.

“She’s tapping into my existing concerns and exacerbating them,” I state.

“Ah, yes. With the pastor who wants to bone you.” I roll my eyes. “With my married pastor who definitely does not want to bone me.”

I cock my head. “Do you actually want me to respond, or are you just gonna keep pretendin’ I’m not here?” “I think I can keep it can going by myself, but thanks for the offer,” he returns lightly. “I can’t spend the night,” I state.

“Why are you sitting next to me in this scenario? Are you stalking me? Do we have a bad break-up and you just can’t let go? I cheat on you with Erika, don’t I?” Cocking his head, he says, “I’d watch that.” I roll my eyes and shove him in the shoulder. “Ew.” “Anyway, no, I’m not stalking you. We’re married.” Laughter bubbles up and I can’t quite keep it in. “We are?”

I hauled your ass back to my apartment and made you mine. Eventually we got married, something about you wanting babies to play in leaf piles. They’re asleep upstairs while my accomplished wife celebrates her big brain with her snobby friends. I don’t like many of them, myself, but I have plenty of snobby friends you don’t like, too.” “Oh, well, that seems fair, then.” He nods. “It works out. Then, at the end of the day, we can both take off our public faces, shake off our snobby colleagues, and reconnect with what’s real. Every night, I curl up with a woman who knows me and likes me anyway, and every night, you get to curl up beside a man who finds you as endlessly fascinating as you find your work.”

relationship, I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want him to smash my heart into pieces so small, it will never be the same, and land a massive blow to my pride on top of it, because the red flags were out in the open, blowing in the breeze, and I ignored all of them to try to connect with him.

“Doesn’t matter. The point is, I protect myself and my own interests. You’re one of my interests. You’re safe. I want you;

“I need the extra nourishment,” I inform him, lifting my eyebrows. “I’m probably eatin’ for two.” “Jesus Christ,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m getting married in five years? To someone else? Why are you still in Texas? I feel like you left a lot out of the missing years, here. Anyway, you could just get an abortion and go on about your life,” he points out. “I’m spendin’ both of my weekend days at church, Carter. You really think I’m gonna get an abortion because you can’t be bothered to wrap it up? Nope. I would have the baby and curse you forever.”

“Next time you fuck me without a condom, I’m buyin’ myself a ‘baby on board’ maternity shirt, and it’s all I’m ever going to wear around you.” “You are a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he asks, opening a drawer and grabbing some silverware. I grab some while he has it open. “Wait until my pregnancy hormones kick in.” “For fuck’s sake, you are not pregnant.” “No thanks to you,” I mutter.

“And my back is already aching from carrying around your spawn. I hope you’re plannin’ to give me a back rub later.” “Are your feet swelling up, too? Maybe I should just buy you a whole spa day.” “I mean, it’s the least you could do for the mother of your child.”

“She can’t be that good, if she’s having sleepovers with you,” his dad murmurs, lifting his coffee to his lips and turning his attention back to his paper. “Oh, Kevin,” his mom finally fusses, shaking her head. Offering me an apologetic smile, she says, “Don’t mind him, dear. He’s a grump before he’s finished his morning coffee. He doesn’t mean any of that.”

“I have officially met the parents. I hope you don’t think we’re bringin’ the baby back here for holidays though, because… no.”

“Have fun getting ready for church with Pastor Boner.” “You’re goin’ to Hell for callin’ him that,” I inform him. “I’m going to Hell for a lot of things,” he assures me.

If he were a normal guy, I would refuse to have sex with him until a month has passed and I can get some birth control in my system, or he decides to put a condom on his dick before we have sex. Given he’s Carter, that won’t work. I don’t want to break up with him. I like dating him so far, but I don’t like all the shots he’s taking at my womb. Frankly, it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t seem like he thinks he’s invincible, yet he doesn’t seem worried about it happening,

“I’m growing increasingly worried that you’re startin’ to view knockin’ me up as a way to lock down a dedicated nanny.” “And lover,” he adds. “I’m seeing a lot of perks.”

“Your dad. You live with your mom and a stepdad, right? You’ve never mentioned your father. What happened to him?” I don’t like that question. It’s unreasonable to be annoyed by such a common inquiry, but I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to pin my fears about him on an absent, disappointing father—and I have an absent, disappointing father, so if I tell him that, he’ll be able to. “I don’t have daddy issues,” I say instead.

