by S. L. Scott
I get a few looks, but no one bothers me since it’s apparent I’m waiting for someone because of the two drinks in my hands.
When she returns, she’s smiling. “I don’t like this drink. Can I try yours?”
“Sure.”
I watch as her lips press against the glass and she sips, oh so slow. “That’s much better.” And with that, all the bad from minutes earlier seems to be forgotten.
“Let’s remedy that and get you one.”
We walk through the crowd, past Rachel and Justin who don’t even notice us, to the bar. I’ve kept my hand on her lower back, not able to stop myself from touching her.
After I buy her another drink, she asks, “Do you dance?”
“Not if I don’t have to.”
That makes her laugh, and hearing her laugh makes me laugh, too. “I love to dance, but I don’t like the bump and grind kind of dancing unless I’m dating the guy. I don’t like strangers groping me.”
I look over at the dance floor. “That’s all they’re doing out there.” I lean in closer and whisper, “And I wouldn’t like strangers groping you either.” Her eyes seek mine, sparkling from the spotlights over the bar. I lean back, resting my elbows on the bar so I’m eye level with her. “What do you like to do for fun, Charlie?”
Smiling as if embarrassed, she laughs under her breath. Her shy side is back. “I like to bake. I know, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “My friends used to call me lame for it, but I find it relaxing. It’s a science to me, an experiment.”
How can I not like that? “What do you like to bake?”
“Cakes and cupcakes. Cupcakes are all the rage right now with all these cupcake bakeries popping up everywhere, but I still prefer to make my own.”
“I have a terrible sweet tooth. You might have met your match.” I’m not talking about baking.
“I should make you some. My coworkers have forbidden me from bringing anymore in since they all gained weight.” She laughs again. “What’s your favorite flavor? No, wait! Don’t answer that. I’ll guess.”
“How about instead of guessing, you make some and we’ll go from there.”
“A challenge? I like a good challenge.” She looks me over, analyzing everything about me physically as if that will lead her to my favorite flavor. The next thing she says takes me by surprise. “How about Wednesday?”
She’s setting a date. I like that. “I’m good on Wednesday.”
“You can come over after work—”
“I can bring dinner.”
“And I can bake.” She looks excited, probably because of the baking part, but I like to think it’s about us spending time together again.
I turn back to my drink, deciding I need to finish it and stop staring at the girl. I don’t want to creep her out. I order another, and we chat, getting to know each other in a different way. Although, I feel like I know her—the real Charlie—already.
When we talk about our work, she seems impressed. “Following your dreams. I love that,” she says, wistful.
After another round of cocktails, we look for our friends. A bit unsteady on our feet, we can’t find either of them and joke that they might be hooking up as we speak.
I can tell Charlie is heading toward drunk, so I offer to help her home.
“What time is it?” she asks as we walk out of the club, the brisk spring air hitting us.
“Late,” I reply. “It’s after one.”
“It doesn’t feel late, and I’m not tired.”
I grab her elbow to steady her as she begins to sway. “It is, though. Let’s take a cab.” We get in the short cab line and wait.
“I can take a taxi by myself. You don’t have to worry about me.” She wraps her arm around my mine, holding me close, keeping her warm.
There’s no way I’m sending her in a cab this late by herself. I’m going with her. “No, it’s fine.”
“Well, if we’re sharing a cab,” she says, approaching the curb. We’re next. “Let’s go to yours. I want to read some of your writing.”
I grin to myself and tease her. “I don’t know if you’re in any condition to read right now.”
“I’m not ready to go home, Charlie. I can call Rachel if you’re too tired.”
This girl is complete trouble. “Okay, fine.” I give into her. “We’ll go to mine.”
“You made a rhyme.”
“I think you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” protests the drunk girl next to me. She ducks her body into the taxi, and we take off after I give directions. “You live in a fancy schmancy part of town,” she says. Her body is snuggled against mine.
“You’ll be disappointed then.”
“I doubt I could be disappointed with anything when it comes to you.”
I look at her, shocked by her comment, but she smiles all smug before resting her head on my shoulder. She’s trouble, and I debate whether I should be taking her to my place. I have nothing to hide from her, but the way she’s acting, I’m equally nervous and excited of where this might lead. I won’t take advantage of her, but her cuteness is wearing my willpower down.
I rub my hands over my face, knowing I drank too much as well. I’ll pay for this tomorrow, but I’m going to be happy in the now.
“I like it,” she says when we arrive. Dropping her purse on the entry table, she does a slow spin, taking it all in. “It suits you.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.” I toss my jacket on the couch.
“Yes, it’s a compliment.”
“A drink? Water, beer—”
“Please. Whatever you’re having.”
I grab two beers out of the fridge and twist the caps off, tossing them into the bowl on the bar. I’ve had a weird obsession with collecting beer caps for a few years now. I watch her from the kitchen as she looks at my bookcase, running her finger along my desk. She moves to the window and looks out.
“You have a balcony,” she states. “Can we go out?”
“Mmhm.” I hand her the bottle and open the door for her.
