Page 33 of Carter

“It’s so good to have you home, baby girl.”

My heart wells up in my chest. I make a weird noise between a sob and a choke. I wipe at my eyes, my nose. I have got to stop crying. I swear, I’ve sobbed more in the past few weeks than I have my entire life. His driver opens the door. We slide out of the car.

I step onto the sidewalk. I look up at the row of beautiful homes. I take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

His voice is racked with emotion. “Let’s go inside.”

Our fingers interlocking, we walk up the front steps. We stand before the door.

I have to know—before he can put his thumb on it, I reach up. I press my own fingerprint against the black pad. The lock clicks, the door opens. My heart beats with relief—he still hadn’t erased me from the keypads. When you’re deleted, every trace of you is gone.

I look to Carter.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Bronson told me to, but I didn’t. I think it’s the first order I haven’t obeyed. I just… couldn’t. It’d be like erasing you.” His thumb strokes my cheek.

I want to kiss him, but I sense he’s picking the time. So I don’t. I step into the foyer. I’m overwhelmed by the familiar fragrance. There’s the black and white photos of us. The wind whipping our hair around our faces, the beaches of Greece behind us. A selfie of the two of us on the Ferris wheel, a dot of melted chocolate on my cheek. The two of us picnicking with John and Mary, my quilt spread out on the ground beneath us.

I’m home.

To hell with waiting for him to kiss me. I turn around. I throw my arms around Carter. I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist. Clinging to him tightly. His hands go beneath my legs, grasping my bottom. I give him one long look then my mouth meets his.

It’s our first kiss since we broke up.

It’s as electrified as our first ever kiss was. As my mouth caresses his, I remember that night, my back pressed up against the sign of the pub we’d been drinking at. Carter kissing me, slipping his hands beneath my short skirt. As he does now.

The delicious tingles of passion rush down my spine. Dance through my limbs. My head feels floaty. My skin sensitive to his every touch.

He ends the kiss too soon. He pulls away. I’m left wanting, my tender lips parted.

His gaze locks on mine. “We have some things to discuss. I think it’s time we had a little chat.” His hand squeezes my ass beneath my skirt.

I’m still dizzy from the kiss. My stomach clenches. I remember the brown leather strap. I want to be the submissive girl of his dreams. But sweat is suddenly forming beneath my arms. My tummy is queasy. “I…I, ah—” I look at him.

Now he’s supporting me with only one strong arm beneath my bottom. His other hand strokes my hair back from my forehead. “Come, on, baby girl.” He kisses my forehead. His voice, his soft kiss are soothing.

I’m still unsure.

Before I can protest, he’s carrying me up the stairs. He’s shifted me to his hip and I laugh, despite my nerves. I look like a little girl being carried. It reminds me of just how ridiculously strong he is. My arms lock around his neck. I can feel the tug and pull of the round muscles in his shoulders as they work.

We reach the top stair of the third floor. He isn’t even out of breath.

He carries me over the open threshold of the master.

Our room.

I gulp. All the nerves are back, and I’m not sure I can go through with this.

Gently, he puts me down. My feet press into the floor. I shift my weight. “Carter⁠—”

His hands are at the collar of his shirt. His eyes remain on me as he unbuttons it slowly. He slides the fabric over his shoulders, it falls to the floor. The smooth skin of his bare chest is exposed, muscles rippling.

He’s huge.

I look from his bulging biceps to the strap on the dresser. It’s there, tormenting me. My stomach ties in complicated knots. The strap lies next to something new. Something that wasn’t there before.

A wooden paddle.

Sweat forms at my brow. My knees feel weak. As if they will no longer hold my weight.