Sincerely, Carter (33 page)
Authors: Whitney G.
“Not for much longer.” Carter kept his eyes on mine. “I sent you a letter every week telling you how I felt, telling you I didn’t mean any of what I said at the airport…I’ve already spent over six months without seeing you, without touching you, and I’m not letting you go back to France without at least
talking
to you—without telling you everything that I have to say.”
“Is this shit really happening?” Sean stood up, clenching his fists. “Do you not see me standing here? You think you can just talk to my girlfriend without my permission?”
Everyone in the diner was now silent and staring at the three of us.
“Ari…” Carter stepped even closer to me, reaching down and running his fingers through my hair. “I want you back…I
need
you back…”
“Let’s go, Ari.” Sean looked at me as he moved around the table. “We need to finish our conversation without this desperate asshole interrupting it.”
I didn’t get up.
“Ari?” He looked shocked. “Ari, are you seriously considering whatever this asshole is talking about? He’s been nothing but rude to you since we got here.”
“I’ve only been rude to
you
,” Carter countered, eyes still on mine.
“Ari, if you don’t leave with me right now, I’m going straight to the airport and I’m not coming back,” Sean said. “I also won’t be forgetting this shit anytime soon in France when you go back…What’s it going to be?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but Carter pulled me up and pressed his lips against mine—kissing me as tears fell down my face, as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. At that moment, no one else in the diner existed.
It was just me and Carter.
The guy I was in love with, the guy I’d loved for most of my life.
When we finally broke away, I looked over at Sean—to offer an apology, but he was long gone. The other patrons were looking at us with fascination and I blushed as Carter kissed me again.
“I read your letter…” I said softly. “You were right…”
“I usually am.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and he smiled, whispering against my mouth. “Let’s get out of here…” He pulled me against his side and led me to his car. Taking my hand in his, he looked over at me. “Were you going to go the rest of this trip without saying anything else to me?”
“I was going to come to your house tonight, after I broke up with Sean…You kind of interrupted my break-up speech, though. Pretty sure he’ll be smearing my name around all over campus whenever—”
He cut my sentence off with a kiss. “I know it’s been a while since we’ve been together, Ari, but the rules are still the same. I don’t want to talk about anyone else when I’m with you, and since I only have four days left before you fly back, I damn sure don’t want to waste one second talking about your ex-boyfriend.” He kissed me one last time before speeding off into the night.
We made it to his place in record time, and as soon as we were out of the car, his lips latched onto mine and we stumbled up the driveway and into the house with our lips still attached. Knocking over a lamp and a side table, we made it into his bedroom and he immediately pulled me onto his bed.
He took off his shirt and started to unbutton mine, but I grabbed his hand. “Wait, Carter…Wait…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” I looked into his eyes. “I just…I want to know if…”
“Ask me…” He kissed me, a knowing smile on his lips. “Ask me, Ari...”
“No…I guess it really doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” He pulled off my skirt. “Ask me if I’ve been with anyone else since you’ve been gone.”
“Have you?” I asked, forcing a weak smile.
“No, Ari…” He gave me a reassuring kiss as he unsnapped the front of my bra. “I haven’t, and I’d like to keep it that way forever…”
“And what happens when I go back to France?”
“You take the spam filter off my goddamn emails and answer me whenever you get a chance.” He unbuckled his pants and let them fall to the floor. “You also invite me up to visit once a month.”
“Can you afford to come that often?”
“I can’t afford
not
to…” He lay down in the bed and pulled me on top of him. “Are there any other questions?”
“Yes.”
He raised his eyebrow, waiting for me to say it.
“What’s your new tattoo?” I looked at his arm, and he smiled—holding it up for me to see. “You’ve always had that Arizona State tattoo…”
“The state, yes…” He pointed to the cursive script underneath it. “Your full name, no…”
I blushed. “I got drunk in France one night when I was crying over you, and I went into a tattoo bar by myself…I must’ve really been talking shit about you, because the technician misinterpreted what I wanted.” I lifted my right arm, showing off the small spot next to my breast where a cursive “Sincerely, Carter” was etched into my skin.
Smiling, Carter traced it with his fingertips. “I love this…Are there any more questions?”
“Yes…I have one more.”
“Okay.” He gripped my hips, and positioned me over his cock. Then he slowly sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. “I’m listening…”
“In your last letter to me, you said you’d loved me since fourth grade…Not
fifth grade
like you normally try to assert…Do you really think that, timeline-wise, or did you just say that because you knew that would get to me and make me cry?”
“Arizona Turner…” He slowly pulled me down against him—filling me inch by inch, making me moan as he swirled his tongue against my chest. When he was completely inside of me, he held me still and looked into my eyes. “For the record, and the very last time…” He drew my bottom lip into his mouth. “I hated you in fourth grade—absolutely fucking hated you…”
I moaned as he caressed my back with his palms.
