Chapter 16

It takesCarter just under an hour to get my phone number. He texts me a link to a trailer for the Disney movie we are apparently taking Chloe to with the message, “You asked for this.”
“It looks heartwarming and adorable,” I reply.
“This is definitely the first date you expected, right?” he answers.
“Actually, I never agreed to go out with you in the first place,” I remind him.
“Details, details,” he replies.
I clock out promptly at four and head home, figuring even if I’m not calling it a date, I should probably change out of my work T-shirt before I meet him and Chloe at the movie theater.
Before I even get out of my shirt, Carter texts me that there’s been a change in plans, Chloe is hungry and she insists she needs to eat before the movie. He tells me to meet him at Chick-fil-A down the road from the theater.
“Not there,” I text back.
“Why not?” he asks.
People from my church work there, and I don’t really want to run into them while I’m out with Carter Mahoney. That’s probably the wrong thing to say, so instead, I try a redirect. “How about wings again? Or Sonic?”
“Chloe thinks she’s royalty, she can’t be bothered to eat in a car. She requires sit-down dining and chicken nuggets. If you want to fight with a five-year-old about waffle fries, you be my guest. I’ve already traveled that road. It’s a losing battle.”
I crack a smile. “How about drive-thru Chick-fil-A and we take it to the park? I’ve never known a child to get mad about going to the park, no matter how prissy.”
“Why don’t you want to go inside Chick-fil-A? Do you know someone who works there or something? You like a boy, Ellis? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
Yeah, right. I can only imagine the torment he would inflict on a guy I admitted to liking who isn’t him.
“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “Apparently I only go out with guys I DON’T like.”
“Oh good, well then I’m all set,” he replies.
I toss the phone down on my bed and turn to the closet, looking for a shirt he won’t try to open while we’re sitting in a theater with a small child. To stay on the safe side, I select a cranberry ¾ sleeve ribbed sweater. The material is thin, but with the sleeves, it’s more fitting for cooler weather. Today is a hot day, but it shows no cleavage and shouldn’t tempt him. I can’t believe I have to pick outfits based on what won’t tempt my date. This is terrible. Good lord.
Shoving away that swell of common sense, I tug the top on and pick up my phone to see what Carter’s last text says. “Your reluctance to go there has made me also want Chick-fil-A. You wanna meet there, or should I pick you up?”
“As always, I am bowled over by your concern for what I want,” I reply.
“You’re welcome,” he replies.
I roll my eyes. “I’ll meet you there.”

Carter’s Mustangis parked right up front. I park and approach it. Since it’s hot outside, they have the windows rolled up and the air still on, so I make my presence known by knocking on the window.
Carter kills the engine and lets Chloe out. She slides down off the leather seat, appraises me, then says, “You’re the bookstore lady.”
“That’s me,” I say with a nod. “Is it all right if I tag along to the movie theater with you today?”
“Sure,” she says magnanimously, before taking her brother’s hand and stopping at the edge of the sidewalk. I don’t stop walking until I realize she isn’t following, so she chastises me. “Gotta look both ways before you cross the street.”
“That’s right. Thank you for reminding me about that,” I tell her.
Now that she’s sure no cars are coming, she crosses. I walk ahead and open the door for her, all but forgetting the reason I hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place.
Then I see my youth pastor’s younger brother behind the counter and my hopes of not being seen are completely dashed.
“Hey, Zoey,” he says brightly, flashing me a smile. “Lovely to see you, as always.” His gaze drifts past me to Carter and his smile droops.
Steeling myself, I approach the counter and study the menu much harder than I need to. “Hi, Luke.”
“I see you brought a friend,” Luke remarks.
Because he’s an asshole, Carter strides up to the counter and offers his hand. “Carter Mahoney.”
“Yes, I know who you are,” Luke says, his tone a touch reserved as he reluctantly shakes Carter’s hand. His gaze drifts back to me and he makes a painful effort to inject something more like enthusiasm into his tone. “I didn’t realize you were friends with the star quarterback.”
