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Something interesting happened to his face, but I couldn’t put my finger on quite what it meant.

“A bit?” he asked in a perfectly blank voice.

I shrugged and grimaced. “He didn’t do anything to me, but he said some gross stuff. And I had to sleep on the couch in the living room once he and his family moved in, and a few times I woke up with him lying next to me, like spooning me when I was asleep.”

“I’ll kill him,” Carter said, his voice so bleached of emotion that it scared me. Not for myself, but for what kind of trouble he could get himself into.

“Not necessary. That was the extent of the creepiness. It only happened three times before I left. Anyway, I told my uncle about it. My aunt heard me telling him and slapped me around. She never beat me or anything, but she’s always been a fan of slapping. The things she said were worse, though. She has a way of tearing people down that always hits its mark. Anyway, I wasn’t welcome to stay there after that.”

“No one defended you? Not even your uncle? Your father’s brother, right?”

I was impressed he’d remembered something like that, something that I’d only mentioned to him once in passing. “That’s right. And no, he didn’t. I think he might have been more scared of his wife than I was.”

“Well, it’s good you got out of that hellhole. They didn’t deserve you. Sometimes it’s better to make your own family.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, impossible hope blooming. The way I wanted to take that and the way he probably meant it couldn’t match up, but it was my dearest wish that it would. That it could.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

WE DID END up being the only ones in the family box. It was a surreal experience since the rest of the large theatre was packed to a seat.

The show was amazing. I’d heard about Tristan Vega’s magic shows. They were elaborate and show stopping, but if anything the rock concert was understated, show wise. It was just the band on the stage, music perfectly amplified, sounding as good if not better live as they did recorded. The lead singer’s voice was weathered in the best way—deep, but emotional, beautiful.

It was a wonderful experience, and more wonderful was Carter hugging me from behind throughout most of it. I couldn’t stay in my seat, instead stood at the rail, and he was right there with me, kissing my neck, the top of my head, lacing his fingers with mine.

We got home late, but I was anything but tired.

I was the opposite. Restless and wired. Being out with him, not hiding anything had been a heady experience, a sharp glimpse into how I wanted things to be.

He led me straight to his bedroom with a firm hand at my nape. I’d taken to staying in there every night, though I kept all my things across the house in my room. I didn’t want to push my luck.

I was constantly in a state of worry that he’d realize he was too good for me and kick me out of his bed or even his house.

When I was being logical I knew that wasn’t something he’d do, but my whole life had taught me not to trust any feelings of safety, that they were always temporary and usually ended with me being worse off than I’d started. It was hard to reprogram a gut instinct that ran so deep inside of you that it had helped form most of your core belief system.

I shook off the dark thoughts. I was good at that and being anywhere near Carter made it easy. He was my very favorite distraction.

We got to his room, and he kept walking until we stood directly next to his bed. One of his hands gripped my hair, angling my head for better access. He kissed the side of my neck, his other hand on my belly, rubbing low.

“Let me show you something,” I said, and it came out as a pant. He knew how to get me going with a few simple touches now. He’d somehow learned my body better than I could ever hope to.

He bit the lobe of my ear oh so softly and I shivered, head to toe.

When he didn’t say anything, I made myself take a few steps away from him. I kicked off my shoes.

He just watched me, quirking a brow.

Never breaking eye contact, I peeled myself out of my dress slowly, seductively, until all I was left in was the wicked little piece of lingerie. I fingered one of the little flowers that barely covered my nipple. “Do you like it?”

He was silent for a time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t communicating.

He had a half-mad look in his eyes. They were alive and alight with a deep need that told me everything I wanted to know.

He moved behind me again.

His voice was hot velvet on my nape. “I like it so much that I think I’ll tear it to pieces while I’m fucking you and then buy you a dozen more.”

I shut my eyes, leaning back against him. “I wish you would,” I breathed.