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“Davis,” he purrs. Ah, there we go. “I want this because you are the sexiest fucking man alive, and I missed you.”
He finally lets me have his lips and I meet that kiss, shoving my tongue into his mouth, seeking ownership of it. Kissing Carter is one of the greatest pleasures of my life. I want more of it. I want a lifetime of it. I want those drunken words he texted, those words he said to my voicemail. I want them to be real.
He comes up for air, and the question that oozes from his lips hit me with a jolt.
“Did you listen to my voice mails?”
How is this man inside my head? What the hell. When did I become so transparent? Carter isn’t looking at me, though. He is still nibbling at me like I’m his favorite snack.
“The question is not did I listen to them. The question is how many times did I listen to them?”
He pulls away again and looks at me with no small amount of surprise.
“Why does that surprise you?”
“I…uh, I don’t know,” he stammers.
“The bigger surprise to me is that you remember what you said. You do, remember, right?”
That’s what this is about. He thinks I forgot what I said. Thinks I was too drunk to recall. He’s afraid I didn’t mean it. Or maybe he is afraid I did. But if he was afraid of that, would he have shown up here?
I shrug.
“I am a highly functioning alcoholic,” I say. “At least that is what I always told myself.”
Highly functioning. Ha. It means that I can hold down a job. It means that I can somehow design these intricate buildings and, low and behold, once built, they remain standing. It also used to mean I could get to a level of drunkenness that fell short of blackout drunk.
I don’t forget things. I never used to. But then I got older, and those brain cells I was rapidly murdering weren’t coming back. Then Davey came into my life and everything I spent decades trying to forget… I no longer want to forget. I don’t want to forget a single moment with him.
Those words I blurted out on his voice mail…and oh shit, I think there were texts too. Well, I meant them. I remember them. And I meant them. Alcohol made me say them. But I meant them.
I miss you.
I want you.
I love you.
Then the words he just said registered in my buzzing brain.
“You listened to them multiple times?”
“I did,” he nods and steps back to me.
Davis listened to me declaring my love for him like a drunken fool, multiple times, and he is here. He came here. He didn’t brush it off. He wasn’t scared. He listened to those words multiple times, and he came to me.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
I freeze.
“Unless you didn’t mean it.”
I reach for his lips, and he pulls away. I laugh. Dammit. He laughs too and smiles.
“Tell me, Carter. Tell me what those voice mails said.”
“But you just said you listened multiple times, so…”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that.”