We drink in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the calm compared to the loud thumping of the club. It’s breezy and a little chilly, but not cold tonight. She sets her beer down on the small bistro table and leans on the rail, stepping out of her shoes.
“You’re short.”
That makes her giggle. “Did I kill the illusion?”
“Ha! Not for me.”
“Wait until you see me without makeup then. It’s all a mask to hide the hideousness.”
Setting my drink down. I think I’m also done drinking for the night. Playfully nudging her with my elbow, I shrug. “Whatever. I bet you look even prettier without makeup.”
She bellows in laughter, her head dropping back. “Now that’s a challenge I won’t accept.” She turns more serious as she faces me. “Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
Shifting her weight onto one ankle, she nervously asks, “Can I kiss you?”
“What?” Not what I meant to say at all. Her face falls. Damn it! She threw me off—
“Never mind. It was silly. I just haven’t been kissed in so long, and I miss—”
I step forward, closing the gap. Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her, cutting off her words and ending her doubts.
Chapter 10
My body leans against him, relaxing into a kiss that makes me forget who I am. He kisses me like I’m the most desirable woman in the world. And at this moment in time, I believe him.
The whiskey from earlier clouds my head as I press my body against Charlie’s hard chest. His strong arms hold me to him as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear. I won’t. I can’t. I’m lost in him as my body sparks to life, erupting in a passion different from anything I’ve ever felt before.
I let go and give into my desires. I give into him because I want to, because he’s so damn sexy, but most of all, because this gorgeous man, who was supportive and by my side just a few days ago, turns me on and wants me. It’s
nice to feel desired, to feel pretty and sexy. By the way he’s kissing me I can tell the feeling of want is mutual. I just hope I can make him feel how much I want him, too.
His hips press forward, trapping me between him and the railing as his hands secure me, drawing my body closer. It’s hard to breathe and hard to move, but there is nothing I’d rather be doing than this.
As his tongue caresses mine, I shiver in delight, causing him to still.
“You’re cold. Let’s go inside.” He takes me by the hand and grabs the two bottles with the other.
Walking inside behind him, I feel the warmth of the apartment. I tremble, but if I’m being honest, I’m trembling from his touch, his kisses, and the building urges inside, not the temperature outside.
Releasing my hand, Charlie sets the bottles on the coffee table and turns off the kitchen light. I don’t want an awkwardness to consume me, which can happen if I start overthinking this, so I step forward as he turns on the lamp by the couch.
“Charlie, kiss me.”
He hurries to me. “My pleasure,” he whispers then kisses me. His lips are soft but firm, and his hands grasp me, kneading me with purpose. I’m unsure if his purpose is the same one I feel. Doubt creeps in without warning. How far am I going with him? How much do I want? Am I ready? Am I ready for this? For him?
I kiss him harder and hope the moan he releases into my mouth will shroud my doubts. Our lips part and our breaths blanket each other as we pant for more. I hold him behind the neck as he rests his forehead against mine. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting reality to ruin the moment.
Too much time to think will be the downfall of our activities—activities I’m enjoying far too much to end. So I open my eyes, pleasantly surprised to meet his blue ones. They’re darker than usual, dilated, serious, and wanting.
“I can tell you’re overanalyzing this, thinking too hard,” he says. His voice stays low and suggestive.
“I don’t want to think. I just want to feel again.” I speak the honest truth.
“Just feel.” His words float breathlessly between us, but hold so much weight in their meaning.
Just feel.
Just feel.
Just feel. The words repeat in my head and become my new mantra, giving me the moxie to lead him down the short hall to his bedroom. I stop upon entering, looking around. It feels so intimate in here, not bachelor pad-ish at all. It’s warm and inviting. He releases my hand as I step toward the bed and sit down. There’s a chocolate-brown loveseat under the window with some pillows that appear to be used a lot. Maybe he reads there. I would. It looks so cozy and comfortable.
The furniture in the room isn’t matchy-matchy, but works well together. Every piece feels as if it always belonged together. His comforter is a grey-blue, reminding me of his eyes.
Charlie’s voice brings me back to him before I have a chance to analyze the framed photographs on the wall. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he says, sitting down next to me. He entwines his fingers with mine and places our hands on his thigh.
“No, I want to do this—”
“Do what?” He looks at me, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Be here. Do this . . . you know . . . oh, I don’t know. Just kiss me, damn it!”
A sly smile makes its way across his face as his hand lands gently on my cheek. Caressing my skin with his thumb, he chuckles under his breath, then kisses me exactly how I need to be kissed. It’s mind-blowing.
I relax, feeling the gentle pressure of him while letting his clean and masculine scent infiltrate my body. I sigh into his mouth, and he kisses me harder until I’m lying on my back. I use my heels to dig into the mattress, pushing myself farther up. He slides up the bed with me, our lips never separating. His hand slinks up my leg and over my dress, settling on my ribs.
I like the gentle weight of his chest on mine and the way my tummy tingles as he balances above me. His knees are between mine, nudging them apart to make more room. I should feel weird or awkward because it’s been so long, years in fact, since I’ve been with anyone other than Jim—but I don’t with Charlie—I don’t feel either of those. Instead, his touch comforts me as his mouth cherishes me.
