Is He Good At Flirting?

Chloe suspects the answer is yes.

We made an interesting pair, Carter and I, in the sandwich place two blocks over. He had, unfortunately, put on a shirt, the material damp and worn, clinging to his torso - the ensemble perfect for Hot Construction Worker porn. I stood close to him and looked at the menu, discreetly sniffing the air around him. He smelled amazing, like masculinity was rolled in grass and topped with sex. He had washed his hands when we arrived, the faint scent of lemon now chiming in on the delicious combination. Next to him, I wore skinny white cropped jeans with my Estella wedges and a silk navy Vince top, diamond studs sparkling from my ears, my hair twisted back into a loose and messy knot. The cashier gave me a competitive once over before perking up and zeroing in on Carter.

"Hey Carter." She flashed a smile that would make a dentist swoon. I stared at her brilliant white teeth and swallowed the urge to ask her her secret.

"Hey Monica. How's it going?"

"Great. You getting the usual?" Her teeth were almost freakish in their perfection. Absolutely straight. I would have suspected veneers if she hadn't been wearing camouflaged Crocs.

"You know it." He tossed an arm around my shoulder and I was able to inhale his smell deeply without looking like a freak. God, forget the sandwiches. I wanted to go back to his place, right then, and work up some sweat of my own. It suddenly occurred to me that I had never dated a manly man before. I had always dated Clarke and Vic types - ones that wore suits and valeted their cars and grew muscles in the gym but couldn't actually swing a hammer. This type of man was an entirely different type of sexy, one that could build me a house, a fire, could protect me in a storm or on the street. "What are you getting Chloe?"

The girl didn't like my name. I saw the slight sneer frame those pearly whites. Or, she didn't like Carter putting his arm around me. I leaned forward. "Your teeth are so perfect," I said. "What's your secret?"

The sneer disappeared. I couldn't really blame her anyway. I'd be jealous if Carter put his arm around her and…let's face it. Chloe is a little cutesy as a name. "My dad's a dentist." She beamed at me and all was forgiven.

I ordered a Cuban sandwich and a lemonade, and followed Carter to a table. "So," he started, leaning forward, his eyes on mine. "Feel like talking about it?"

"My job?" Ex-job. I shrugged. "My boss was having an affair. I was helping her hide it. I told her I wasn't going to do it anymore. She fired me." Wow. Six months of employment, summed up in four sentences. Benta would have made it four hundred, her latin accent rolling over the stories in dramatic fashion.

Carter nodded and picked up his meatball sandwich. I picked up my lemonade and took a big sip.

Good talk.

When he set down his sandwich, his mouth chewing, I saw the smudge of sauce on the edge of his mouth. Watched the knuckle of his hand as he wiped it up, then put his knuckle in his mouth.

Damn. I felt a flutter of some feminine part of me in between my legs and looked up to his eyes, which were on me. He stood suddenly, wrapping up his sandwich in quick, hurried motions, grabbing mine, the entire meal shoved into a bag in less than ten seconds.

"Let's go." The words were a growl, his fingers wrapping around my wrist and pulling, the frantic step of him pulling me to the door causing a smile to tear across my face.

Yes. Let's go. Please.

By Alessandra Torre

See the full story on Cosmopolitan.com

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