by Jolie Day
That last question surprised Liz as it echoed around her head. She didn’t even know if she wanted kids, so why did she care if Carter did? Why was she even thinking about it? She stood so sharply that her chair was knocked to the ground, her face flaming and her heart pounding as she moved to the stove and turned off the burner under her foaming macaroni. She stirred it, finding it too soft, but she didn’t seem to mind as she reached for the colander on her drying rack.
After she had drained the pasta into the sink and poured it into a bowl, she brought it to the table and poured sauce over it, shoving a few spoonfuls of soggy, soft pasta into her mouth and trying to forget her own thoughts. But they were intrusive, screaming to the front of her mind like a racecar.
Is he the marrying type? Would he want a big wedding or an elopement? Would he rather stay casual? Is that what she wanted? Why am I even thinking about this?
Liz shook her head and finished her dinner, leaving everything on the kitchen table as she raced to her laptop, intending to answer a few client emails and send out some recent orders. She also had to update her checklist for the Navy SEAL series she was doing with Carter, hoping that work would clear her mind of any thoughts that were too serious for their current relationship.
Which really wasn’t a relationship at all, she reasoned. It was a working thing. All they did together was take photographs and quibble about stance and posing and the light and…it wasn’t a big deal. She had forbidden herself just yesterday from making more of it than it was. After he’d stuck his hand down her pants and made her cum with his name on her lips.
Liz shook her head and opened the laptop, which already had her email displayed with several new messages from local galleries and clients from several different time zones, requesting photos to spruce up their work spaces or homes. New photos. Original photos. Liz was only too happy to oblige, as it took all her focus to remember and find the photos that she hadn’t yet sent out. Her highest bidders got her best work and she attached the files with her unremovable watermark on them as samples. The second she got a response back, she would send the actual photo and have a few thousand more dollars in her bank account.
Her savings were tremendous and she still had no idea what, exactly, she was saving for. Her 401k was already filled to the brim, insuring that she would have a pleasant retirement. She had no need for a house just yet (besides, she could probably afford quite a few with her savings) and any travel was all but paid for with a single order. At one point, she might have been saving for a family; kids, a husband, maybe a pet. But that dream had seemed further away with each year that passed.
Until Carter.
Just a thought, just a crazy thought.
With Carter, she could see a future, if only a week in advance. It was longer than she’d been able to see with any of her past boyfriends. They never liked the fact that she liked to travel, that she could never really set down roots, that settling down just wasn’t in the cards for her just yet. The one time she’d even gotten close to an engagement, her boyfriend had asked her to stop working so that he could support her.
But that’s not what Liz wanted, so she had ended it a moment later, booking a flight to her next city.
Some might have seen that as cold and callous and bitchy, but Liz wanted to be free for as long as possible and, in her opinion, marriage shouldn’t come with clipped wings. She would never ask for any man she intended to marry not to do what he loved just to make her happy. She would try to find some way to make it work; a way for her to continue to travel and take photographs while he worked on whatever he wanted to, wherever he wanted to, and they supported their family, together.
Why was that so hard to find?
Liz’s mind went back to Carter. She knew that he wasn’t going to stay in Los Angeles permanently. He’d told her that he was just renting from a wealthy friend—a friend that would probably have to come back eventually to reclaim his apartment—and sooner or later, he would be going back to the desert to continue his service in the Navy. She wondered if he’d visit another city before then.
She wondered if he’d want company.
She wondered if he would be the kind of person who wanted to clip her wings.
She doubted it.
Perhaps that was the reason she could see a future with Carter McIntyre.
Chapter Six
“Tell me more about Elizabeth Morgan.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“I highly doubt that.” The doctor raised an eyebrow and Carter looked away, muttering something under his breath. “What was that?”
“Why do you care?” Carter repeated, more loudly this time. “She’s not your patient.”
“No,” the doctor conceded. “But she is an important part of my patient’s life. Is she not?”
Carter was still quiet for a long moment. They could hear the clock ticking above the door as the room stilled, the two men staring at each other over the doctor’s notepad. Finally, Carter broke.
“She’s beautiful,” he said. “Gorgeous, really. Curvy and happy and…I don’t know. She’s pretty, but not in the usual way.”
“What’s the usual way?” the doctor asked, his pen gliding over the paper in his lap.
“The Victoria’s Secret way,” Carter explained. “The Los Angeles way. She’s not airbrushed or nipped and tucked. She’s genuine.”
“I agree that’s pretty hard to find out here,” the doctor laughed.
“Has your wife gotten work done?”
“Is that you trying to change the subject? Insulting my wife?”
“It wasn’t an insult,” Carter insisted. “Just a question.”
“Well, it’s rude.”
“Sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” The older man nodded. “But, yes, she’s had work done.” At Carter’s raised brow, he continued: “Hip replacement.”
Carter chuckled and shook his head. “Fair,” he said, nodding.
“So what else can you tell me about her?”
“Who?”
“Elizabeth Morgan.”
Carter shrugged. “She’s a photographer.”
