Chapter 17 #2
“Soon after, I quit school and moved back home. Told my family that college wasn’t for me.
I tried to act like everything was normal, get on with my life, but Carter could tell something was off.
I finally broke down and told him. He immediately went to his coach and the athletic director and convinced them to allow him to move out of the dorms and back home.
“He commuted every day. Went to all the practices, games, and classes, then he would come home to be with me. I refused to leave the house. . . isolated myself . . . became a recluse, until one day, Carter insisted that I let him take me somewhere. That’s the day I started self-defense classes, and he became my sparring partner.
“He tried to convince me to go to counseling, but I was too ashamed and embarrassed to talk to anyone about what happened to me. Like, how do you explain to anyone that even though you were mentally checked out during an assault, that your body still biologically reacted as if it was perfectly . . . normal?” She shakes her head.
“I was disgusted with myself. I wouldn’t talk to anyone.
So, Carter, being Carter, started taking psychology classes.
One class became three, and before we all knew what was going on, he had changed his degree from engineering to psychology. ”
I look away, trying to blink the tears from my eyes, understanding what she went through. And poor Carter; he must’ve felt so helpless. I wipe under my eyes, and though I try to do it discreetly, she catches me and turns me to face her.
“No. No. Please don’t do that.” she says softly, interrupting my thoughts.
“It’s been a decade since all that happened.
And though sometimes, you know, something might bring up a memory, I’ve found my peace through helping other women who are going through what I went through.
I only told you all that, so you would understand the kind of man my brother is.
He’s a good man; through and through. He will always put you and your needs above his own. ”
I nod. Grabbing the plate out of the sink, I rinse it off and hand it to her. She bumps me with her hip, lightening the mood.
“You know. I see how he looks at you too. That boy would cross oceans for you. Before you two got together, he would tell me about you . . . the things he’d do to get your attention.” She giggles, but then she becomes serious.
“He loves you. Don’t let him go when the year is up, yeah?” she whispers.
Carter crosses the living room, comes around the island, and wraps his arms around my waist from behind. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he asks, “What are you two in here whispering about?”
“None’ya.” Cammie grins, the same dimples as her brother’s making an appearance.
“Uh huh. I’m beat. Are you ready for bed?” he asks me.
I nod, and Cammie drops a playful wink in my direction as her brother leads me out of the kitchen and into the guestroom.
My stomach is a ball of nerves as we stand at the double sink in his en suite bathroom brushing our teeth together. There’s something so domestic about it, but I try not to think about that too much.
“You go ahead and change. I'll go after you.”
Handling all my business, I change, then step out of the bathroom. Carter sidesteps, moving past me. I’m already in bed when he comes out, and holy shit. I’ve seen him without a shirt before but damn. He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as he moves to turn off the light.
“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Kitten.”
“The only jaw that’s gonna be on the floor tonight, is yours, when I make you sleep on it, Fight Club.”
“Oh. I’ll just . . . um . . .” He grabs a pillow and tosses it onto the ground.
“Get your ass up here, you big goofball.”
“I knew you wanted this body pressed against yours.”
I release a sigh, and as the bed dips, I turn over; away from him.
My eyes are closed when I feel him shift. Two strong arms circle around me and pull my back to his front. My eyes pop back open as he whispers in the dark, “Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”
“I love riding dirt bikes. What about you?”
“1980’s rock music is my favorite.”
“Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“Your parents . . . are they normal?”
“What do you mean?” he says between chuckles.
I turn over to face him, laying my cheek on my hand.
“I mean the way they are with each other, is that normal? I didn’t grow up with that.
I grew up with my parents hating each other.
Every day they were yelling at one another.
When they filed for divorce, I became a pawn or a weapon.
I don’t know how else to put this except, together, my parents were toxic as hell, but your parents seem so perfect. ”
“Oh, my parents are far from perfect. They fight just like any other couple, but Cam and I never really heard or saw it. Well, maybe a time or two. But usually, when one of them is mad, they go to another room and talk it out away from us. It’s not how all couples handle their disputes, but it’s how my parents handled theirs.
Believe it or not, my dad came from a home where yelling and tantrums were a common form of communication.
He didn’t want us growing up the same way.
But I’ll tell you, I’ve seen that man red-faced and fuming.
Seen Mom that way too, so I know they’ve pissed each other off on more than one occasion.
My parents aren’t perfect, baby. That’s what a healthy marriage looks like. ”
He and his sister are so fortunate to have had a loving home to grow up in.
Not that my parents didn’t give me love and affection, they did.
But I remember the chaos until I was ten, and it was quite literally a shit show in our home.
They get along fine now, but they’re older.
. . more mature . . . and don’t have to live together.