I feel his right thumb run lightly over the side of my breast. Losing more of myself in the moment with each second that passes, I push my body into his hand, wanting the same thing he wants.
A deep groan rumbles through his chest, and his kisses become more intense. He leaves my lips and trails wet kisses over my jaw down to my throat. He works his way to my ear, his breath heavy and hot. “You’re so beautiful.” His words are but a sweet sigh.
His hips press forward, and I can feel how large he is. He thrusts his pelvis into mine, and I arch my back, relishing the sensation.
It’s been too long. I missed this—the butterflies, the excitement and anticipation, the intimacy of being this vulnerable and yet comfortable, with someone. I didn’t feel confident in the beginning of my relationship with Jim, and it makes me note how much I do with Charlie.
He stops after he kisses my shoulder. Maneuvering the strap of my dress to the side, he nibbles at my collarbone.
“Mmmm,” I hum, not meaning to do that aloud, but not caring that I did.
Charlie’s left hand moves under my bottom and squeezes. A giggle escapes when I smile.
“God, I love your laugh.”
He looks up at me, his lashes framing his baby blues, and he smirks. Yep, smirks. I’m weak to a smirk, always have been, but his is especially devilish. My knees fly together, gripping him between them, and I don’t bother letting go.
His hand slides down my thigh before touching the back of my knee. His fingertips draw figure eights before he swerves over my calf muscle to my ankle, pausing on my foot. My shoe is removed and dropped to the floor, the other one following with a thud.
We’re clothed, but I feel so much closer to him already. My heart is open and bare to him, welcoming him. With that realization, my mind is made up. I’m going to enjoy my night and stop worrying about the past.
Chapter 11
Her hands flatten across my chest then she fists my shirt, pulling me to her, wanting more just like I do. I can’t stop my hips from seeking a connection of their own. I have a beautiful woman lying beneath me who is everything I’ve been missing in my life and more, and I don’t want to screw this up. My heart skips a beat every time I look into her pretty blue eyes, so I avoid them, trying to control my emotions.
I groan when our bodies press together. I love the feel of her, but hold myself above her, not wanting my full weight on her slender frame . . . yet. I’m not sure how far she wants to go or how far we should, but something tells me tonight isn’t the night for us to make love. She’s more than tipsy, though not drunk, but even so, I would never want to take advantage of her that way. I saw how she calculated the aftermath of her decision a few moments earlier and how her eyes brightened when she made up her mind. She wants to be here and that makes my heart soar in ways I haven’t felt in a long time.
I kiss her, loving the feel of her lips, the taste of her mixed with hints of beer. I love the way she kisses with passion, as if this is the last kiss she’ll ever give. Little does she know, if she’ll let me, I might want to kiss her forever.
She suddenly pushes me up, sliding her body into a sitting position then swings her legs off the bed. “I’m gonna take my dress off, and since your being dressed like that gets me all hot and bothered, I can only imagine you’re even better without clothes. I want you shirtless and pantsless. That’s only fair, right?”
She’s bold, and damn, that’s attractive.
“Yep,” I say, “that’d be the only fair thing to do.”
I want to rip her clothes off and then my own, but the virtue of patience holds great rewards. So I calm myself despite everything I’m feeling inside. Behind my back, I shake my hands one at a time. I’m not used to these kinds of nerves. Women never make me nervous, and yet this
one . . . she entices me into her world without even trying.
I look her over, my eyes lingering on the curve of her cheek. I worry that if I rush, all of this will happen too fast, and I won’t get to appreciate our time together. One deep breath follows another. “Come here.”
She moves closer. No obvious doubts cloud her eyes. I’m rewarded with a smile when I run my hand up her arm and over her shoulder, caressing the back of her neck before taking the top of the zipper pull and dragging it lower.
“You look incredible in this dress, but I can’t lie and say I’m not looking forward to you out of it.”
Running her hand over my chest, her fingers begin to unbutton my shirt and yank it down my shoulders. She undoes one of my cuffs then the other, and my shirt falls just as her dress does. I take a deep breath when I see her in front of me, all creamy skin dotted lightly with freckles and goose bumps. Her waist curves in, and her stomach is flat but soft.
Her strapless black bra and panties pop against her pale skin. There’s nothing fake about her—just wonderfulness in its natural form. Watching her as I undo my belt, I slip my shoes off and socks, then pull my undershirt up and over my head. I step out of my pants and leave them on the floor. She smiles and giggles as if she’s remembering an inside joke. She’s irresistibly adorable. I grab her, taking her by surprise, and laugh as she squeals.
“Men don’t usually like woman laughing at them when in such a precarious state.” I take her hand in mine and rub her palm up and down my precariousness. That wipes the smile right off her face.
Releasing her hand, I seize the opportunity to watch her as she continues to touch me. I want to drop my head back and close my eyes, letting her work her magic, but my desire for her is stronger. I weave my fingers into her hair and pull her closer, less gently than before, letting need determine our pace. Kissing her abruptly, she melts against me, so I wrap my arms around her waist until she’s steady again. A quick flick of the fingers and her bra clasp is undone.
“Impressive,” she mutters.