“For the first semester anyway…” he whispered. “I did like you a lot more when we became friends. I liked you a lot…But after looking back, yes, I promise that I loved you then…” He slowly let go of my bottom lip. “I love you now.” He kissed my lips until I was utterly breathless. “And I always will…”
**THE END**
Acknowledgments
Dear Best Readers Ever,
I want to thank you SO MUCH for reading another one of my books. I can’t tell you just how much that means to me, and whether you hated this or loved it, I fucking love you for inviting me to your bookshelf again.
I’m dedicating this entire section to you because without you, I wouldn’t have a career, and I promise that I am grateful for that every single day. Every. Single. Day.
I wrote this book because I was in the mood for something different from my norm, so I kept it a secret and didn’t tell anyone about it until I was finished. (Jury’s still out on whether that was a good idea or not…Though, I must pause here and thank Erik Gevers for a fantastic OMG formatting job and Evelyn Guy for not being upset with me for literally asking her to squeeze me into her editing schedule at the last minute LOL)
Carter & Arizona demanded that their story be told, and they consistently interrupted my other projects with their note-passing and emails, so I had to push them out ASAP.
(This is the part where someone asks, “When is Turbulence coming out?” LOL)
Once again, THANK YOU for taking a chance on Secret Book #1! Is it too early to mention Secret Book #2? (*zipped lips*)
Until next time,
F.L.Y.
(Effin Love You) Always.
Whit
PS—Thank you a million times over to Tamisha Draper, my BFF/”person like they say on Grey’s anatomy” for
1)making me finish this book
2) making me release this book and
3) naming this book with the awesome title.
Thank you to Bobbi Jo for dropping everything to read this before release and telling me that everything was going to be okay, Thank you to Natasha Gentile for being amazing, Thank you to Alice Tribue for your utter honesty while reading this, and for holding my hand through nervous breakdowns and endless tears, Thank you the amazing, talented, and inspirational ladies of FYW who I miss terribly (I’ll be back after this releases! LOL), Thank you to Brooke Cumberland for your text messages and hilarious bets that get me through rough days, Thank you to Kimberly Brower for being the best agent a girl could ever ask for, and THANK YOU to the countless bloggers and authors who go out of your way to help me. (I’m forever grateful to have such amazing and one-of-a-kind support!!)
Also by Whitney G.
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Mid Life Love Series:
**UPCOMING WORKS**
Turbulence
(Early 2015)
Twisted Love
(Spring 2015)
The Jilted Bride Series:
(Summer 2015)
Book 1: Scorned
Book 2: Tarnished
Book 3: Burned
Malpractice
(Fall 2015)
Smalltown, USA
Mia
2004
Dean Collins is the most irresistible asshole at Central High School.
He’s your typical cliché, Mr. Popular. The “guy’s guy” who’s been voted “Homecoming King” two times in a row (minus my vote); the sexy star quarterback who’s capable of making grown women swoon from the sidelines (it really is sad), and the guy who can charm the hell out of any admiring girl with a simple smile, and a “Hey…What’s up?” in five seconds flat.
His face is the stuff of sculptures—hard and strong jawline, deep and piercing green eyes and dimples that show even when he’s not smiling. And, as if that wasn’t enough for the gods to endow him with, he has a six pack of abs that he always shows off, and full and defined lips that sometimes even make me wonder what they would feel like.
Nonetheless, I always do my best to avoid Dean Collins like the plague: I leave the four classes we take together early, never go to pep rallies to cheer on the team (Dean
is
the team), and the few times that he’s attempted that “Hey…What’s up?” thing on me, I’ve offered a blank stare and walked away.
Today my usual avoidance routine seems to be getting tested. Especially since he’s currently standing five feet away from me.
“Yes?” I look up from my canvas and stare at him from across the classroom. “May I help you with something? You’re not in art club.”
“I’m aware.” He smirks, looking around the empty classroom. “But it doesn’t look like
anyone
is in art club…”
That part is true. There’s actually no such thing as “art club” at Central High. It’s just me taking over whatever classroom I can find to paint for a few hours.
“We’re currently accepting applications for membership,” I say, setting my paintbrush down in the easel tray. “What can I help you with?”
“I did come here for something…” He steps into the room and pulls the door closed. “But, now that you claim that you’re accepting applications for your club, can I fill one out?”
“We don’t accept douchebags,” I say flatly. “Your application wouldn’t make it past round one.”
“Douchebag?”
“Yes, douchebag. Would you like me to give you the definition?”
Laughing, he tilts his head to the side. “I’m well versed on the definition, Mia Gray…” He stares at me for a long time, looking right into my eyes, giving me his usual charm.
I immediately break our gaze and clear my throat. “You said you came here for something? Can you hurry up and tell me what it is so I can get back to addressing my art club? Today is a very important day for us.”
