Friend Is a Four Letter Word (26 page)

He grips under my bum and hoists me up. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist—where they belong and he carries me to his room—
our room
.

I feel Carter’s arm slip out from under me and squeeze my eyes closed even tighter, because I don’t want this moment to end.

“Shay,” he whispers. “Doll, I’ve got to get to work.”

I barely crack my eyes open. He’s sitting beside me bare-chested, in a pair of boxers. There’s no way I’m letting him leave.

“But it’s so early! It’s barely even light out!” I argue, holding my arms out.

Carter chuckles, pulls me in for a long, sweet kiss, and then lays me back down. “It’s after eight o’clock, baby.”

“Stay,” I whine, pawing at his arm before he can make a full exit from our cocoon.

He runs his hand through his adorably messy bedhead. “You have no idea how tempted I am.” For a second his eyes go dark, and I’m positive he’s going to get back in this bed and do unthinkably sexy things with me. But he shakes his head and backs up, like he knows putting distance between us is necessary if he has any chance of making it to work. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get some things done at the office; I can’t afford to miss right now. You get back to sleep though.”

I stretch out, ignoring the fact that I’m still nude under the sheet that’s barely draped around me. I feel Carter’s eyes rake over me just as he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Really?” he grits out. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What’s wrong?” I ask in my best innocent voice. I sit up so the sheet slides down and bunches around my waist. I love the way his eyes go wide. I reach out and lay the back of my hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need to come back to bed?”

He groans and kisses the inside of my wrist before he presses me back onto the bed and tucks the sheet under my chin. “Very funny. Good God I wish I could.”

“Oh, fine,” I say. I sit up again, grab Carter’s button up shirt from the heap of clothing that we playfully discarded hours before, and slip it on. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“We should go on a date,” Carter proclaims.

“What was last night?” I laugh.

He leans in and nips at my bottom lip. “Last night was…” His voice breaks up into a throaty, satisfied chuckle. “A real date. I don’t think I’ve ever taken you on one.”

I tilt my head to the side and tap my finger to my chin teasingly. “I don’t know. I mean, first dates are always so awkward. There’s the whole: Will he kiss me? How will this end? Will he-”

Carter slips his palm under the white cotton of the shirt I’ve claimed and pushes me back down onto the mattress.

His voice is a hungry growl, “Get back in bed and I’ll show you how it’s going to end.”

Our home is built on imperfections, craziness, laughter, romance, and love.

And it’s exactly what we’ve both been searching for for so long.

Steph Campbell grew up in Southern California, moved to the Bayou State for a decade and most recently resides in the Northeast. She has one husband, four children and a serious nail polish obsession. When she’s not writing or taking care of her brood, she’s reading or scouring travel sites, always ready for life’s next adventure.

You can find Steph on
Twitter
,
Facebook
, her
blog
or email at [email protected]

Other books by Steph are:

Delicate

Grounding Quinn

Beautiful Things Never Last

Co-Written with Liz Reinhardt:

Lengths
,
Depths
,
Limits
,
Ties
,
Riptides
,
Drift

A Toast to the Good Times

Co-Written with Jolene Perry:

My Heart for Yours

My Fate for Yours

Struggling with alcohol use?

There’s support available.

So many people make each book possible and deserve special thanks—

My husband Chris, who takes care of the kids and the house like a boss and brings me Red Bull and breakfast burritos without me having to ask;

My darling kiddos: Hailey, Liam, Finn and Britta. You make everything worthwhile. Thanks for sticking together and helping each other. Thanks for peeking in while I’m writing to make me laugh with a funny Buzz Feed post, to tell me about a new thing you’ve done on Minecraft that you’re so excited about, to sing me the new song you learned or to let me kiss your fuzzy head before you go to bed… I love you.

Friends like Liz Reinhardt and Jolene Perry who know my characters almost as well as I do and give the best feedback and support;

My agent, Kevan Lyon who is a dream to work with. I’m very, very lucky to have her in my corner;

Thanks to my friend since high school, the mega talented Chef Robert Grider for letting me use your name and for your continued friendship;

Thanks to readers that have become friends: Kelly Moorhouse and Carly Noonan. You’re support and enthusiasm over the last couple of years have meant so much!

Super huge thanks to photographer Lindee Robinson for a spectacular cover photo and Madison and Chad for your gorgeous portrayal of Shayna and Carter!

Massive thanks also to Angela at Fictional Formats who saved my life! You’re professionalism and kindness will never be forgotten!

And,

One of the best gifts I’ve gained from this career has been the friendships I’ve been blessed with. People that my life wouldn’t feel complete without—who make me laugh on those crap days where everything feels like it’s going wrong, and who cheer when things go right— Nyrae Dawn, EL James, Christa Desir, Allie Brennan, Rebecca Shea, Jessica Park, Michelle Scott, Elizabeth Hunter, Colleen Hoover, Angie Stanton, Karly Blakemore-Mowle, Rebecca Donovan, Nicole Williams, Tina Reber and Emily Lalone
…
the last several months have been trying, and your friendship has meant more than you’ll ever know.

Want more angst? Here’s a sample from

Beautiful Things Never Last
—available now!

My cell phone acts as a piss-poor light in the pitch black apartment but it’ll have to do, because I don’t want to risk waking Quinn. I lock the front door behind me, then turn and nearly trip over the damn couch, cussing myself through my teeth for not making it home until late.

Again.

It’s become an all-too regular thing, me coming home late, or sneaking back out after Quinn has gone to bed. It’s not like I’m running around on her, I’d never— I fucking love that woman with everything in me. But I was driving home and there was this perfect light over the water and I had to pull off of PCH and take some photos while I had the chance. I miss out on some of the best light of the day while I’m either at school or in the studio at work, so it’s almost torture to not pull over and capture a little bit of that particular perfect light when I’m lucky enough to catch it. It was one of the main reasons we chose Southern California rather one of the other art schools in New York or Seattle. We wanted to be near the Pacific Ocean. I just happen to love taking advantage of our surroundings.

I slide out of my pants, pull my t-shirt over my head, and toss them both over the back of the flimsy IKEA desk chair before I push through our bedroom door.

I shine the light of my phone in the direction of the bed I share with Quinn, and can just make out her small frame, curled up with her back toward me. And it’s seeing her there, peaceful but alone, that really makes me start to feel like a bastard for not being here to kiss her goodnight.

I pad across the room to our bed and slip under the blankets next to Quinn. The sight of her was one thing, but being next to her… I’m completely unable to resist pulling her a little closer to me. Her skin is warm under the heavy quilt, even though it’s nearly bare. I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s completely counterproductive to my stealth-like entrance, but I run my hand along the band of her panties, and hook my thumb under the thin lace at her hip.

Quinn breathes in deeply and I know I’ve woken her up.

“Shhh
…
” I say. “Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

She blinks several times before turning over toward me.

“It’s okay.” Her voice is raspy and full of sleep. Quinn snuggles into my chest and gets comfortable again. I let my eyes close as I run my hand through her long, brown hair, breathing in the familiar smell of her. “Wait, did you just get in?” The sleepiness in her voice fades quickly like a flame blown out.