Instead of making my life easier, Carter lets go of his sister’s hand and drapes his arm around my waist, tugging me close. Like he did that first night he showed up at my house and blindsided me with soup and manipulation, he asks, “What looks good, babe?”
Luke’s smile tightens, but he looks down at his cash register to keep from openly judging me, I think.
Great. Fantastic. I slide an unamused look at Carter, but he flashes me his bullshit golden boy smile.
Chloe decides she has been ignored for long enough, and she puts her small hands on the edge of the counter and peers over at Luke. “We’re going to the movies.”
With his free hand, Carter ruffles her hair. “That’s right. First, why don’t you tell the nice cashier what you want to eat?”
Luke briefly meets Carter’s gaze, letting him know he’s aware of the subtle put-down, then he goes about taking our order. It’s just as bad as I worried it would be, maybe worse. Somehow I did not expect Carter to call me babe. I knew just my association with someone in Carter’s crowd—let alone Carter himself—wouldn’t shine my halo any, but he may as well have stamped me with his seal to let Luke know we’re together—even though we’re not. I wanted to object, but that would have been even weirder. Better to ignore it and get to a booth as quickly as possible.
At least once we’re seated and waiting for our food, I can glare at Carter in peace.
“What?” he asks, with a ridiculous attempt at innocence.
“That is my pastor’s brother,” I inform him.
“And?”
“And he goes to our school, so he knows who you are.”
Carter cocks an eyebrow. “And?”
I shrug. “No big deal, I guess I’m just going to Hell now.”
Carter smirks. “Because you’ve been seen in public with me? That seems a little dramatic.”
“My pastor will hear all about it and stop praying for me. Decide I’m a lost cause.”
“If your pastor knows enough about my life to know I’m bad news, I think he’s got much bigger problems than the fate of your eternal soul. This town loves me. I can do no wrong around here.”
“You do lots of wrong,” I mutter. “What about that art teacher that had to move because of you? Grace told me, so he probably knows about that.”
Carter waves off my concerns. “Who cares? I don’t care what anyone thinks about me going out with you, do I? So why should you care?”
“Because, as you said, you can do no wrong in this town. I am in the opposite situation. My family and I are about one complaint away from being run out of town with pitchforks after the whole Jake debacle.”
“I’m hungry,” Chloe states, leaning forward on the table.
“Your food will be out in just a minute,” he tells her.
“I want my milkshake,” she says, looking up at him.
“You’ll get it when it’s ready. Be patient.”
“I hate being patient,” she tells him, resting her chin on her arms and sulking.
“Yeah, so do I,” he says, winking at me.
I shake my head. “Terrible.”
Poor Luke has to bring our food to the table when it’s done. At least Carter is sitting on the opposite side of the booth with Chloe and not over here with me, I guess. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that Luke doesn’t approve of the company I’m keeping, and knowing all I know, I can’t really fault him for it.

Once the stressof being seen with Carter by my pastor’s brother passes, the rest of the night is actually really nice. We take Chloe to the movie theater, get ice cream, then go back to their house and play Mario Kart with her until she passes out on the couch.
Carter takes Chloe upstairs and puts her in bed, so I make sure when he comes back down, I have my purse handy, my shoes on, and I’m standing, my body language clearly informing him that it’s time for me to leave. Ordinarily I wouldn’t come back to his house at all, but I figured with Chloe in the room, I would be safe.
Now Chloe is asleep upstairs and we’re in the house alone, so I am no longer protected by anything. Add to that the fact that he specifically said if he wanted to fuck me, he would take me to his house, and I’m feeling pretty antsy about getting out of here.
As he walks back into the great room, Carter eyes up my defensive position and faintly smirks. “Where do you think you’re rushing off to, princess?”
I keep both hands fastened around the handles of my purse and take a step back. “I need to get home. I have some studying to do before bed, and I already texted my mom and told her I’d be on my way, so… she’ll be waitin’ for me.”