“I have no desire to,” I mutter, annoyed at him now for digging. “He broke my mom’s heart and abandoned all of his responsibilities. He’s dead to me.”

“Haven’t I met enough of your family members for one day? Give a girl a break, would ya?” The corners of Carter’s mouth tilt up. “This is a make-up meeting. Since the one earlier went so poorly, I wanted to bring you to meet my sister. She’s cool, you’ll like her.”

What kind of man will he be after an Ivy League law school teaches him new tips and tricks? “What?” he asks since I’m shaking my head at him. “I just can’t decide if I should be envious of or feel bad for your future wife.” Smiling, Carter drapes an arm around my shoulder. “I’m gonna marry you, remember? You don’t strike me as the type to spend a lot of time feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I don’t doubt it. Give it a month, I’ll be so annoyed at how well you’re doing without me—not to mention I’ll miss you so much—I’ll come crawling right back.” Grinning over at him, I ask, “Do you crawl?” “Well, no,” he admits. “But I’ll stride in, throw you over my shoulder caveman style,

“Yes, please do,” Carter says. As soon as Caroline walks away, I ask, “Who is Marla?” “Number 19,” he offers back. Oh. “Did you date, or…?” “Or,” he answers, shooting me a little smirk and winking at me. Shameless. Carter Mahoney is shameless.

I don’t understand why it doesn’t terrify you. It terrifies me.” “Because you have it in your head it would ruin your life,” he says, simply. “Why don’t you?” This is the part I don’t understand. “Because I know it doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t know,” he adds, like that might help. “She thinks I’m her brother. She’s little, so she doesn’t question it.”

He’s trying to train me. That’s funny, since I’m trying to train him, too. Oh well. I guess it works out if we train each other.

This explosion of hormones and affection has left me vulnerable; the hit of oxytocin makes me feel fonder of him,

Instead of getting freaked out, though, Carter grins. “Oh yeah? Damn, I must have fucked you good.” I smile back with faint relief and nod my head. “So good.”

“No, of all the things I knew I would have to deal with, this certainly wasn’t one,” I admit. “But that’s entirely up to you, don’t factor me into that decision. Do whatever you think is best for you and Chloe. I’m flexible. I can adjust.” “It’s not a deal-breaker, though?” he asks, for verification. “No, of course not.

“Yes, Zoey, I’m a selfish monster. I think only of myself, always. None of your opinions or worldviews matter to me. You’re just a trophy I can fuck.” My stomach drops at the possibility of truth in those words, and I take a step back. Raking a hand through his hair, Carter says, “Jesus Christ. It was a joke, Zoey.” “That’s a weird joke,” I tell him. “Trophy? That’s not a term I would’ve associated with myself. I’m not exactly a catch in this town. What makes me a trophy?” This time, he knows better than to answer, but the gleam in his eye fuels my own suspicions and all of a sudden I know.

“Caught your mom before she went to bed. Told her we were fighting, and I really needed to talk to you. She let me come right up.” Crawling forward, he adds, “Your mom kind of sucks.”

“Now, that’s where we disagree,” he tells me, pulling me beneath him and straddling my hips. “You broke up. I didn’t agree to it.” “You can’t reject my break-up. When one person initiates a break-up, the other person has no choice but to accept it. Have you never been dumped before?”

What happened with her was before we officially got together. I know that’s a technicality, I know it still fucking sucks, and I’m sorry for that. But this is not something you and I break up over. I don’t care about Erika. She’s dead to me. I’ll never be alone with her again, you have my word on that. I care about you, I care about us, I care about the future I can see us having,

I wish I could argue that, but I can’t. No, I can’t be positive I’m making the right decision, but I think the chances are good I would regret staying with Carter more than I’ll ever regret leaving him. I’m not going to say that to him. I’ve said enough and I really don’t feel like being mean.

It’s not enough to ignore him—I want to ignore him so hard it hurts. I want him to feel a sudden Arctic chill from the blast of my coldness.

“And yet when you asked me to stay with you, I told you no thanks.” I cock my head, tapping my chin as if confused. “Funny, that doesn’t sound like someone who wants you.”

Easily deflecting my well-placed shot, Carter smiles at me. “I can do ‘mean’ a whole lot better than you, princess. I wouldn’t go there, if I were you.” “You think so?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. “You make me feel pretty mean sometimes. For instance, right now. I’d like to scratch your face off.”