Chapter 3 | Brooklyn
Brooklyn
Be there in fifteen.
A text had never brought me so much anticipation and anxiety that I had to pace my living room, which had become exponentially smaller because of the big ass Christmas tree that I insisted on buying.
The seven-foot pre-lit tree filled most of my living room in the modest three-bedroom, two-bath home I shared with my mother.
I stopped wearing down the hardwood floor long enough to adjust a silver ornament that barely hung on the branch.
At least, my mother and aunt had already left for Vegas.
I didn’t want to tell them about Carter yet.
They might have changed their minds and stuck around to meet him, and their advice on how to hook a man like him for life would only make me more nervous.
Auntie was worse than my mother about relationship advice since she’d been married forever.
I never told her that I didn’t want a love like hers that seemed one-sided in the sacrifices she’d made to be with her husband.
Nope. If I’d married Bishop, that would’ve been our love. He believed that the man was the head of the household, period. And I had to fall in line. I still questioned why I thought that would work when I didn’t even trust he would have my best interests at heart.
Oh, I remember.
My biological clock started screaming, and desperation crawled in.
Thankfully, I was older and wiser and already resolved that marriage and family may not be my ever after.
I valued Mama’s advice most of the time, but I had to do this on my own and see if Carter and I would see each other past tomorrow.
My hang-ups and his tenacity might be a recipe for disaster.
Could I really let go of my past experiences with men and focus on the blank slates of the present and the future?
But God, take the wheel because I wanted Carter St. Patrick.
I liked that man. I liked his aura. Carter’s earnest and flirtatious energy.
His honesty and openness about his intentions and the life he envisioned for himself, which might or might not include me.
The fact that he chose one of the most romantic settings to talk.
A place that I’d been alone and wished I had male companionship quite often.
The fact that he carried me when I told him I was tired.
More importantly, the fact that he was nervous about me liking him and the beat of his racing heart matched mine.
In that moment, I wanted to soothe him. I wanted to take care of him as if he were my man.
A feeling I don’t believe I ever had. He became real to me in the close confines of his car.
I exited when I did because the need to ease on his lap and kiss him overwhelmed.
My pink carry-on bag by the door, like I was going on a trip, haunted me, begged me to reopen and change what I packed for the umpteenth time.
Do I go for sexy, casual with a sweater dress and wedges?
Or just casual, leggings, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes?
I had a worn jersey with his number on it that I packed, though I wasn’t sure I would have the nerve to wear it.
I didn’t want to remind him that I was a fan when he preferred to be treated like a normal man, an incredibly hard feat when Carter glossed magazine covers for his talents and his looks.
A superstar athlete who also appeared to be a faithful family man until a scandal broke out about his affair with a bisexual woman and the mother of his outside child, Sekani St. Patrick.
I’d just started my residency three years ago, when Carter strode past me looking for Sekani’s hospital room.
He’d been a frantic, worried father, and my admiration for him as a football player expanded to him as a man.
The doorbell rang, startling me. I inhaled and exhaled before opening the door.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
God took his sweet time with Carter. Rich, mocha skin with a bright smile that instantly warmed his face even if he’d just finished frowning.
Sculpted cheekbones, broad forehead, thick brows, a groomed mustache and beard, and soft waves that had been cut since yesterday.
He had the right height and build to make any-sized woman look perfect by his side.
The burgundy Henley shirt that clung to his muscles and jeans complemented the white V-neck sweater, jeans, and long camel boots I wore.
His appreciative gaze traveled my body. “You look good.”
“Likewise.” I stepped back, and the colder-than-expected air nipped at me. “Want to come in for a second. I need to grab my jacket. Thought my sweater would be enough.”
“Yeah. Want to see more of this Christmas Wonderland you have behind you.” He stepped inside, closed the door, and began admiring the festive tree and the décor scattered throughout the foyer, living room, and kitchen, courtesy of my mother and me.
We both loved this time of the year and had a tradition of decorating on November 1st.
I backed up, placing distance between us. His very male presence suddenly intimidated me.
