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I changed Carter’s name to Chuck and mine to Savannah, same as Kennedy’s younger sister. While all the similarities are there, I still need more information to fill in the gaps. Like me, Savannah is a girl from a stable upbringing. She lived a sheltered life, full of wealth and privilege, which led to becoming a very over-the-top adult. I channeled my constant need to act out into Savannah’s personality.
Chuck is a Wall Street banker with secrets he keeps from the world, much like Carter. He’s amazing in bed, of course, because that part I wanted to keep intact. I have to dig deeper into Carter’s life if I want to finish this book. I need more depth to his character and a reason for all the secrecy. To stick with the tropes, I made Chuck the bad boy with all the control.
From the start, I only had what Carter allowed me to take. Because he’s the one with the real power in this relationship. Along with my body, he has my heart, the one thing he can break into a thousand pieces. Struggling to come up with the details for this outline, I tap my nails on the keyboard and stare at the computer monitor. It’s well after three in the morning. I should be tired after going so many rounds with Carter. While my body feels like Jell-O, my brain refuses to shut down, still working on overdrive.
Too bad nothing is coming to me. I have nothing to write because I need the truth. Learning more about Carter is essential to writing this book. After wasting far too much time playing solitaire, hoping an idea would pop into my head, I get up from behind the desk. Walking down the hall on my tippy toes, I open the door to my bedroom a crack and do my best not to make a sound.
Carter stirs when I get into bed with him, rolling onto his side to grab my boob. How do all men somehow know exactly where to go even in sleep? It’s as if their minds are trained to do the same movements both awake or asleep. Luckily, he’s turned toward me. If I can sit up enough to see behind him, even in the darkness, I might be able to get a peek at what he’s hiding.
I need to know. I’m done waiting for Carter to confess the reason he keeps his shirt on in bed. There has to be something he’s hiding beneath the fabric. Lifting up his shirt, I take in the sight of his muscular stomach and my breath hitches. He’s still naked, and now that I’m getting more of the Carter Donovan experience, my wetness pools between my legs.
I’m tempted to take his cock in my hand and give him a few strokes to wake him, but I need to do my research first. The story depends on it. His torso is free of ink, which is surprising considering the number of tattoos on the rest of his body. Now, I feel stupid. There’s nothing wrong with this man. He has a body worth sculpting and the face to match.
So, why does he hide from me? Why does he need to keep on his shirt as if it’s his security blanket?
Doing my best not to disturb Carter, I slip out from his grasp and off the bed. Pleased with myself, I take my time and climb in behind him on the other side. He doesn’t move this time. I listen as he breathes with my hand trembling as I lift up the back of his shirt. There’s so much dark ink on his back I have trouble seeing all of it in the darkness.
The only light I have to work with shines through a
small opening in the curtain. Good thing this building has outdoor lights spread out along the property because my room would be pitch black otherwise. Still, the light is not enough to get a good look. As I push up Carter’s shirt, trying not to touch his skin in the process, I suck in a deep breath.
Covered in what appears to be a jigsaw puzzle, the artwork takes up most of the surface, leaving almost no space on his back. This cannot be what Carter has been hiding from me. I’m so confused I stare at each piece of the puzzle. I can only hope I find something within these pictures that I can understand. Otherwise, I’m back at square one.
In the left hand corner, he has a bear fused inside the puzzle piece. I have never seen something so intricate drawn onto someone’s skin. Each piece of the puzzle links together. Below the bear, the next square contains a dragonfly. Strange choice for a man, but I assume it has some hidden meaning. After that, he has a group of black birds that look like ravens spun into a circle of some sort. All I know from reading is that ravens symbolize death.
My heart aches just thinking about the raven tattoo. Next to the birds is what appears to be a boulder on the edge of a mountaintop. Strange choice. Carter’s back is like a canvas, all of the pictures painted with care. He apparently chose these for a reason.
I smile when I see a goaltender mask with two sticks behind it. Of course, he has one for hockey. Sometimes, I forget he’s the star goalie for the Flyers and not just the man I have come to know. With hockey just starting back up again, I have yet to fully experience the man behind the mask. Connected to the hockey square, Carter has a tree spun into a circle. It’s almost the same as the raven's concept with how the branches are intertwined.
On the last row, Carter has a dragon filling the block that connects to an empty square. All of his tattoos seem so symbolic, yet I have no clue what any of them mean to him. And why is one of them blank? It seems odd that he would leave this masterpiece unfinished.
“What are you doing?” His words startle me, causing me to drop his shirt and jump back, almost falling off the edge of the bed.
I manage to hold on long enough to sit up and lean against the stack of pillows behind me. “Nothing,’ I whisper, ashamed of what I have done.
I should have waited for Carter to show me his back, but instead, I had to go and pry. While I’m not sorry for my actions, a sickness rises up from the back of my throat, choking me. Will he punish me? Will he freak out?
Carter sits up, tugs his shirt back down over his stomach, and turns to face me. “Answer me.” His voice indicates an order.
My hands are shaking from the power of his words. “I wanted to see what you’re hiding,” I choke out, nervous and afraid of what will come next.
At first, he doesn’t speak, causing my heart to thump out of my chest, as I wait for him to respond. “You had no right,” he spits out through clenched teeth. “I told you I would tell you more when I’m comfortable. I am not ready. What do you not understand?”
“But…” My voice is a whimper. “But I’m falling for you, Carter. I need to know what the man I love is keeping from me. I want to know all your secrets. You should be able to talk to me. We can be there for each other.”
“Maybe I don’t want that,” he hisses. “Maybe I don’t want to be with a woman who can’t respect my privacy.” He reverts to his usual defensive tone. I get the same thing from him every time I touch on sensitive subjects.
“Carter,” I plead, “you don’t mean that. You feel something for me. Whether it’s love or lust, I know you feel it, too.”
“You couldn’t just leave things alone, could you? You had to dig and dig until you found what you were looking for, just like Kennedy did to Tyler. Well, I’m not Tyler, so don’t think that shit will work on me.”
“I know.” I grab hold of his arm and lock onto him. “Please don’t be upset with me. I just want to know more about you. Is that so bad?”
He turns his head away from me and sighs. “Yes…no…I don’t know. I’m fucked up. I’m broken. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I’ll take whatever you will give me. I’m curious about your tattoos, always have been. Will you tell me what they mean?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and rests his head against the backboard, staring up at the ceiling. “Why do you have to be so persistent, woman? You never take no for an answer.”
