The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

“You want it heated up?” Arrick runs his hand down the back of my hair as I sit at the table, a fluffy robe over my naked body. I shake my head. I’m completely relaxed, body sagging, from the hour-long tub soak we took. The idle chit chat that was so easy and the twenty minutes of letting him dry and massage every inch of me on the bed, sensually heavenly, although he did stop at me letting my hands wander to under his towel, twice. I feel surreal, completely chilled out and one hundred percent satisfied and content right now.

“They will probably taste as good cold.” I open the box and empty the contents onto my plate, digging in and smiling at how amazing they taste, as I watch him wander off. He has on sweatpants, but he’s topless and barefoot, back a little clawed up, like he’s been rolling in barbed wire, and I look away from it guiltily, not sure if I like what I have done to him. Even though he keeps telling me he likes a girl with claws and assured me several times that he will expect some scratching from now on in.

Arrick comes walking back from the refrigerator with two shakes and puts them between us, sitting down to eat and giving me an uninterrupted view of his naked torso with strong shoulders and perfect muscles that make me weak at the knees with every movement he makes. He looks down, sexy as always, flawless in my eyes, and starts eating too. That gorgeous jaw at work, slightly stubbled today as he skipped shaving this morning, he looks a little more like a rugged bad boy.

“That’s really distracting you know?” I point my fork at his pecs and wave it side to side to gesture his naked body. Struggling to keep my eyes on delicious food when the view is so much more appetizing to me. He makes my heart rate rise a little too easily when he’s flaunting what he has.

“What about if I do this?” He grins at me and tenses his arms in the Mr. Universe. pose that only makes me roll my eyes and giggle at his weirdness. Cheekily confident and he obviously knows his body does the trick. He even appeared seminude in some men’s and women’s magazines last month and is evidently not shy about it.

“Yeah, completely lame.” I smile and take another forkful, watching him move effortlessly as every movement emphasizes that hot physique, with little bulges and flinches that are strangely mesmerizing. My inner lady parts heating up and tingling to attention so readily I press my legs together to try and calm it down.

Who knew a male body could make me drool so much, especially now I know what it can do to mine.

“Don’t lie, you are hot for me like this.” He winks at me and then picks up his shake, sliding his feet under the table to capture mine and pull them towards him so our feet are completely entangled. Cutely affectionate, like always, and one of his little surprising traits that I adore the most. He’s like an eternal human cushion that likes to be cuddled up at all times.

“Possibly.” I answer evasively, watching him under my lashes as he slides down into a more casual seated pose and keeps staring at me. I try to focus on anything else other than the way he’s watching me eat, and notice an unfamiliar tribal symbol on his collar bone, just above the main part of his chest work that joins to his sleeve, that I never noticed before. Not surprising really, he’s not ever sat naked in front of me while my eyes wander freely.

“That’s new, isn’t it?” I point at the little Celtic type line running up his collarbone perfectly, acting like a border to the rest of his black ink. Looking for a distraction to those pecs and those gazing hazel eyes.

“Yup… I got it a couple months back.” He looks down, running a hand over it and then back at me with a lazy smile. He has so many tattoos now that unless you really sit and dissect them, then they all sort of mesh to one large dark sleeve of artwork.

“Does it mean anything?” I ask softly, still digging into my food and looking over all his ink appreciatively. It’s a part of him I always loved, and love seeing new tattoos on him too. Some have meanings to him and some don’t. He has a serious addiction to them, much like his brother and yet they suit him like he was always meant to have them.

“Nope. Just liked this one…. Although this one is my notch of another win.” He points at the little star among the cluster of stars inside a geometric shape on his inner arm, getting pretty crowded now with all the wins he has had over the last years. That tug of pride at the little addition, knowing he’s good at what he does, and he loves it. He is a born fighter, even if that’s not necessarily a good thing; his ability to be disciplined and focused play a huge part in his success.

“Guess you will be adding another one after this week.” I smile, reminding him that he leaves for LA tomorrow, for a week-long promo and fight. He is one step away from a championship fight and I couldn’t be prouder of him. At the same time there is that sinking feeling of dread inside of me because he will be gone for a full seven days and I don’t want him to go.