“I love that you’re already in the Christmas spirit.” As Carter slowly moved around my living room, the space seemed to shrink before my eyes. My face felt hot. “Maybe you can help me decorate my home, too. We could pick out a real tree.”
“Um...feel free to sit or stand...” I stuttered before turning to walk away.
Carter quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. “Hey...hey, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t think I’m ready,” I admitted, staring at his broad chest, unable to meet the concern or frustration I’m sure I would see in his face. “Sorry...I’m so sorry for making you drive out this way. It’s just Wednesday. You have time to catch a flight to Dallas and be with your people.”
“Whoa... whoa. Brooklyn, we don’t have to move fast. I didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted you to know my intentions.”
I vehemently nodded. “I know. You made what you wanted very clear.”
“Then why do I feel like you’re about to change your mind about coming with me?”
“When you walked into my space, my sanctuary, all the hurt and pain flooded in with you. I’m not ready to risk my heart.
It’s not you...it’s not you at all.” I finally met his worried gaze.
“And I’m probably making the biggest mistake asking you to leave.
..didn’t think that he scarred me this deeply. ”
Carter grasped my shoulders, lowered his head to press his lips against mine gently. “Does this hurt?”
His simple kiss buckled my knees. Pleasure swept through my body. All I wanted was another taste of him. My response caught in my throat, and I helplessly stared into his eyes.
“What about now?” He opened my mouth without using his tongue, softly kissing me. His hand drifted to my neck as he deepened the kiss. The sweet ache of desire pulsed through me. When my arms went around his waist, he broke the kiss. “Still pain?”
I shook my head.
His hands then cupped my behind, and he pressed me into him as I tasted his coffee-flavored tongue.
Carter’s kiss thrilled and relaxed me. With every lick, nibble, and roll of his tongue in my mouth, my defenses lowered.
When Carter lifted his head, his eyes flashed desire and frustration. “He caused you pain. Not me.”
“But...” I protested more out of habit than any real reason. The unexpected hot kiss stole my reservations.
“No. Do you feel me?” He asked firmly, clasping his hands behind my back, holding me to him.
The length and the girth of his erect manhood on my thigh punctuated his words.
“We can’t move forward with the past tied to our feet.
We’ve both been hurt, and that will never change.
Is whatever he did to you worth missing out on the possibility of us? ”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, finding my words again.
“These last few years on my own have been good. Not having to feel guilty because I’m busy with work and training.
Making decisions without having to consult anyone.
Yeah, I might get a little lonely at times, but I’ve enjoyed being single.
You talk about wanting a peaceful and contented relationship.
I already have one with myself. I love my career, my mama, and I even like L.A.
The only thing missing in my life is sex. ”
I dragged my hand down the back of the soft waves of his hair to his neck.
“And are you so sinfully fine that I want you to take me right now, ass up? Yes, I do.” A smile cracked the stern line of his mouth.
“But all sexing you would do is get me hooked on you, whether we’re right or wrong for each other. ”
“Sex doesn’t have to be on the table,” Carter reiterated.
“With all due respect, Mr. St. Patrick, you have a big dick and exude, you know exactly what to do with it, energy. You think I can spend the next two days with you and we don’t have sex?”
He suddenly sat down on my oak coffee table and pulled me between his legs, and I gripped his shoulders to stop from falling into him. Carter looked up at me. “Have you been smiling as I have since yesterday?”
Rolling my eyes, I reluctantly answered, “Yes.”
“Were you smiling like that before you met me?”
“No.”
“Why?” His large hands curved to my hips like my body already belonged to him.
“Because,” I answered stubbornly.
“You’re a doctor, and that’s the best answer you have?
” He implored, “Yeah, I can say that I have it all... Cars, houses, beautiful children, and created generational wealth for my family, and did what most little boys dreamed of. But I don’t have someone to hold on to at night or someone to argue with me when I’m being an ass. Or to take care of me when I’m sick.”
I tapped his shoulders. “You want that because you’ve had it twice before and miss it. How can I miss something I never had? I’ve never been married or even lived with a man.”
He rested his head against my stomach. “Yet, you want children, right?”