“Nah,” he says, moving directly into my space. “Not yet. We’ve been babysitting all night. Now we can spend some one-on-one time together.”
“Yeah, well, I only really agreed to come out today because the little girl would be there, so…” I trail off as his hand closes around my wrist and he tugs me back toward the couch.
“Come on,” he says.
My stomach drops as he pulls me forward. I put some effort into pulling back, but it’s a measly resistance. Meeting his gaze, I say, “Come on, Carter. Let me go home.”
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he tells me.
I swallow, watching him warily.
“I’m not,” he insists, dragging me toward the couch. “I want to kiss you, that’s all. Kissing didn’t bother you last night, did it?”
Last night isn’t something I even want to think about, but I’m more focused on this night. “You promise?”
His lips curve up and he pushes me down on the couch. “You believe my promises, princess?”
The breath rushes out of me as I ease back on the couch, watching him like a suicidal gazelle might watch the hungry lion as he approaches. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” I ask, as he neatly moves my legs so I’m horizontal on the couch, then comes down on top of me. Once more, he pins me down, imprisoning my wrists against the soft couch cushion.
“Of course you have a choice,” he says, bending his head to kiss my neck. “I can make you do a lot of things, but I can’t make you trust me. That, you have to give me.”
Does he want that? My trust? If so, boy, has he set some goals for himself. “Do you think it’s easy to trust you when you’re so willing to pounce on me?” I ask him.
“Didn’t say it was easy,” he remarks, nipping at the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a jolt straight through my body. “A challenge isn’t enough to stop the magnificent Zoey Ellis though, is it?”
I crack a smile, even though I know he must be picking on me. “Magnificent, huh? I thought I was an ice princess.”
“Sometimes,” he acknowledges, his lips moving to my earlobe. Pleasurable shivers dance across the back of my neck and down my spine as he nips that, too. “But sometimes you’re warm.” He kisses my neck. “Sometimes you’re sweet.” Another kiss, trailing closer to my face. “Sometimes you’re a real pain in the ass.”
“How romantic,” I say dryly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back to look at me.
His lips tug up in a faint smile. “You’re a lot of different things, just like me.”
That’s true. We certainly aren’t the same, he and I, but given we’ve experienced things with one another we haven’t experienced with anyone else, we probably do have insight into layers that our friends and families haven’t even peeked at.
That’s interesting to think about. Intimacy seemed a little intimidating, but looking at it this way, as another way to bond with someone… well, maybe a little less so.
“Tell me something,” I begin, holding his gaze. “What is it you want from me? You can be honest,” I add, quickly. “I’d much prefer your honesty, even if it’s… something unusual.”
Smirking faintly at how carefully I worded that, he says, “I don’t know if I want anything all that unusual. I want you. Simple, right?”
Instead of giving me time to answer, he restrains me a little more and bends his head, kissing his way up and down my neck again. Even held down and a little afraid, that feels good, so I close my eyes and soak it up.
My chest seems to tighten as I struggle to draw in enough air. It’s not so much the physical weight of Carter crushing me that’s the problem, it’s the knowledge of how helpless I really am beneath him. He can make all the promises in the world, but he could decide not to honor them and make good on his initial threat right here, right now. I was even safer at the party than I am now. Right now, there is literally no one around to hear me scream.
That rational fear pierces the pleasurable sensation of his mouth traveling up and down my neck. I gasp like I’m coming up for air, and try to yank my wrists free.
I hear and dislike the trace of panic in my own voice as I tell him, “Carter, stop. I need to go. I need to go home.”
Running his lips along my jaw, he murmurs, “What’s the magic word?”
“Please,” I add, pulling at my wrists, but he won’t release me.
He smiles, then kisses me briefly on the lips. “No. But I appreciate you asking so nicely.”
“Tell me somethin’ else,” I say, grasping for some kind of control over at least some part of this situation.
“What do you wanna know?” he asks.
“Did last night mean anything to you? I mean, you want to do it again, right?”
