Page 15 of Chasing Lynda

But I don’t say any of that either. For just a few minutes, I want to pretend that I’m just a normal nineteen-year-old woman who doesn’t have to sleep on the beach and eat food off the floor.

If I look into Carter’s dark blue eyes, I can almost imagine how this could’ve been. I can pretend that I go to college at Bridgeport and that my biggest problem is having a crush on one of my professors and maybe an annoying roommate who brings her hookups over and eats all my food without asking.

“Hey Lynda,” Carter says, lowering his tone into a soft whisper. “Are you all right? You went away there for a second.”

Fuck. What did I just say? I’m not normal and I’m screwing up even this short interlude of normalcy. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, averting my gaze.

He coaxes me to look back at him with gentle fingers under my chin. “Don’t be sorry. Like I said, I’ve been there. I’ve had an ex who broke my heart. Even though maybe I shouldn’t admit it in front of a pretty girl, because it doesn’t make me sound very manly.”

I can’t help but smile at his self-deprecating tone. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting to having human emotions, Carter. I actually really like that.”

I do. I’ve been used to being around men who had very few emotions and who exploited other people’s emotions and needs to gain power over them. The only ones who were different were Kelley and his friends.

Carter’s reaction to my words is a bright smile.

“What?” I say, unable to keep from smiling back again.

His smile widens. “You just said that you really like me.”

I feel my cheeks heating up. The only guy I’ve ever revealed my feelings to, didn’t reciprocate them. “I—”

He closes the distance between us, stopping just short of touching his lips to mine.

We’re so close that I can see the white flecks in the dark blue pools of his irises and his warm breath on my lips makes me erupt in tiny goosebumps.

I’ve never really been kissed. I refuse to count the one occasion when Aaron tried to shove his tongue into my mouth. I was saving my first kiss for Kelley, but of course he didn’t think about me that way.

Since my wedding night I haven’t wanted to be touched but now I feel that I do. I don’t know Carter that well, but my gut feeling tells me that I’m safe and my body is reacting to his proximity in a way that leaves no room for misunderstanding.

I close the rest of the distance and I realize that I’ve been wondering if Carter’s lips are as soft as they look since meeting him this morning.

At first there’s very little pressure of his lips on mine, as if he wants to be one hundred percent sure that I want this.

And God help me, but I do. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than kissing Carter in a long time. So I scoot closer to him on the edge of the wall, putting more pressure against his velvety soft lips.

That’s Carter’s cue to deepen the kiss and he does so by running the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips.

The first stroke of his tongue against mine sends a spark of electricity and fire down my spine. The tips of my nipples harden, straining against the fabric of my bikini top and there’s a pleasant fluttering in my lower stomach.

I close my arms against his neck and he drags me over and up, settling me on his lap. We’re on a precarious balance, sitting on the edge of the wall but I feel safe, sure that he won’t let me fall.

Our mouths are fused together and after a few instants of hesitation, I begin exploring him too, mimicking his movements. I can vaguely taste the orange juice we’ve been drinking and the kiss is different than how I’d been imagining kisses would feel. He’s claiming my mouth with intense, hungry strokes but he isn’t overpowering, it’s more like a dance rather than a battle for dominance. It’s as if Carter didn’t need to struggle with me for control. But that doesn’t mean that he’s weak; he’s confident in his exploration giving as good as he gets.

The result is that I never want to stop kissing him, feeling the strong rhythm of his heart beating against my own chest. He feels so different than Aaron. My husband was thin and wiry, hard in a bony, unpleasant way.

Carter’s rock hard muscles feel solid through the soft cotton of his t-shirt but there’s more meat on his bones and he feels firm but not completely unyielding.

I moan when he nips playfully at my bottom lip, hugging myself tighter to him, until our chests are smashed together. He also smells so good. Not some overpowering, expensive cologne but soap and a hint of sunscreen.

His hands are settled on my hips, squeezing lightly as we keep kissing until we’re both breathless. “Oh, fuck.” He chuckles, breaking the kiss but keeping me in his arms. “I forgot about the croissants.”

It takes me a second to shake off the lust induced spell Carter had me under. I look at him with what I’m sure is a flushed, dazed expression as my body is still vibrating with elation from our kisses. “Huh?” I ask.

I know, I know. Way to sound like an idiot, but I’d dare anyone to be coherent after one of Carter’s kisses.

He shifts slightly, producing another paper bag with the logo of the resort’s cafe. “We’ve been sitting on them, I’m afraid they’re ruined now.” He opens the bag and the two croissants in there look more like pancakes. “I got you some croissants for later, since you seemed to like them so much that—”

A buzzing sound stops him in his tracks and he carefully slides off the wall, depositing me back on the boardwalk. “Shit, I have to take this. Excuse me, Lynda.”

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