Page 89 of I Think He Knows

Because Carter’s eyes are stoked with molten heat as they move slowly, deliberately, over every one of my curves. The look in them is ravenous, like he’s never seen anything he wants so much.

And suddenly, I know with every fiber of my being—as sure as I know my own name—that his expression is real. That his want is genuine. This is a face I’ve never seen on a movie screen. No. This look is all for me.

I don’t stop to question it. I don’t stop to doubt it. Doubt him. Doubt myself. For once, I let my instincts guide me and do what I want to do.

I slide into the cool water, every inch of my body tensed with want. It’s a balmy night, and the shock sends goosebumps all over my body.

He’s by my side immediately, wrapping his arms around me and pulling to him.

“Cold?” he asks in a low voice, running his hands down my arms in such a way that produces more goosebumps than the water did.

I shake my head. “Not anymore.”

He tilts his chin down and his eyes fix on mine. I see the clench in his jaw, feel the tension in his body as we look at each other for one moment. Two moments. Three.

We’re a rubber band. A rubber band that’s been wound so tight, for so long, that when all resistance finally—finally—gives way, the snap is sure to feel like an explosion of supernova proportions.

“Hi,” he says again. His voice is gravelly, and his eyes—still trained on mine—darken, his pupils dilating inkily into the blue of his irises in a way that makes me suck in a sharp breath.

“Hi,” I practically wheeze out in response.

And then, he’s kissing me. And I’m kissing him, and my hands are tangled in his hair, and in this moment, he is everything and nothing else exists.

Carter’s kisses start slow, deliberate, controlled. His skillful mouth moves over mine, drawing a moan out of me within seconds. It’s a sound he clearly likes, because the kiss goes from sweet to fiery instantly. His hands slide up my body, fingertips skating across my collarbones and along my throat before cupping my face almost desperately. His hot, searing kisses light a match inside my belly, and I’m burning.

There’s a poem I love by a poet named Angie Sijun Lu, and in it, there’s a line where the narrator asks her friend what drowning feels like. Her friend replies that “not everything feels like something else.”

And this,this, is exactly how it feels to kiss Carter—like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. For so many years, I dreamed of what Carter James Callahan’s mouth would feel like on mine, how he would taste, what he would sound like, what his hands would feel like on me…

Now, I know that every single wild fantasy I’ve ever had couldn’t begin to capture the pure, unadulterated bliss of this moment. Couldn’t possibly encapsulate how it feels to experience his pulse quickening beneath my fingers, hear his breath catch in his throat as his control begins to unravel…

Those big hands move to my thighs and he picks me up so I wrap my legs around his waist. His body is flush against mine and everywhere we’re touching feels like an electrical storm crackling.

If thisiswhat drowning feels like, I’d be happy to drown forever.

Because here, cradled in Carter’s arms, I understand desire in a whole new way.

Ten years ago, I gave my virginity to a man—no, aboy—who didn’t want it. I gave him something as a way, I wrongly thought, to make him love me more. A move fueled by desperation, not desire.

But one kiss from Carter is enough to, not erase, but ease those past hurts. There’s something healing in his kiss, an experience of true desire for the first time. Something that makes me understand at a deep, core level that my experiences with sex and sexuality are nothing at all compared to what they can be. What they’re meant to be.

In Carter’s arms, I finally understand how a simple kiss can bring two grown people to their knees. I understand wanting to experience everything with him, the two of us together. Because I love him and want to show him love, rather than do something to make him see me.

This kiss tells me that I am already seen.

29

CARTER

Peaches.

She tastes like peaches.

Cool and sweet and perfect. Something I’m now craving in every form…

“Hellooo? Anyone there?”

I blink, startled out of the memory by the voice coming through the speaker. Thank goodness there are no other vehicles in the drive-thru right now, my head was a million miles away. “Sorry! Sorry. Yes, I’m here.”