“Come to Miami with me?” He gazes at me seriously, reading my mind, eyes on mine with complete unmovable intent.

“You know I can’t, I have assessments all week. I can’t miss those.” I sigh and for the millionth time, regret the fact I can’t go with him. Arrick is a born traveler, he loves jumping up and going places impulsively, and I love it too. He always makes trips exciting and fun, and despite his constant overthinking, logical personality, he is impulsive when it comes to spontaneous get aways. I catch him frowning at me and distract him with diverting back to tattoos.

“What does that one say?” I point at one on his forearm, a long line of words crammed small and neatly within another hectic piece that makes it hard to read from here. Arrick turns his arm and looks at the neat row of scrawl.

“It’s a Muhammed Ali quote. It says, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee”.” He puts his arm back down and carries on eating, throwing me an eyebrow lift to get me to eat too.

“You’re strange.” I giggle and dig into my pancakes once more. Savoring the bite, loving that he did this for me and filling up inside with so much joyous feeling.

“Well I did get your name on the bottom of my foot too, so guess I am.” He glances up at me with dead pan seriousness that I cannot judge if it’s a joke or not.

to think back if I have ever looked

much, you made me see it like fifty times and you kept calling me your Woody. So I figured I would let you be my Andy.” He seems completely serious, eating his food again and glancing my way occasionally with

and gawp at him steadily, not sure how to

There are no words.

like a personal Sophie mark. Authentic.” He smiles at me, infuriating cute boy expression and no

no longer gooey, emotional, and starting to think he is an

how you claim ownership of your toys. I thought you had that movie committed to memory?” He sticks more food in his mouth, taps his fork

not my toy though!” I

now.”

a guy having your name on the sole of his foot is neither sexy nor romantic. It’s plain odd. It’s not something I imagine he would ever do, with any girl. Especially not one who wasn’t even his girlfriend at the time, and yes, I do

looks innocently

means you’re standing on me every day.” I blurt out, thinking of how many times he stands on it, every second of every day, sweats in his gym shoes or pushes it up against furniture where he perches his feet, as though it’s physically me on his foot, and so disrespectful. I know I’m

see it?” He grins

him, raising my palms like I don’t even know who he is sometimes. I don’t want my name to be jammed into gym shoes and sweated on

or future children who

to look too distraught. He is crazily flexible, thanks to his martial arts training, lifting a sexy muscular leg and showing me a completely tattoo free sole of his foot. Grinning at me like a smug douche bag and winking as though he is pretty much the funniest guy on the planet. I blanche and then glare at him, so

flatly, annoyed, nope, enraged that I fell for

the hell

love me though.” He shrugs, smirks and eats more food as he continues to gaze at me,

throwing him my best sulky face with attitude. Glaring at him, because he actually suckered me in for once, and I completely fell for

get the tattoo to make up for it.” He nudges my feet with his,

Cocky asshole.

I throw back, refusing to look at him and stuffing my face in complete nonchalance. Digging into my food in a bid to ignore him and still

my butt then.” He laughs, throwing me another childish wink and I frown harder. His butt may be sexy in so many ways, but I do not want my name immortalized on his

me?” Completely outraged this time as I stare at him in disbelief, He has gone from romantic gorgeous boyfriend, to smug, weird ass in

like you kissing my ass.” He laughs naughtily, despite myself, I curb the urge to smile and look at my

throw my napkin at him, hitting him in the chest and he just continues to look like a

get my name on your ass, and we can kiss each other’s. Or maybe rub them together.” He snorts with

not to have some sort of eyeroll epidemic, face aching with the inability to stop a smile creeping out and trying to avoid the game of footsy he has started under

trying to hit me with the Hollywood smile and meeting dead

want a tattoo.” I

thinks it’s going to jump up and say, “here I am”. Sometimes I feel like we have an age reversal

the good influence everyone thought you were.” I raise my brows and widen my eyes at him sarcastically, that

branding my girl, staking my claim, and they obviously still see me as the golden boy. Years of pulling the wool over their eyes.” He gives me a smug smile, the ‘I am not smiling yet I clearly am’, one. Far too pleased with himself today and

longer think you’re such a good boy after all…. How did we get onto the topic of us getting