And his electric gaze locks with mine. His stick lifts in slow motion, pointing. At me. Carter Beckett points his damn stick right at me. And he winks. He fucking winks. For you, his perfect lips mouth to me. Oh. No. The cameras pan my way, my vision bursting with flashing white lights as I slink so far down in my seat, fingers creeping up my face, burying it in my hands. But Carter’s not done. Oh no, of course not. He wouldn’t be Carter Beckett if he simply ended it there. He jumps onto the bench, gloves pressed to the glass, grinning down at me. “You like that, Olivia?” he hollers. “That was
...more
