“And who
is
the real Lorraine?” he asked. “What does she want?”
“Right now she wants this.” Lorraine pulled his head down and touched her lips to his.
The kiss was slow, sensual. Carter’s skin tingled, as if being attacked by a million pinpricks. He rubbed his hands up and down Lorraine’s sides, finally slipping one up her back and going for the single clasp of her bra. He unhooked it and quickly moved his palms to her breasts, caressing them underneath her sweater.
Lorraine moaned against his mouth, her body relaxing into him.
Carter wanted to continue the slow, sweet kiss, but his body wouldn’t allow it. It was screaming for her.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.
Once there, he returned to her lips. He couldn’t get enough of her, or how she made him feel with every sexy moan that escaped her throat. She pulled off her sweater and tossed it in a move that was so contradictory to her usually proper demeanor, Carter nearly laughed out loud. But he couldn’t get a sound past the thick knot of lust lodged in his throat. Standing before him in nothing but her skirt, she was like a fantasy come to life.
Carter laid her on his bed, following her down, stretching over her body. He bent his head over one breast, pulling the taut peak between his lips as his free hand snaked beneath her skirt. He caught one edge of her panties, and Lorraine caught the other side. Together they pulled the satin down her legs.
Her breaths came in hurried, shallow pants. The sexy sound pulsed in his brain, an aphrodisiac lighting his body on fire.
Carter lifted himself up long enough to grab a condom from the top drawer of the nightstand. He ripped the package open with his teeth, unzipped his pants, pulled himself out and rolled the latex over his erection, his hand shaking in anticipation.
With all the finesse of a sixteen-year-old virgin, he pushed Lorraine’s skirt up, spread her legs and entered her.
The heat was unreal. He tried to keep himself still long enough to concentrate on how her incredibly tight body felt wrapped around him, but the compulsion to pump his hips was too great. He moved in and out of her in rapid succession, pistoning his hips, lifting her off the bed with the force of his movement.
Lorraine’s arms locked tight around his neck, and her thighs locked even tighter around his waist. Carter buried his head against the curve of her neck, opening his mouth and sucking on her moist, fragrant skin.
After just a few long, strong strokes, he felt Lorraine’s body clench around his shaft. She screamed, clawing at his back, her nails biting into his skin even through his shirt.
Carter bit down on her neck as his release rushed out of him. He collapsed on top of her, his shaking limbs unable to hold him up a moment longer. He was completely spent; embarrassingly so.
Shit, he hadn’t even pulled his pants down.
“Damn, Lorraine. I’m sorry.”
She peered up at him. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I’m usually good for more than five minutes,” he said, willing his limbs the strength to push off of her. “I’ve never come that fast before.”
He flopped on the bed, his chest heaving with his labored breaths.
“Actually, I believe it was closer to four minutes, but who’s watching the clock?” Her teasing laugh floated around the bedroom.
Carter let out a groan. “This is embarrassing.”
“Stop it,” she admonished. “I’m only teasing you, Carter.” She turned onto her side, bracing her chin in her upturned palm. “It was perfect.”
“No, it was definitely not perfect,” he said, capturing Lorraine’s tiny waist and hoisting her up until she straddled his lap. “But give me a few minutes to recover. I’ll show you perfect.”
An hour later, Carter was certain he was on the verge of cardiac arrest. His heart was beating at such a rapid pace it felt as if it were banging on the walls of his chest. Once again, he found himself flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath.
“This is excessive,” Lorraine blew out on a ragged sigh.
“I think we passed excessive after the third time. I don’t know what you would call this.”
He levered himself up on one elbow and stared down at her. Her fair skin was flushed from their marathon lovemaking, her cheekbones a delicate pink. With her thick, highlighted hair fanned around her, she looked like a goddess lying there on his sheets.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Carter said, his chest tightening with his swift realization. She was easily one of the sexiest, most beautiful women he’d ever taken to bed. The way her honeyed skin glistened, she seemed almost otherworldly, like an angel sent down from heaven.
