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“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
His level of interest, the way that our relationship has progressed so quickly still baffles me. My feelings for Carter are deep. They’re at a level I wouldn’t expect after such a short amount of time. If the way he looks at me is any indication, I’d say he feels it, too.
All the more reason I should tell him who I am now that he’s given me an opening.
“Actually, I’m glad you said that. There’s something I need to tell you.” Something I have been chickening out of telling him since we first met.
The ringing of the doorbell says otherwise.
“Hold that thought,” Carter says, hopping to his feet and hurrying to the door.
He returns a few moments later and as he walks toward me balancing the pizza, plates, and a wine bottle in one hand, I chicken out again.
Taking some of the items from him, I set them on the table.
“How’s therapy going?” I ask him.
“Okay, I guess.” He gives a noncommittal, one-armed shrug. “My therapist seems to think I should be further along.”
I do, too.
“Why is that?”
“I, uh, I may have done something to reaggravate it?”
I raise my eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.
His body slumps, and he gets a sheepish look on his face.
“I uh, got into a fight.”
“You got into a fight and hit someone with the fist that connects to an arm which you just had surgery on? Have you lost your mind?”
“I was headed there,” he smirks. “Until I met you.”
Holy Mother of God. My cheeks flush, and my pulse races.
“Carter, we really need to talk.”
He sets his plate down, then takes mine from me and places it next to his.
“I like you, Lexie. I like you so damn much. I know this is all really sudden, but I think… I think I might…”
My lips silence him before he can say the words. I don’t think I can hear them without my heart breaking. I have to end this. He kisses me back slowly, seductively, until I’m drowning in him.
Tomorrow.
I have to end this tomorrow.
Chapter8
Carter
Stepping out of the shower, I hear my phone alert that I have a new text. Then again. And again. I pick the phone up from the counter.
Sixty texts?
