Chapter 16 #3
“No, never with you.” The candles on the table are melting slowly, glowing in the dark of the cabin and making warm shadows dance on his handsome face.
The sharpness of his jaw looks like glass and the light blond stubble is rough enough to burn my soft skin.
A comfortable silence covers us like a blanket, and we both lock eyes for a few seconds, as if no words were needed to describe the contentment of just being together.
I’ve always found it fascinating. Nancy used to tell me that she knew her husband, Alec, was the one when they both stayed at an Inn during a holiday trip and the TV wasn’t working.
After reading a bit and talking, stretching out every subject she could think of, they just stayed in the arms of each other without talking for an hour.
Which is quite an achievement for my very talkative sister.
Anyway, that’s how she knew. She said she had never experienced sharing silence with any men before without it sounding awkward.
And that’s exactly how it is with Carter.
We don’t always need to talk. And that’s fine for both of us.
After taking a few bites of the delicious shrimp tacos, I put down my fork and lean back in my chair.
“I’m really impressed with how you talked to Noah, you're a natural,” I tell him, unconsciously stretching my legs and sensing an obstacle.
His shoe. I don’t recoil, instead I wiggle my feet until my heel drops on the floor and position my feet back on his foot.
The contrast of his leather book under the nakedness of my foot sends a shiver down my every sense.
Carter tilts his head just like each time when he’s reading me.
And I love it. That’s one of my favorite things about him.
How the world fades when he zeroes down on me.
I know I’m sending mixed signals here, but watching him play with my son, kiss me on my lawn, and prepping the most adorable date is making me want to throw the over-thinking part of myself and just go with the flow.
With a cautious tone, he answers, “Do you think he…liked me?” His voice falls ten levels lower.
“He did offer to share his figurines with you, so I’d say yes,” I nod with a light smile, pulling my hair back and watching his gaze follow the movement. Am I flirting? Is this even working?
“Are you trying to seduce me?” he asks with an unreadable poker face.
I take a deep breath. Can I still do this?
Flirt? Even if I fail, even if it’s laughable, I need to know that this part of me hasn’t disappeared the day I received my first punch.
I need to know that it was just asleep, waiting for the right person to come back to the surface.
“...Maybe,” I whisper. “Is…is it working?” blush coloring my cheek. Thank God there’s not enough light to notice it.
“You’re blushing,” he remarks.
Shit.
“Come here,” his voice calls, no questions asked, pulling back his chair and tapping his palm on his lap.
I can do this. Kissing him was like reaching the doors of heaven; it wasn’t scary, it wasn’t painful.
I need to trust that there’s even more wonders behind those doors.
I stand up and reach for him, his height so tall that even sitting, he’s facing my chest as I’m trying not to fidget in front of him.
Lifting my chin a bit higher to give me courage, I exhale and sit on his lap slowly, his hand surrounding my body while keeping an inch of distance as if he was waiting for the go-ahead to touch me.
Carter simply exiting is making my heart beat harder than anyone else.
Carter asking silently for consent is literally setting my body on fire.
I position myself on his thick and muscular thighs, my arms locking behind his neck and instinctively resting the right side of my face on his shoulder.
Something pounds against my right ribs. Is it his heart?
I nestle into him and the low tone of his raw voice echoes quietly, “Can I touch you?” I shut my eyes, whispering that yes, he can.
His arms close around me like the wings of a fallen angel, hiding me from the world in the protection of his feathers.
His hand finds the left side of my face and strokes a few hairs back, his thumbs caressing dangerously my lower lip.
I suddenly have the urge to know everything about this man.
As if the physical proximity we were experiencing couldn’t be enough.
Like a need to crawl under his skin and understand every corner of his mind.
“Carter?” I murmur.
“Yes, sweetness,” he says, kissing my forehead.
“Why are you so soft with me?”
“Soft?”
“You’re cold around everyone else. But with me…”
He exhales slowly. “You bring out the best in me,” he says, pulling me closer. “I can let my guard down with you. I don’t get to do that anywhere else.”
“I…I let my guard down with you, too, you know?”
“I’m glad you do, really.” I take in the view from the main window above the cozy sofa, and the city lights glow in the dark like millions of tiny lamps.