Yet, when he’d first laid eyes on her, Carter had dismissed her as not being his type. Nothing had changed about her appearance, so why was he all of a sudden seeing her in such a different light?
An uncomfortable heaviness settled in Carter’s chest, weighing him down. He felt an overwhelming need to evade this new, unfamiliar feeling stirring in his gut. He was afraid to examine it, afraid of what he would find if he explored why just the thought of the woman stretched out beside him made his heart ache with tenderness, his pulse quicken with desire.
Why did being with Lorraine feel so different from all the other women he’d taken to bed?
Carter covered his eyes with his forearm and swallowed a groan, determined to block out the four-letter word that throbbed in his brain. This wasn’t love. Love didn’t happen this quickly. He wasn’t convinced it happened at all for some people, himself in particular.
He was the carefree one, the one destined to be like his perpetually single father. If he couldn’t get with one woman, another was usually there, waiting in the wings.
Yet, if there was another woman waiting for him, Carter knew he would dismiss her in an instant. He didn’t want anyone else, only the woman lying next to him.
And it scared the hell out of him.
Carter pushed himself up from the bed. The need to put some distance between what had just happened and what he was feeling all but consumed him. He grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from his drawer and went into the bathroom to clean up and change. When he reentered his bedroom, Lorraine was sitting up in the bed, covered in a sheet, her hands wrapped around her legs.
They stared at each other for several moments, not saying anything.
“Do you—”
“Perhaps I should—”
Carter gestured for her to go first.
“I was going to say that I should probably return home,” she said. “It’s late.”
Carter remained silent. Something told him that letting her go was the wrong thing to do. They needed to talk, to sort this out. But something even stronger reasoned that letting her go was exactly what he should do. Before he sorted anything out with Lorraine, he first needed to sort it out in his own head.
“Okay,” he answered her. Carter thought he saw her flinch, but it was so fleeting he couldn’t be sure. “Do you need me to bring you home?”
She pulled in a deep breath, and said, “No. I can call a cab.”
“Okay, then.” That was definitely hurt that he saw flash across her face. “Wait,” he started to say, but Lorraine held her hand up.
“No, it’s fine.” Her head bobbed with a curt nod. “I’m fine.”
She pushed up from the bed, picked her clothes up from the floor and went into the bathroom. Carter walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He leaned against the counter and gulped down half of it.
He was being an asshole.
But he didn’t know what else to do. This was uncharted territory, and it was seriously scaring the hell out of him. He didn’t do the emotional stuff. He didn’t know how to make it all work. Just look at the role model he’d had. Devon Drayson, Mr. Noncommitment.
Lorraine emerged from his bedroom, dressed in the cream-colored suit she’d worn to her sister’s bridal shower, and looking as if she’d just stepped out of a boardroom instead of a bedroom.
Carter grabbed his keys. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No.” She held up her cell phone. “I’ve already called a cab. They should be downstairs by the time I get there.”
Don’t let her take the cab,
his conscience demanded. But he dropped the keys back onto the counter.
Lorraine stared at the keys, then at him. In a shallow voice, she said, “Good night, Carter.”
He swallowed past the uncomfortable lump clogging his throat. “Good night,” he managed to get out.
And he let her go.
* * *
Lorraine unlocked the door to the penthouse, walked inside and yelped.
“Where have you been?” her mother demanded.
She clutched a hand to her chest. “My goodness, Mother. You scared me half to death.”
“You’ve been with that baker,” her mother said, her voice oozing accusation and reproach.
“Would you please stop referring to him as ‘that baker’? He is more than just a baker.”
“What a relief to know that my daughter doesn’t wrap her arms around just anyone. Although I certainly do not approve of the way you let him kiss you, as if there was no one else around.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Mother, it’s not as if we started doing it in front of you.”
“Lorraine!”
“His name is Carter Drayson,” she said over her mother’s shriek. “He is the head artisan cake baker at Lillian’s.”
“Yes, he imparted that much when he delivered Trina’s cake. But I don’t care what kind of cakes he bakes, he is still
just
a baker, Lorraine.”