“I do,” he verifies with a single nod, watching me to see where I’m going with this.
“So, I think you’re right. I need to be able to trust you. That’s the only way we’ll ever get to a place where… where maybe I could see that happening again. I did some research—obviously informal research, and I don’t have the proper educational background to wrap my head all the way around this. Or even all the information about you. I’m winging it, but I’m trying to figure out how to handle you. I’m trying, but I don’t have all the information.”
His voice lightens with amusement. “How to handle me?”
“You’re not like other guys,” I state, meeting his gaze. “Surely you realize that.”
His amusement dissipates and he watches me curiously. “And you’re not like other girls,” he states.
Lifting my eyebrows and looking pointedly at my arms pinned against his couch, I say, “That’s a given, or we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“True. You’d probably be buried in a shallow grave somewhere.”
The amusement in his voice is so wrong. I shake my head. “No. It’s not funny to joke about murdering women. Can we not? I can’t be completely sure you’re joking, and I’d like to tackle one monstrous thing at a time.”
“All right.” He bends to kiss one of the wrists he has pinned down. Not just once, he lavishes the sensitive skin of my wrist with his mouth’s attention. I struggle to stay focused, surprised at how good it feels. How sensual it is to have his lips running so tenderly over the area he’s been restraining.
Focusing is harder when he does that, but I try anyway. This feels important, and I hate to hope I’m actually connecting with him, but I might as well try.
“I think the first thing I need to know is, what part of this appeals to you?”
He stops kissing my wrist and looks at me skeptically. “Which part of sex appeals to me?”
“No. Um…” I don’t know exactly how to refer to it, so I tilt my head toward the wrist he still has restrained. “The force. I mean, do you really want to hurt me? Is it a power thing? A control thing? What makes it feel good to you?”
“Does it matter?”
Evasion, already. “Carter, I’m tryin’ to understand you,” I state, mild frustration entering my tone. “Even after everything, I am trying. If you want me to trust you, give me a reason to.”
“I don’t have to, though, do I?” he asks, letting his hand slide down between my legs. I’m wearing jeans today, so when he cups me this time, it’s through two layers of fabric. “If I want to, I can take this right now.”
Ignoring the sinking in my stomach, I hold his gaze. “You could. But it would only happen once. I would never let you get me alone again. Is that what you want? Is this a conquest thing? You said once you could fuck me and get me out of your system. Is that all this is to you? Some kind of drive to take my virginity, then you’ll be done with me?”
Shaking his head noncommittally, he says, “Not really. Like I said, I like you.”
“You like me but you want to hurt me?” I question.
“It’s not about hurting you.”
Progress! “Hurting me doesn’t… do anything for you?”
Frowning faintly, he shakes his head. “No, pain doesn’t do much for me. It’s the struggle, I guess. I do like overpowering you. Mentally, physically—I just like taking you on. I don’t know why, exactly; I guess I’ve never felt so well-matched. Hell, I like doing it even when I know I’m not going to fuck you, just to see the fear in your eyes. That’s fucked up, isn’t it?”
While a brutal confession, it also strikes me as vulnerable, and I want to reinforce his honesty, so I tug free the wrist he kissed and touch his face tenderly. Holding his gaze, I shake my head. “Not necessarily. What do you see when you look at me? Do you think I’m weaker than you, someone easy to pick on? Or do you see me as strong?”
“Strong,” he says, without hesitation. “One of the strongest people I’ve ever met, in ways I didn’t even know people could be.”
“And you like having me at your mercy,” I say, to verify. “Maybe you like the power it gives you, overpowering someone you think is so strong?”
He nods, watching my face. His dark eyes are slightly hooded, either with lust or skepticism, I’m not sure.
“Does it turn you on to think of me helpless?” I ask.
“For me,” he specifies. “Not helpless in general, only for me.”
I nod my head, swallowing. “Does it lessen your arousal to think of me enjoying it?”
