The Carrero Solution (Carrero Book 3)

“Stop tormenting me and open the damn door.” I giggle and step back, folding my arms across my chest in a no-nonsense Carrero pose. I try to appear authoritative, but he frowns and annoyingly tweaks my nose.

“Ask me nicely.” He grins and lifts them higher above his head with a wicked look in his eye. He’s been like this since he got up, and I’m enjoying the return of playful Jake. It’s been almost non-existent lately, and I can only sigh at him.

“Please, Jake … loving, gorgeous, beautiful man of mine. Can I have the keys to our new home? Thank you very much!” I pout at him with a sickly-sweet voice, oozing sarcasm. My hands on his magnificent chest, imploringly, in a very sexy black sweater.

“Nope.” He turns in front of me, walking toward the front door we’ve been standing a few feet from, and I scowl viciously, jokingly at his back.

Asshole.

He wants me to beg. He seems to get a kick out of it lately, torturing me over these last few days with sexual gratitude. Not that I mind. Jake in fun and playful mode is almost as good as Jake in sex mode.

OK, not even a close almost.

I walk up behind him, sliding my hands into the butt pockets of his jeans as he unlocks the door. My hands are flat against his pert ass, enjoying the way I can grope every movement of his body. It makes me ache for him more, and my temperature climbs as my eyes devour that muscular set of shoulders straining under his black smooth, knitted sweater.

He opens the door and pulls me in with him, pressing numbers into a keypad on the wall beside the door, shutting off the infernal beeping that started the second the door opened. I gaze around the grand entrance at the white marble floor and sweeping staircase, almost a mirror image of the Carrero house next door, with a surge of complete excitement.

This is ours. Jake and I have a home together, a new start. We really are home.

He reaches behind and pulls my hands out of his pockets, turning to face me and bending down to scoop me up in his arms. I squeal with the sudden motion, and I’m met with a full-on passionate kiss. Tongues, teeth, and smiles.

“Get a room.” Leila’s voice cuts into our intense meeting of mouths, and I lift my head as she lazily saunters in. Jake told her we were getting the keys today, and she assured him she would come over as soon as possible to get the first dibs on a guest room. Her timing is impeccable.

“I thought that’s what we were here to do?” Daniel walks in behind her, and I can’t help but throw her a smile with raised eyebrows. He places a hand on her shoulder, and she pulls away, throwing him a defiant little look, met with a sigh from Hunter.

Still torturing the boy then. Oh, Leila, give him a break, even a little one. He’s really trying.

Since our engagement party, Jake told me that Leila has been making life as difficult for Hunter as possible. At least he’s clinging on, so far, anyway. He needs to break through her wall of hostility and prove himself worthy to her. She has so much to guard, considering their history.

“Go ahead. I’m taking Emma on a tour to refresh our memories.” Jake smiles at Daniel encouragingly, and we watch as he wanders off after his little hell-cat, trying to get a hold of her, being met with little slaps on the hand each time and quiet, I don’t think so’s. It’s obvious that Leila has no intention of letting Daniel in just yet, and it amazes me that he’s following her around so tolerantly.

“What’s going on with them?” I ask.

“A lot of angry sex and Leila trying like hell to push him away … That girl is hell-bent on making him hurt her because it’s what she’s expecting.” He shrugs and carries me toward the large downstairs formal lounge, sliding me to my feet when we walk into the huge blank room. All the furniture is gone, despite the owners leaving some included in the sale. Jake wanted us to start from scratch and choose everything together.

“And Daniel?” I look back through the door, but they’ve disappeared.

“Has been well and truly forewarned that he only gets one shot at this. Honestly, I think he kinda likes her behavior. He’s always been a warped kind of guy.” Jake grins, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. I try not to wonder too much. I know one thing for sure … Hunter needs to play this right because Leila is done with being hurt by him; there will be no second chance this time. She wants him to prove he has what it takes to be with her, and she will put him through a lot worse before he gets past that wall. I just hope he has what it takes to persevere.

I turn my attention back to the room as Jake wanders off to pull the drapes wide open, letting the sunshine in and dazzling me momentarily.

Somehow, without furniture, the place seems monumentally bigger. The huge floor-to-ceiling windows frame the view, taking my breath away instantly. I turn slowly and scan around; this room has one large open fireplace and a distinct marble mantle on a far wall. It’s hard not to imagine this room filled with comfy furniture, expensive Christmas trees, and trimmings by a roaring log fire.

