Lowering his head, he breathed in her floral fragrance and closed his eyes.
“Baby girl, you destroy me,” he whispered against her lips. “You have to tell me if you don’t want this, because I’m holding on by a thread.”
“Then let go,” she whispered in reply, and when he opened his eyes he saw nothing but mirrored desire. That frayed thread snapped in two, and he nearly growled as fierce need detonated in his veins. The devil himself couldn’t stop him from taking a taste.
He stroked his lips over hers, promising himself that was all it would be, one taste, and it was perfect, like a dusting of sugar. But then her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, catching his in the process, and he was done for. He swooped in to steal a second, and was rewarded by a soft pant of a sigh. Music to his ears.
The summer air sat heavy on his shoulders, smelling faintly of barbecue, but the flavor on his tongue was pure Arabella. He groaned at her sugar-spun sweetness, wanting to get drunk on her even as he told himself to stand down. This couldn’t go on any further than a kiss; they were already on shaky ground.
But then her shy little tongue got in the mix, flicking across his bottom lip and inspiring visions of him grabbing her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and pressing her hard against the patio wall. Instead, he settled on plunging his tongue into the cavern of her mouth, and nearly let out a caveman roar when she clutched his shoulders in a moan.
Spearing his hand through Arabella’s hair, Charlie tilted her head to give him better access. The heat of her body bled through the cotton of his shirt, and he damned the fabric for separating him from her skin. His chest tingled, remembering how she’d felt sliding and grazing against him during their water play, and he wrapped his arm around her, clutching her tightly. He couldn’t get close enough.
Slow it down, an inner voice warned, but he stuffed that shit away. He knew exactly where he was, who he was kissing, and that this was all he’d ever get, a stolen kiss, so Charlie had every intention of making it count. Warning bells be damned.
“Charlie…” Arabella breathed his name as her head fell back, and his mouth plundered the graceful column of her throat. Satisfaction tore down his spine, and hell if the sound of his name on her lips didn’t turn him on even more.
Her short nails dug into his back, bunching the fabric of his shirt in her fists, and Charlie reached back with one hand to rip it over his head. When her warm skin finally pressed against his own, they shared a hiss.
“Tell me what you want,” he said between nips, sucks, and licks along her neck. He ducked lower and ran his tongue along the sexy indention of her collarbone. “You want me to stop?”
“No. God, no.” She clutched at his shoulders like she’d sink to the ground if he didn’t support her, and Charlie slid his knee between her thighs. Better to hold her up. But then she sank down and ground against him, and stars flashed behind his eyes. “I-I just…holy hell, you feel so good.”
No man in the history of the world could stop after that. Not happening. Not that Charlie ever wanted to, which was probably why he should’ve.
This wasn’t him. He didn’t lose control in public, with a hundred friends and neighbors fifty scant yards away. He didn’t seduce kind women who deserved better. And he definitely didn’t let himself wonder what it would be like to hear the same soft voice whispering his name over and over with the knowledge that she was his.
But dammit if he wasn’t doing all three right now.
A low hum, followed by a sharp screech of feedback, and Cane’s voice floating over speakers cut through the thick haze of desire. Charlie’s hand stilled on Arabella’s bathing suit strap. As their host went on beyond the fence, thanking everyone for coming to the party, Charlie drew a deep breath and inhaled a sobering dose of clarity.
What in the hell was happening? Had he seriously been about to tear off her clothes out here in the open? And, if not, where else did he think this would lead? That hadn’t been a simple taste…he’d very nearly devoured her. As it was, her eyes were glassy, her lips kiss-swollen, and pink marks from his scruff marred her perfect skin. From the confused way her eyes were locked on his, Charlie knew he wouldn’t have been the one paying the price for their mistake, either. It’d be Arabella.
Arabella, who saw the good in everyone. Arabella, who smiled at sunrays and called them glimpses of heaven. The woman who cooked him meals, and kicked his ass at video games, and worked tirelessly for his foundation. His tenant, his coworker, his friend…and his boss’s daughter. The woman who still didn’t know the whole truth.
Breathing hard, Charlie fought for control as he pressed his forehead against hers. Arabella’s eyes shifted back and forth between each of his and her soft hands coasted across the strained muscles of his back, trying to soothe him. Christ. Wasn’t that the true picture of their situation? There he stood, threatening to destroy her heart and her future because he certainly couldn’t offer her one, not while out on the road, and she was comforting him.
If that wasn’t a sign of how unworthy he was of her, he didn’t know what was.
But as much of a mistake as the kiss had been, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not while he still held her in his arms, and probably not ever. But it couldn’t happen again, either.
The two of them were nothing but a runaway train headed straight to ruin, and that’s what a relationship with him and the resulting media circus would do to this amazing woman. Ruin her.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was laced with concern, but her face told the true story. It was pinched tight, eyes narrowed and filled with insecurity, and if it was possible, he felt like an even bigger ass than before. This beautiful creature had no clue how incredible she was, and he refused to let her think anything about this was on her.
“Nothing,” Charlie told her, standing tall and softly running his hands down her arms. “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl. This is on me. I got carried away.” She bit the corner of her swollen lip, and the need to mimic the gesture propelled him to add, “This can’t happen again.”