“I know that already. Takes after her father, you said.”
“Only less lighthouses.”
“Tourist attractions, yes?”
“Landmarks.” His fingers curled like quotation marks in the air.
“Still, a legacy is a legacy. Is she good?”
“Yeah,” Carter said. “I’ve seen a few of her photos. I can’t say I hate them.” The doctor gave him a look. “Yeah, they’re good,” Carter relented, grinning a bit. “Really good. She has incredible patience.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She always has to wait for the perfect shot,” he explained, with something like affection in his tone, though he quickly tried to hide it, looking down at the gray carpeting beneath his combat boots. “She’ll stand there for five, ten, fifteen minutes with her finger on the capture, not moving, just…waiting. She won’t even take her eye off the screen of her camera. I swear she doesn’t even blink.” He rolled his eyes but the doctor could see the tiny upturn of his lips.
“She sounds pretty special.”
Carter was silent and the doctor sighed. That must have been it for the day. It was good while it lasted, though. Carter was opening up more and more with each session they had, but he still had yet to talk about his trauma out in the desert. Every time Dr. Maxwell asked about his reaction to the events in Afghanistan, he went silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I guess we’re done for the day then?” he said, placing his pen and pad to the side and leveling Carter with a disapproving look.
The younger man just nodded, stood, saluted, and left.
*****
“Are you alright?” Liz asked, looking at Carter through the lens of her camera. She pulled away from the tripod and blinked up at him over the top. “You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m fine,” C
arter insisted. “Just tired.”
“Again?” Liz asked. “Aren’t you getting enough sleep?”
No, he almost said. But he stopped himself before answering. He gave a shrug. “I get as much as I get.”
“That’s not really an answer, you know,” Liz pointed out.
They were in the gazebo outside their building. The skies were partly cloudy, but there was a beautiful ring of light around the small structure, making it glow. Carter sat on the small steps that led into it, leaning back against the wall and looking up at the sky so that the light made his eyes shine. He tried not to squint.
“I’m fine,” Carter insisted. “I get more sleep here than I did out there.” That much was true. He was actually lucky if he got more than an hour a night in Afghanistan; they were always waiting for the next attack. So, compared to that, he slept like a baby.
Still, it was often hard for him to fall asleep and stay asleep. He heard explosions almost the second he closed his eyes. The darkness taunted him, showing him images of lost friends and comrades. Sometimes, he would just stare out the window beside his bed until the sun came out; only then was he able to sleep soundly.
But then Liz called to let him know where they’d be going that day and he would drag himself through a cool shower to wake up and then down to the lobby to meet up with her. By the time he got there, every day, he had composed himself enough to look as well-rested as possible.
Sometimes, that didn’t always cut it. Liz Morgan was unsurprisingly observant.
“Maybe we should take a break,” she suggested, removing her camera from the tripod and carrying both up into the gazebo.
“We’ve only been at it for an hour,” Carter pointed out, not missing the sudden blush that popped up on Liz’s round cheeks.
“Still,” Liz said. “I’ve got a few good shots so far. Besides, I’d rather photograph a subject that was a little more awake. How about a relaxing game of Chess?”
“Chess?”
Liz motioned to the life-size pieces set up on the lawn just outside the gazebo. “Chess,” she confirmed. “You know how to play, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Carter huffed, getting to his feet. “We didn’t have much in the desert, but we did have a rec room. Chess and Monopoly were the only two board games we had available. Guess which one usually ended in bloodshed.” He snorted when Liz laughed, shaking her head.
“Alright, then,” she said. “White or black?”
Their game lasted a little over an hour and, as they played, neither of them noticed the sky darkening as clouds rolled in. Their focus was only on each other and their game pieces, their eyes scanning over the board as they planned out their next course of action. Carter learned a few of Liz’s tells as he watched her.
When she rubbed her nose, it was to hide a smile as if she had just found the most perfect move to play next. When she stretched her arms above her head, she was stalling, most likely because she was stumped. When her hands flexed, she was trying to decide between two different moves, based on what she thought he might do next. When that happened, Carter liked to make moves that made absolutely no sense to the game, whatsoever, just to throw her off.
He delighted in her moderately horrified expressions. Especially the way her nose crinkled in annoyance when she finally realized exactly what he was trying to do. She huffed and rolled her eyes, but he caught the smile on her lips.
Liz saw all of his tells, as well.
The slight nuances in his expressions and the way his eyes flitted to each piece moments before he reached for them. The way he grinned when he thought he was being so clever. She even saw the pattern in his behavior when he tried to trick her with random moves. She pretended to be annoyed with him, but she actually loved this rare playful side to his personality. She imagined this was him opening up to her a little bit more; maybe even freeing himself a little bit from what went on overseas.
It made her even more attracted to him than she already been up until that point.
In the end, they came to a draw. Neither of them could make any legal move and neither was in check. No matter how many times they went over the board, there was nothing to be done.
“Truce?” Carter asked, walking to the center of the board and holding out his hand. Liz met him in the middle and shook it with a tiny grin.