“No. I want you to enjoy it. I like the cute little helpless sounds you make when you come.”
Flushing, I drop my gaze to his chest and try to focus on my train of thought without the distraction of bashfulness. “Does it lessen your arousal to picture me crying? Begging you to stop? Meaning it?”
He hesitates for a second, deliberating over whether or not he wants to be honest, but then says, “No.”
I let out a breath, but try to keep hold of my objectivity.
So, he can take or leave my pleasure, but he prefers it. All right. My stomach sinks from the weight of all my nerves as I try to find the courage for this next part. “Okay, so, what if you could go through all the motions, but it was just playing? Have you ever...” I clear my throat, trying again. “You’ve obviously had some sexual experiences, so have you ever explored these desires with any of them?”
Carter shakes his head, still watching me. “I told you, you were the first.”
“Okay, so, something I came across—” God, this is awkward. Might as well just spit it out. “Different people obviously like different things. Sexuality is a spectrum, and sexual interests vary and evolve, and… just because you may be into something that not everyone considers normal, it doesn’t mean it has to be criminal, you would just have to have a certain kind of partner. You can engage in safer play that would indulge the same…” I have no idea how to say what I’m trying to say. My head is a jumbled mess, I don’t know if he’s even receptive to it, and I just feel so awkward.
He isn’t ridiculing me when he speaks, though, and he uses my actual name, which does encourage me. “Just spit it out, Zoey.”
“I just wonder what might happen if you had someone who understood your desires, someone who consented to playing with you the way you like. If you like taking someone’s power, maybe you could try it with someone who would happily surrender her power to you.”
I glance up at his face to make sure he’s still with me, and when he appears to be, I continue.
“But the thing is, in any kind of situation where power is given over to you like that, it requires a lot of trust. More than average relationships require. It would have to be with someone open-minded, but most importantly, you would have to invest in them. You would have to really care, because it might not always go so well, and if you push too far and actually hurt your plaything, then you need to take care of them after. You can’t just disregard their needs or their limits; you’d have to make it right. I think your needs can be met if you look to satisfy them in the right place, but in the wrong place… you’re going to become someone’s nightmare. There is a line between abuse and rough play, but you have predatory tendencies, Carter. I can say with reasonable certainty, if you don’t legitimately care about your partner, that line will disappear.”
His dark eyes light up with interest. “Plaything?”
I was testing his response, and I’m not shocked to find he likes that phrase. I swallow. “I imagine your ideal partner would have to find some pleasure in being your plaything.”
Cocking his head, he asks, “Are you volunteering?”
I shake my head quickly to disabuse him of that notion. “No. We’re just talking, that’s all. I’m tryin’ to get a read on what you’re interested in, what your specific needs are to see if maybe…”
“Have I said yes to anything that’s a dealbreaker for you yet?”
The faint trace of hope evident in his asking that strikes a sympathetic chord and gives me pause. “I don’t think so, but I haven’t even experienced normal sex yet, so I can’t be sure. The fact that I’m here right now after everything you’ve done to me makes me think I might be able to handle it. It doesn’t start with sex, though.” I lift my eyebrows, eyeing him sternly. “It starts with building trust and a relationship. Like any relationship. I know you don’t have many of those, but normally before having sex, people connect with one another as human beings, build up their emotional attachment, and sex happens afterward.”
His nose wrinkles up with exaggerated disinterest. “That’s not really my style.”
“Well, it is mine,” I inform him. “Trust is central to any solid relationship, but especially one like this. If I’m going to trust someone with unfettered access to my body, I have to be able to trust them with everything else first. Let’s get to know each other more and see if it’s something we’re even interested in pursuing.”
“But knowing what you know already, you might be?” he asks.
I don’t know if my acceptance matters, but these flecks of vulnerability make me think it does, so I nod my head. “Maybe.”
Nodding his head, he says, “Interesting,” as if he’s conducting his own study. “I guess I can be patient.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I offer, lightly.
He smiles down at me. “Isn’t it?”