“He is also the grandson of Lillian and Henry Drayson, the same Draysons who own that building on Michigan Avenue and that huge estate in Glenville Heights, along with several other properties around the city.”
Just that quickly, her mother’s entire demeanor changed. Lorraine felt physically ill. How could anyone be so shamelessly shallow?
“You are unbelievable,” Lorraine said. “Now that you know he is from a wealthy family, Carter is suddenly acceptable in your eyes?”
“I did not say he was acceptable,” Abigail hissed. She lifted her chin in the air. “But it does make a difference. If he has his own money, he won’t be after yours. I gather this is the same man you were plastered against in the newspaper? Stuart showed me the photo.”
Count on her brother to not mention it to her, but to go straight to their parents.
“Mother, just leave this alone. Please. I like Carter. He likes me. It shouldn’t matter that he’s a Drayson.”
“Someone needs to look out for you, Lorraine. You don’t always make the wisest choices when it comes to men.”
“I am not an imbecile. Yes, I made a horrible mistake five years ago. But do you know what is so wonderful about mistakes, Mother? A person can learn from them.”
“And have you?” her mother charged. “Have you really learned, Lorraine? Or did you let yourself get swept up in this Carter person before you even knew who he really was?”
“Why does that matter? Even if Carter really was just a baker at Lillian’s, it should not matter. Not every man is like Broderick.” She pointed an accusing finger at her mother. “You had no right to treat Carter the way you did today.”
“I had every right. I was looking out for you.”
“I am not a child. I don’t need you to look out for me.”
Her mother clenched her lips and jutted out her jaw. “Fine. I was looking out for the Hawthorne-Hayes name. You tend to forget that what you do has consequences not only for you, but for this entire family. I will not allow you to bring shame upon this family again.”
Lorraine closed her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath and warily blew it out. “How many times will I have to apologize?”
“You’ve apologized enough. You need to demonstrate how sorry you are by not making those same stupid choices again.”
“I am not going to stop seeing Carter,” Lorraine stated, her tone resolute.
“Fine,” her mother said again. “But if he turns out to be just like that other bastard, don’t run to me and your father to bail you out. Is that clear?”
Lorraine held her head up. “Crystal clear.”
Her mother subjected her to her most superior stare, the one Lorraine had witnessed throughout her childhood. She knew better than to be fooled by the outwardly calm expression; Lorraine could tell by the slight flare of her nostrils that Abigail was beyond enraged. Part of it was more than likely due to her lack of control over the situation. Her mother thrived on controlling every aspect of her family.
But Lorraine also acknowledged that some of Abigail’s vehemence was warranted. When it came to Carter’s integrity and motives, all her mother had to go on was Lorraine’s judgment, which, admittedly, had been flawed in the past. Other than Lorraine’s word, Abigail had no way of knowing if Carter’s intentions were honorable. For that matter, neither did Lorraine.
After tonight, she wasn’t so sure of his intentions, either.
She went into her bedroom, trying to block the feelings of uncertainty that clawed up her throat as she recalled Carter’s change in demeanor after they’d made love. He’d pulled away, both physically and emotionally. It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man that Lorraine hadn’t been sure exactly what to expect, but she certainly had not anticipated his distant, almost cold reaction.
Was Carter just looking for sex, and now that he’d gotten it, was he done? Had she foolishly allowed herself to be used again?
She stared into her bathroom mirror, unsure what to think of the woman staring back at her. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she just was not capable of making sound choices when it came to men.
“I trusted you, Carter Drayson,” Lorraine whispered. “Please don’t make me regret it.”
Chapter 8
“D
ammit!”
Carter put his hands on his hips and stared at the entire bowl of buttercream frosting splattered across the floor.
“What’s going on with you?” Malik asked, walking up to him. “First you overcook the lemon filling, and now this?”
Carter grabbed a towel from the counter and started cleaning up the mess. “I’m just tired,” he said. Malik’s chuckle grated on his nerves. He looked over his shoulder. “What’s so damn funny?”