“Truce,” she agreed.
A frisson of electricity went through her body the second their skin met and she wondered if he could feel it, too. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and found Carter staring straight at her, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping slightly. He looked ready to say something when, suddenly, the skies opened up and rain fell like a sheet over them and the chess board, soaking them completely.
Liz let out a shriek and made to run for the cover of the gazebo, but Carter’s hand held fast to hers and tugged her back against his body. Before she even knew what was happening, his lips had slanted down over hers as his hands cupped her cheeks, taking her breath away with the firm press of his mouth.
She was stunned for only a moment or two before Liz wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stood up on her tiptoes for a better angle. It was as if the rain had suddenly vanished and there was only them, their lips melding, their hands searching one another’s body.
It was like something out of a photograph.
*****
Liz tossed her camera bag down on the soft carpet as she led Carter into her apartment. His hands were on her hips, his lips on her neck, his front to her back, pressing their damp bodies together as they stumbled through the apartment.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Carter used his grip on Liz to turn her body completely around and slant his mouth down over hers, holding her to him with strong arms. He kept a firm grip on her cheek, his lips nearly bruising hers with the force of his kiss. Liz wasn’t complaining one bit. In fact, she gave as good as she got.
Her hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it deftly even as she tugged him back toward her bedroom by the hem of his shirt, which immediately came untucked in her haste to bare his chest to her hungry eyes. Carter repaid the favor, tugging her sweater up and over her head to reveal the thin white camisole that hugged each of her curves and showed her hardened nipples, even through the cotton of the shirt and her bra underneath. The second he saw them, Carter rested his large hands over her breasts, which caused Liz’s steps to falter and her knees to go weak until she was slumped against the wall that separated her living room and kitchen.
Carter held her up with his body and reached down, hoisting her up into his arms and turning to place her atop the counter top in the kitchen. The move took Liz’s breath away, leaving her panting on her perch as Carter lifted up her camisole until it was pooled atop her breasts and he was able to press his mouth to the skin revealed by her bra. He reached behind her, unhooking it and peeling the wet fabric from her body, along with the camisole, and tossing it over his shoulder as he planted his face in the valley between her breasts. Liz let out a long moan as she ran her fingers through his hair and threw her head back, her legs opening further to allow him closer to her.
Carter took full advantage, his fingers undoing the button of her jeans and practically ripping the zipper off in his haste to rid her of her clothing. Liz gasped, freezing for a moment in her lusty shock, before helping him by kicking off the soggy material that seemed determined to stick to her body.
Finally, they got it off and Carter’s hands feasted on the smooth, wet skin that he hadn’t been able to touch in weeks. It had been weeks since he’d last laid his eyes on this much of her bare body and that was far too long.
Liz wasn’t faring much better. The only part of Carter’s body that was bare was his chest, and even there he had a pair of dog tags hanging around his neck—at her request. They glittered in the low lighting of her apartment, mesmerizing her. Liz reached out to tug at them, her fingers running over the letters and numbers and the small emblem of the US Armed Forces, declari
ng Carter one of them. They fit well with his physique; his broad shoulders and muscular arms, his big hands, the fingers long and callused, his chest with all the healed scars from training and combat and just…
Everything about him screamed power.
But there was something in his eyes that hinted at danger. Something that scared and exhilarated her at the same time.
Wetness pooled between her legs as she played with the chain at the back of his neck, pressing herself up into his mouth and moaning aloud. “Please,” she gasped. She didn’t know exactly what she was asking for, as the fog in her mind seemed to be clouding everything and jumbling her thoughts.
Carter seemed to know, though, as he lifted her from the counter, his lips sliding up from her chest to her neck and he moved them down the hall. Liz’s legs wound around his waist, her ankles locking at the small of his back, holding on as tightly as possible as he carried her into her bedroom.
Neither of them seemed to notice that the door was closed (but who could really blame them?) so Carter ended up pressing her up against it, making Liz cry out in both pain and ecstasy. He caught the cry with his lips as he reached up behind her, grasping the knob and turning it so that they both spilled inside stumbling over one another until they collapsed on Liz’s king-sized bed.
They continued to make out, Carter’s hips cradled by Liz’s thighs, until air became a necessity and they pulled away, simultaneously. Liz’s eyes fluttered open as she looked up at him kneeling above her. Carter’s tags were swinging between their bodies and Liz reached up, tugging lightly on them, though not hard enough to pull his body back to hers with any kind of force. She smiled as she let go and snaked her hands down his chest, feeling every rigid edge of muscle and tendon until she reached his waistband and tucked her fingers underneath, teasing the light dusting of hair that led to his hardness. It pointed there like an arrow and Liz’s fingers itched to follow it to her final destination.
She used her thumbs to undo the button of his jeans and began to push the material down his legs. They were slightly looser on his body than Liz’s own jeans had been on hers, so in no time they were pooling around his feet. Carter kicked them off, along with his shoes, with ease, and then reached for his boxers. Liz’s hands landed atop his, stopping him before he could even begin.
