“Did I win?” “No,” I grumble, kicking off my heels. “I haven’t kissed you.” Still grinning, still way too smug. “We’re supposed to be taking this slow.” “I know.” “So no kissing.” “Right.” “Would it make you feel better if you won?” “I don’t—” Carter swallows my words with his mouth, his fingers plunging through my hair as my back hits the closet in the front hall. His hand slides up my leg, beneath my dress, wrapping around my bare hip as I grind myself into him. “Fuck slow,” he growls. “I can’t do slow. Not with you.”