“Dime for your thoughts?” Jake cuts into my daydream of children opening presents on a warm furry rug on a snowy day, and I break into a smile.

“Just imagining this room with furniture.” I blush, a happy surge at where my mind was.

“I was imagining this room with a huge roaring fire and serious plush rug down there.” Jake smiles and nods at the floor where I’d imagined the same thing. I wonder if we had the same thoughts on the rug. “Great place to fuck.” He winks cheekily.

Yeah, I guess not.

“I don’t know what that is.” I smile sassily, and he sighs, bopping me on the nose with a fingertip. We’ve been making jokes about the lack of sex lately. I guess in a bid to try to get our head around the emotional barrier that Jake still has, one I can no longer understand. We’ve come so far, yet he still doesn’t attempt to touch me that way. I’ve never pushed because I don’t want to be rejected again.

“Well, play your cards right, shorty, and I might be talked into trying again. I can’t keep beating the shit out of boxing bags for the next few months. I can’t handle looking at you and not doing anything about it.” His pained gaze tells me he’s been thinking about this a whole lot more recently than he lets on.

My ears prick up, and I pass him my wanton look below lowered lashes with more than a little hope simmering.

“Keep looking at me like that, and it’ll convince me to try right now.” He groans and walks off toward the doorway as though reeling himself back in. Jake is walking off again as he does anytime it looks remotely like something will happen with us, and again that huge surge of disappointment hits me painfully.

“I’m not stopping you from trying right now.” I retort huskily, throwing him my best seductive look, mustering all the sexual prowess I can, willing him to come back to me. He pauses in the doorway, appraising me for a moment. I can tell he’s arguing with himself over whether he should or shouldn’t. A bang above our heads breaks the moment, and we both look toward the ceiling in surprise.

There’s another thud, not as loud this time, followed by some smaller noises and then the unmistakable noise of Leila moaning.

Oh, my fucking God. Really.

“For the love of God, the wrong fucking people are christening this damned house.” Jake snarls, bristling at another man marking his territory, and without warning, he storms toward me, lifts me around his waist, pulls my legs around him, and backs me against the wall a little too aggressively for how he’s been lately.

His mouth hits mine with force, and he braces all my weight on his hips. His hands come to undo my wool cardigan and push it back over my shoulders rapidly. He’s obviously got his mind hell-bent on his purpose, fueled by the couple upstairs taking away what is his right in our new house. Or Hunter, as this is probably more of a male pissing on another’s territory kind of thing and it’s doing the trick. I mentally tell myself to thank Leila later.

Right now, though, I’m too zoned in on what his mouth is doing to mine, sudden exhilarating heat coursing through me with the fact that Jake is attempting sex again finally after so freaking long. He stopped trying to initiate it after the first few times, and judging by the intense way his hands are roaming over me, he’s managed to build himself into a lust-filled fury without help from me.

Okay, maybe a tiny little bit of persuasion … and a lot of help from upstairs.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I grasp my arms around his neck, our bodies pressed close, and I can’t help but grind against him mercilessly. Jake feels better than good, so much so that I almost forgot what this feels like. It’s like realizing a fantasy all over again. I slide one hand down to the hem of his T-shirt and yank it up. Rewarded with his helping hand as his top is soon lying on the floor behind us, exposing all that chiseled muscle and tattooed sexiness that has me panting. He pulls my dress up, slowly moving his hands up my thighs, his mouth trailing to my neck as I buck and arch at the way he feels. There is no sign of any wavering libido or confusing and conflicting thoughts from him.

I missed every second of this, wanted every single one of his erotic touches so badly that I’ve dreamed of him around me and inside of me and woke many a time after experiencing the craziest sleep orgasms known to womanhood that I didn’t even know existed. The surge of pregnancy hormones has only made all those feelings more intense.

He cups me from underneath, his thumb pulling my lace panties to one side, and I gasp in pleasure at the connection. I slide my hand to his waist band and yank open the buttons of his jeans with little effort … given that he’s pushed against me so hard. I slide and wiggle my fingers into his jeans, finding the source of what they ache for, and I’m practically singing in happiness. I’m so ready for this kind of reunion. Long awaited.

This is really happening, God.