“Can’t?” she asked, swallowing visibly. “Or won’t?”
“Both.” He gave her a halfhearted smile. “I’m your boss at Strange Wheel, Arabella. My boss happens to be your dad. And you’re also my tenant for the summer. All around this is just a bad idea.”
Hurt flashed in her wide brown eyes, and the slight sheen of tears had panic filling his chest. Quickly, he cupped her pretty face between his palms. “I won’t treat you like one of my girls, Arabella. I respect you too much.”
She bit the corner of her lip, nodding but clearly not believing, and desperation clawed his chest. He had to make her see she was better off without him. “Don’t misunderstand. I want you bad, baby, but you’re good. So damn good. You deserve more than a sweaty night in my bed, and that’s all I can offer you. All I can offer anyone.”
Maybe it wouldn’t be if he weren’t a musician who spent half his life on the road. Maybe then they could’ve seen where this attraction led. But then, Charlie being a musician was how they met in the first place, and constant travel came with the job. After what had happened with Abby, he refused to leave behind anyone else who counted on him.
Charlie stared into her eyes, begging her to understand, and praying to God that those tears never fell because if they did, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Any woman crying would hit him hard, but a woman he was falling for—?
Whoa. He stopped the thought short with a jerk. Falling for? That wasn’t what this was. Crazy attraction, obviously. True respect and needed friendship, definitely. But love had nothing to do with it. Charlie doubted he was capable of the emotion. He’d seen the real thing up close with his parents and his sisters’ marriages, and he honestly didn’t know if he had that kind of commitment in him beyond the band. And Arabella was not the type of woman you experimented on.
After a long, drawn-out moment of Charlie desperately wishing he could read women’s minds, sh
e finally gave him a small smile. It didn’t reach her now-dry eyes, but at this point, he’d take it.
“I understand.” She took a deep breath and let it out again. “Friendship is better anyway.”
Charlie wasn’t so sure he agreed with the better part—maybe for her—but then Arabella’s smile widened, and a tiny crescent-shaped dimple appeared in her cheek. It was like the sun had reappeared.
“What?” he asked, shaking his head slightly.
She touched her lips with her fingertips. “I guess I can cross another item from the list.”
He raised an eyebrow, astounded by her ability to recall anything of importance in this moment. His brain was a pile of mush. “Oh yeah? Which one?”
She glanced at his mouth. “Experiencing an epic, toe-curling kiss.”
Pride ripped through him, knowing that he’d given her that, and the joy, amusement, and yes, lingering heat in her gaze had him seriously considering the potential fallout of an encore. Just to make sure the item was truly crossed off. But in the end, it was the unlikelihood of being able to stop once he got his lips on hers again that kept him from suggesting it.
But toe-curling kiss? Consider his digits twisted.
Chapter Fifteen
The back of Arabella’s knee itched. Her left butt cheek was twitching, too, from standing still for so long, but she didn’t dare change her position. In fact, she barely breathed. Her living room was bathed in darkness, save for a lone lamp in the corner, and her face was pressed against the blinds as her shaking fingers held two slats the tiniest bit apart. Any wider and she feared she’d give away her location.
And now she sounded like a Bond girl.
Charlie was in his old, restored truck, parked by the curb in the same place he’d been for the last five minutes. The shadowed figure in the passenger seat really could’ve been anyone. Nate or Miles. One of the guys from the studio. Maybe even another relative from Tennessee. But she knew—knew it like she knew spicy food gave her heartburn—that another woman was holding his attention. And just as Ella ate the spicy food anyway, knowing full well the damage it would do to her insides, she remained at the window, watching. Needing to confirm the painful truth that sat lodged like a lump in her throat.
She wasn’t enough.
Two days had passed since the Fourth of July, two days of reliving the kiss to end all kisses. Charlie had done his job well, curling her toes and proving all those country love songs weren’t total hogwash. She’d been forever altered because of that kiss.
Turned out, Charlie wasn’t nearly the out-of-control playboy the tabloids proclaimed. His frequent moments of quiet reflection, the occasional bouts of brooding that shifted to an almost impish playfulness, rounded out his rough edges and smoothed them to a shine. His intense loyalty, his hidden philanthropy, and his secret skill in caretaking proved he was more than she or anyone else ever thought.
Once upon a time, Arabella had fancied herself in love with Charlie Tucker, but that had been a superficial crush on an image. A false one at that. Now, Arabella knew the real Charlie, and she could no longer claim to be infatuated with or even falling for her favorite bassist. Nope, she was completely in love with him.
Only thing was, Charlie wasn’t in love with her. In fact, he’d been avoiding her.
Stupidly, Arabella had thought they’d reached a turning point after the kiss. In a morbid way, she’d understood where he came from and had even been grateful for his honesty. Afterward, as they’d swam together, fully clothed this time, beneath the stars and explosion of fireworks, she’d felt strangely honored that he valued their relationship as highly as she did. Friendship wasn’t better, like she’d so lamely suggested, but it was special.
