Free Into You by Danielle Sibarium

take a peek at one of the most intimate areas of Carter's life. A place he'd spent much time, and I'd no doubt, brought many before me.
    Not wanting anything to happen I might regret , I tried to keep my mind occupied with useless information and focused on the surroundings. Maybe they'd tell me more about him.
    No. Nothing really. The cherry wood furniture and sleigh bed were the focus. The dark walls were mostly bare. A lone mirror hung above the dresser to the left of the bed. I guess it was better than finding a mirror on the ceiling. With Carter, I took nothing for granted. No pictures were hung. Not even decorative ones. The only adornment of the room was the large screen plasma television hung above an entertainment center.
    Carter gave my hand a light tug, pulling me over to the bed. He sat on the edge and motioned to the spot beside him.
    “Sit.”
    I hesitated, trying to ignore the desire pulsating throughout my body. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    “I won’t bite. Not unless you want me to.”
    I averted my eyes, “I should leave now .”
    “Don't." His grey eyes, glassy from the alcohol were piercing, intense. "Stay,” he paused, then swallowed hard, “please.”
    “I really wouldn't feel right being . . . intimate tonight.” Definitely not tonight.
    Until this point I managed to avoid sex like a skyscraper avoids an octopus. One just doesn't go with the other. I held steadfast and steady. We'd only been dating a little over a month, but each time we saw each other I wondered if that would be the night he broke me.
    Each time Carter invited me to his house I declined.  And I'd yet to invite him into my house. He straight out terrified me. At least my feelings for him did, and I feared taking the relationship to the next level. I worried sleeping together would ruin the magic and intimacy between us, not add to it.
    My sister thought I was crazy, but from the night we met I felt like Carter had an agenda and sex was it. Although he didn’t make it obvious I could read between the lines of his blasé manner and his noncommittal attitude.
    Carter didn’t seem interested in the details of my private life, nor did he offer any of his own. I understood that a little better now. He had no desire to meet my friends or introduce me to his. He hadn’t discussed bringing me home to meet Mom, and did his best to steer clear of discussing his family. Except, of course, for telling me that his father was dead.
    At first I conjured up a worst case scenario, imagining him as a serial killer or a psychotic with antisocial tendencies. I kept telling myself I'd end the relationship, but each time I considered it, Carter threw me a curveball.
    As if he could read my thoughts he offered a tidbit of information that kept me intrigued. Carter opened up and spoke of his great pain over the recent loss of his father who died suddenly of heart failure. A father he was close to and idolized as a child. A father whose love could never be felt again.
    I thought his suffering explained his reluctance to discuss matters close to his heart. It made sense and endeared him to me. But still I kept my guard up and tried to keep myself from being put i nto a compromising situation.
    “C’mon,” Carter sounded very much like a little boy trying to get his way. “I promise I won’t try anything.”
    I hesitated a moment, then gave in to my desire. I sat on the bed beside him, my heart racing, my stomach back flipping in anticipation, wondering what I got myself into.
    Carter leaned in to me, using one hand to steady himself, the other getting lost in my hair. This time I couldn't resist him anymore. I didn't want to. I initiated a long, delightful kiss, loosing myself in the pleasure of being in his room and on his bed. I inched over, closer, pressing my body against his.
    The sweet kiss we started with evolved into something bred of hunger and need. My fingers wound into his hair, holding him close. His hand travelled from