Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate Chapter 97

Briar

Carter cleaned up the kitchen while I showered. My mind whirled. I had always wanted kids, but my mind had never raced like this when I was with Creedon. As much as he could have given me what my career wanted at the time, I had never seen past that, and I found my mind wandering to what kind of family Carter and I could have together. It was a stupid thought, but then again, my mind and body had been tugging at me for a while to know what sex was like with him. He never pressured me. Could I do it without the panic setting in? What was it like without being forced? I wanted to know. If I asked him, I didn’t know if I could provide what he may be looking for with me in the long run; it could all go to shit.

We sat at my grandparents' table. Tonight it was just burgers and a salad. I enjoyed their company, getting to know them. They still avoided the subject of my father like the plague. Carter’s arm snaked around my waist as I stared at the plate. He knew my moods too well, as much as I enjoyed my grandparents’ company, their unjustified love towards me. I don’t think I could take much more of not knowing about my father. Martha didn’t invite us to the overlook tonight, complaining about her arthritic knees, and I was thankful for that. I was quiet as Carter navigated the streets back to his place. He side-eyed me, but he didn't ask me anything.

We were almost home when he finally spoke. “What's eating at your Briar?”

I considered his question, but I didn’t know how to place my feelings into words.

“A lot,” was all I said honestly.

“Like what?”

I sighed deeply. “Like hanging out with the kids reminded me of something I wanted, but I realized I want something else more.

“What's that?”

“I’m still processing,” I half lied. I knew what I wanted; I wanted him, I wanted more than this friendship, but I also didn’t want to destroy it. It was a selfish desire. I had too much baggage. He would grow tired of it eventually.

When we got back to Carter’s place he poured us each a glass of whisky.

“It’s been a long few days,” was all he said to me before passing me a glass. Truth was it had been, so I knocked back the glass with him. He refilled them and took the bottle with us as I followed him to the couch.

He flipped on the TV and I nestled into his side exhaling sipping on the glass in my hand. It felt so good to be close to him. He turned on a movie but I found I couldn’t follow it, still too wrapped up in my head. He refilled our glasses. I was still turning over everything in my mind. When I found my glass empty I sat up and refilled it before I drank it down in a few swallows. 

His eyes watched me. His assessment calculated; like he measured every part of my being with those striking grey blue eyes of his, and that drove me insane; the way he could read me, as if he could sense the storm under my skin in the core of my being. He was too good, too pure for someone so damaged; he deserved better. My head swam a bit, the alcohol now giving me enough of a buzz to relax me a little. I shook my head, trying to shake off the want, that need that coiled deep inside me. But his hands grabbed me up and pulled me across his lap, forcing me to straddle him as he forced me to look into his worried blue eyes. His breath ghosted across my face, and my eyelids fluttered. 

“Tell me, Briar,” His voice pleaded. His hand cupped my nape, forcing me to look at him.

So I confessed.