Chapter Nineteen #2
I set the plate aside and touched his arm. “Carter, I'm so sorry.”
His throat bobbed. “I was sixteen when... when she couldn't take it anymore. I found her. My dad never recovered from losing her. Neither of us did, really.”
His words hung in the air between us. I thought of my own struggles with chronic pain, the dark moments when it seemed overwhelming. But I'd had support, doctors who believed me, treatments that helped. Carter's mother had none of that.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I said. “I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”
Carter turned off the stove and shifted to face me. “It's why I pushed you about seeing Mel. Why I reacted the way I did when I realized you were in pain. The thought of you suffering like that…”
He shook his head. I stepped closer, winding my arms around his middle. He tensed for a moment before relaxing into the embrace and resting his chin on my head.
“I'm okay,” I murmured against his chest. “I have a good doctor, thanks to you. I'm getting help. It's not the same situation.”
His arms tightened around me. “I know. Logically, I know that. But seeing you in pain, it brought everything back.”
We remained like that, both reluctant to let go. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the refrigerator and our steady breathing.
“You know,” I said eventually, pulling back enough to look up at him. “You claim not to be a good cook, but these pancakes smell amazing.”
A lopsided smile creased the corner of his mouth. “Well, pancakes are my specialty. It's about the only thing I can make without burning down the kitchen.”
“I'll have to expand your culinary horizons. How about next time, I teach you how to make my famous apple pie?”
“Next time, huh? Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we, Sunny?”
“Oh, I don't know. I think after tonight, you owe me at least one more home-cooked meal. Even if I have to do most of the cooking.”
“I suppose that's fair.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now, let's eat these pancakes before they get cold. I worked hard on them, after all.”
As we settled at the small kitchen table, plates piled high with slightly misshapen but delicious-smelling pancakes, I marveled at how much had changed in one night. Carter had shared a painful part of his past. He’d been vulnerable with me, letting me see the man behind the grouch.
I reached over and took his hand. “Thank you.”
Carter intertwined his fingers with mine. “For what? The mediocre pancakes?”
“For letting me in.”
His eyes softened, and he tightened his grip on my hand. “Thank you for listening. For understanding.”
After I watched Carter pour an obscene amount of syrup on his stack, we ate in comfortable silence. It wasn't just pancakes we were sharing—this was a whole new kind of intimacy. It was both exhilarating and a little scary.
* * *
I woke up with Carter Cassidy in my bed.
I woke up with Carter Cassidy in my bed and his mouth on my lady bits.
My moan startled Pete who was lying on my pillow, curled around my head. He gave a disgruntled woof and leaped off the bed. Carter didn't miss a beat. His tongue traced intricate patterns, sending shivers through my body. I buried my hands in his dark hair, urging him closer.
“Good morning to you too,” I gasped, arching my back.
He hummed against me, the vibrations intensifying the sensations. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he worked his magic.
I glanced down. The raw desire in his eyes made my breath catch. This man who'd been so closed-off was now utterly focused on my pleasure.
“Carter,” I moaned, my hips rocking against his mouth, “I'm close.”
He redoubled his efforts, alternating between broad strokes and pinpoint precision. The tension built, winding tighter and tighter until it snapped. I cried out, waves of ecstasy washing over me.
As I came down from my high, Carter kissed his way up my body. His stubble scraped deliciously against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. When he reached my lips, I tasted myself on his tongue.
He hovered above me, weight braced on his forearms bracketing my head. “Good morning.”
“That's one way to wake up.” I stretched my limbs and nipped at his lower lip before my eyes shifted to my alarm clock.
“Oh my gosh! It's 10 a.m.? We're late for work!”
Carter smirked. “It's fine. I talked to the boss. He said it was worth it.”
“You are the boss. And you have a meeting in thirty minutes.”
“I moved it.”
“Without the help of your assistant? How did you possibly manage?”
“Watch it, Ms. Friedman, or I'll have to report you to HR.”
“Don't get me fired. I don't think my resume would survive it.” I nudged him playfully with my foot.
“Never. Unless you want to be fired. I can't imagine you’d be happy to be a grumpy architect's assistant for the rest of your life.”
I paused, my mind drifting to possibilities I hadn't considered in a while. “I’d love to go back to the humane society someday, if I can.”
“Why'd you leave in the first place?”
I sighed. “Ethan wanted me to focus on getting pregnant and starting a family. He thought it would be easier if I didn't have to juggle work and fertility treatments.”
Carter's expression darkened. “And you agreed?”
“At the time, it seemed like the right decision,” I admitted. “I loved my job, but I wanted a family too. It was supposed to be temporary, just until we had a baby.”
“But it wasn't,” Carter said, his voice low and steady.
I shook my head, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
Carter's arms tightened around me. He rolled onto his back and pulled me onto his chest. “I'm sorry, Olivia.”
“It's not your fault,” I whispered, burying my face in his neck. “But it feels like I lost everything. My job, my dreams of having a family. And then Ethan left me too.”
Carter was silent for a moment, sifting his fingers through my hair. Then he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “If you want to go back to the humane society, then we'll make it happen. I'll help any way I can.”
I smiled, wriggling further into his embrace. “Thank you. That means so much to me.”
Carter brought a hand to my cheek and brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. “You deserve to be happy.”
As we lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, I realized I believed him.