“Maybe you and Cammie will be lucky enough to have the same someday.”
The moonlight catches his features, and I see his eyebrows knit together. “Don’t I already have that?”
“This marriage isn’t real, Carter.”
When I see the hurt cross his face, I instantly regret my words, no matter how true they are.
“Oh, our marriage is very real. It may have been an accident, but it’s real.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t you want to be married to someone you want to grow old with? Have children with? Someone you love?”
“I am,” he says softly.
His eyes roam my face in the moonlight, then he pulls me to him until our fronts are pressed together, intertwining our legs. I lie there with my face buried in his chest, rapidly breathing as my mind races.
“Go to sleep, baby. Don’t think much about it. Just let me hold you tonight, yeah?”
I respond with a nod. I don’t know what to make of him basically telling me that he loves me, but his arms wrapped around me feel so good, and my thoughts spiral as I drift away behind closed lids.
He rolls me onto my back, and my eyelids flutter open. Carter traces my face with his fingertips as he hovers over me, then he bends down and slowly teases my lips with his.
When he pulls back, I thread my fingers into his hair and pull him back down, letting my tongue caress his.
He moans into my mouth, and fuck, my pussy clenches.
I need him inside me. Now. When he thrusts his hard cock against my thigh, I try pulling at his shorts to move them down, but my arms are too short to reach.
Carter pulls down my panties and runs his thick fingers over my clit before pushing them inside me.
I let out a moan that he swallows. Before I can even blink, we’re both naked and he’s inside me.
His crystalline eyes bore into mine as he thrusts in and out with slow movements, making love to me. It’s unnerving. I can’t take it.
“Are you gonna keep fucking me like you love me, or are you gonna stop this sappy shit and fuck me like you hate me?” I ask him.
“You’ve got a smart fucking mouth, pet. Keep it up and I’ll muzzle you.”
Pulling out, he flips me over, positioning my hips right where he wants them, then lands a hard slap to my ass. A sharp gasp escapes my lips.
He’s rough, no longer the gentle lover. The sounds of sex reverberate throughout the bedroom. The bed squeaks with every thrust, and the headboard bangs against the wall as our bodies slap together while he rams into me over and over.
I turn my head, looking back at him—heart pounding—cheeks flushed, just as a paddle comes down hard on my ass.
“Ahhh.”
He leans forward, growling in my ear, “Don’t you ever tell me how to fuck my wife.” His hand traces my spine, forcing my back to arch. “You liked it when I spanked you, admit it.”
“Mmm. Yes. Fuck, Carter!”
“Never thought the day would come when you’d moan my name like that. Tell me, Kitten . . . how does my name feel slithering up your throat? How does it taste snaking around your tongue before escaping your mouth?”
My head jerks back as he gathers my hair, wrapping it tight around his fist and giving it a firm tug. The other hand skims its way from my hip to my pussy. He delivers a hard flick of his finger to my clit before massaging it in slow, firm circles.
My. Fucking. God.
When I’m on the verge of climax, he pulls out and flips me back over onto my back. Grabbing my jaw, he forces my lips apart, and spits. One hand clamps down over my mouth, and he pinches my nose closed at the same time. I can’t fucking breathe.
“Fucking swallow.”
I do as he says, my eardrums pop. His hand slides down and wraps around my throat.
“That’s my good fucking whore.”
He lifts my leg, placing it on his shoulder, then drives back into me.
“Mmm, Carter.”
“Who do you belong to?”
When I don’t answer, he turns his head and bites down on my leg. The sting almost takes me over the edge.
“Say you’re mine. Fucking say it.”
“I’m yours.”
“Goddamn right, you are.”
“Fuck!” I moan.
His forehead presses to mine, our sweat mixing together as he whispers, “Baby.”
“You feel so good, Carter. Please don’t stop,” I beg.
“Baby,” he whispers again.
Then, he completely vanishes.
My eyes pop open, and I gasp, lurching myself up in bed. Where the fuck am I? I look around the room. Carter's next to me, eyes closed, lips parted. I look down at my clothes, realizing they never left my body. Plopping back down onto my pillow, I release a sigh.
Holy shit. That felt so real. And I loved it.
Hell, I might as well get up now ‘cause there’s no way I’m going back to sleep after that.
Looking back at Carter, I allow my eyes to roam his handsome face.
Just the sight of him makes my heart pump a little bit harder.
My hands move on their own accord as I reach up and cup his cheek, the stubbles rough under my palm.
Maybe Cammie’s right. Maybe I do love him.
I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before. What I do know is, he’s my safe place.
Staring down at his mouth, I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. As my hand trails from his jaw down his arm, goosebumps pebble his skin. I lean back, making sure I didn’t wake him.
Why can’t I tell him that I’m his?