“When I was little, I used to have these little night lights on the ceiling of my bedroom. When my parents would switch the light off, it would glow like thousands of stars.” I smile softly at the memory.
I miss them so much. “The view… It reminds me of this.” He listens to me, his attention fully focused on my words.
“I like this,” he says, humming my hair, “I really, really like this.” Adding a bit of space between us, I pull back and watch him, our faces so close I can feel his minty breath dancing on me.
“I do too,” I whisper.
“I… I’m not ready to let you go. I don't think I ever will,” he states as if he is making a vow. “When I’m with you, I start wanting things I know I don’t deserve.”
“What things?” I furrow my brows because Carter deserves all the love in the world, especially after surviving the most traumatic event a child could ever witness.
“The white fences, the rings, the morning pancakes,” he admits, and I can feel his hands trembling just slightly.
“I needed a bit of time last week,” he pauses, “to make things right. I visited my family at the cemetery, talked to them about life, about…you.” I nod, hoping it’ll encourage him to keep on going.
He talked to his sisters and mother about me.
The thought of him confessing about the private area of his life to stoic tombs makes my heart clench.
I wish… I wish I had been there, holding his hand.
“I’m good now, I mean, I’m not trying to fool myself into thinking I’ll be anything different than what I am now.
What you’ll see is what you’ll get. Just like I told you before, Lana.
But the more I’m around you…the more I get hooked.
” He winces like this is physically painful for him to bare himself to me.
“I…I need to know you’re in this, too. All the way.
’Cause holding you, without knowin’ if you’re really here with me?
” He shakes his head. “It’s like walking around with a loaded gun to my head every damn day.
And I’m not sure I can bear it longer if that’s not what you want. ”
“Carter,” I take his jaw between my hands, “I…I want this too. The white fences, the morning pancakes. The rings might wait a bit. I’m not ready yet, but…
As much as I admire you for knowing who you are, I’m still healing and I’m still wondering if I can…
” He furrows his brows, searching in my features the words I can’t say out loud.
“I’m not sure if I can be everything someone might need in a relationship,” I admit, lowering my gaze and clasping my hands tightly in my lap.
I hate that I don’t know myself better. There are so many ways to show love, and I understand that closeness matters, but I’m not sure what I’m ready for.
Ben took away my sense of safety. I was never sure if he wouldn’t start hitting me in those moments.
I had to keep my guard up, my eyes shut, and hope to get through it without bruises.
“Lana,” he covers my shaking hands with his, “there’s no rush, no pressure. I’m not expecting that from you until you’re ready. I mean it. I will never push you into something you can’t handle. I’m not him.” He connects his forehead to mine. “I’m not him,” he repeats.
“What if it takes months, or years…?” I murmur weakly.
“I’ll wait.”
“What if I freak out and…”
“Lana, don’t.” He takes my chin between his fingers, holding me there so gently it makes my chest ache.
“We trained together at the club, we kissed, we rode on my bike, and right now you’re sitting on my lap.
I don’t see any signs of panic in you, except your wide pupils, but I’m guessing that isn’t fear.
” His words chip away at my walls, brick by brick.
“How does it feel when I do that?” He squeezes my hand.
“Good,” I whisper.
“And that?” His hand leaves my chin to comb through my hair, fingers brushing my scalp in slow, calming strokes. The touch lifts the hairs on my neck and sends warmth down my spine.
“Good,” I breathe out. His touch is like cotton against my skin, soft, steady, safe. He’s not the same as the one who hurt me. He’s entirely different.
“And when I do that… How does it feel?” His voice drops, low and rough, and my stomach clenches at the sound. Then his lips brush mine like he’s testing the waters. When he pulls back, I almost chase after him.
“Words, Lana. I need words.”
“Good,” I whisper. “Really good. It feels…amazing.”
He holds my gaze, cobalt eyes locked in. “Can we try one more thing?”
I inhale, hesitant but trusting. “What’s on your mind?”
“Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.”
“Then stand up, sweetness,” he says, voice soft but firm. “And get back on your chair.”
“Wait, what?” I frown, brows pulling together.
“Just do it, Lana. Trust me.”