Right now, though, Arabella didn’t feel special. She felt devastated.
In the month and a half they’d lived side by side, Charlie had never once brought another woman home. He’d ignored their constant texts, didn’t make or accept any calls, and he’d skirted any topic that could lead to a discussion of his love life. Most importantly, he’d never once been cruel.
So why invite another woman home tonight? Two days after their kiss? Was he trying to hurt her or prove some kind of point? Obviously, she’d known he wasn’t a monk; Charlie was a gorgeous man with a healthy libido. He’d never once tried to hide or deny his past exploits, and she hadn’t expected him to change his spots because she’d moved in next door. She’d just assumed he’d keep his liaisons discreet. Bringing another woman here now, where he had to know she would hear, felt purposeful.
The slam of the truck door caused Ella to jump and her fingers slipped on the blinds.
Crap.
This was what she’d been waiting for. She needed to see who he was with and what he’d do next, but she was terrified to move the blinds again. Had Charlie seen them shift with her jump? Did he know she was being a total creeper?
The interior lights were off with only the small glow of a lamp behind her, but Charlie had left his front porch light on. That plus the overly efficient streetlights gave enough illumination for him to clearly see her if he looked closely enough.
A second door opened and closed, followed by a female voice, and Arabella’s heart sank into her stomach. But her curiosity got the best of her. Hearing wouldn’t be enough. She had to see them together, had to confirm it with her own eyes.
Steeling herself for the final blow, Arabella inhaled deeply and slowly drew the blinds apart. Luckily, Charlie wasn’t watching her side of the duplex. In fact, he wasn’t looking at the house at all. Instead, he was staring a hole into the ground as he trudged up the pine-needle-dusted drive, one hand anxiously twirling his keys, and the other slung around a tall, curvy blonde.
Why was he anxious? Arabella swallowed hard. And who was the woman?
The blonde was also oblivious to Ella’s presence. She was preoccupied with chattering away at Charlie’s side, her high-pitched voice and overly made-up face so unlike what Arabella would’ve pictured. True, she’d seen the photos online and knew that he’d once loved the blonde-bombshell look, but having gotten to know Charlie this summer, it wasn’t at all what he needed.
Charlie deserved to have a sweet woman by his side, someone he could spoil with his surprisingly chivalrous tendencies. Someone genuine and real, who listened as much as she spoke. This woman had yet to stop to take a breath, not even a pause to let Charlie grunt in agreement.
When they came to a stop at his front door, Charlie’s gaze shot to her window. Ella gasped as she quickly leaned away, careful this time not to sway or drop the blinds.
Had he seen her? Her heart thundered beneath her nightgown. They were standing so close that all it would take was one small movement, or one glance too long, and he’d know that she was spying. Even if that had been his intention, for her to see him moving on and forgetting their kiss, she refused to give him the satisfaction.
All remained quiet until she heard the woman ask, “Are we doing this or not?”
Arabella squeezed her eyes shut. She’d gotten her answer, and now she wanted to run as far away as she could. But running wasn’t an option. If she bolted, the shifting blinds would give her away, which left her standing there, listening and hoping like crazy that Charlie said “no.”
When she didn’t hear any response at all, Ella’s fears won out. Her good sense fled the scene and she shifted forward again, peering out through the window.
Charlie’s keys were in the lock. The blonde’s hands were on his chest, her lip snagged between her teeth as she gazed up at him in adoration. Arabella knew the expression, as she’d worn it often herself. But what hurt was Charlie…his hands wrapped around the woman’s elbows, his hooded eyes glued to her lips.
Pain lashed her chest as the flames of jealousy and shame licked her insides, charring them to a crisp. A choked whimper threatened to escape, but she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep the lustful couple from hearing her agony.
Then the woman closed the
small distance and pressed her body firmly against his in a move so confident that it tore the last shred of hope Ella had. That daring woman in Charlie’s arms would never be her. In more ways than one.
Having seen more than enough, Arabella turned away and let the blinds drop from her fingers. She didn’t give a damn if Charlie saw her or not.
…
This is a mistake.
Charlie had never felt more self-loathing than he did in that moment, and that was saying a hell of a lot since his life was one fuckup after another. As Stacy—or was it Sarah?—fisted her hands in his shirt and pressed her mouth hungrily against his, that was all that it was. A mouth. Two pairs of lips, an annoying swipe of tongue, and remorse.
Damn, he hoped Arabella was asleep, or snuggled deep in that fuzzy blanket of hers. If she saw this juvenile display she’d probably hate him. Hell, he hated himself. There were no words for this new level of idiocy.
Lifting his head, Charlie held himself beyond the woman’s touch and watched as she lazily opened her eyes. He’d asked her out searching for answers, and, well, he’d gotten one.
“This isn’t gonna happen.”
Stacy/Sarah’s eyebrow furrowed, clearly unfamiliar with being turned down, and he could see why. She had a hot body and a pretty face. She obviously loved the sound of her own voice, but some guys liked that sort of thing. It kept them from having to say shit.
But Charlie actually liked conversation. The blonde’s wisp of a dress had nothing on Arabella’s retro numbers. And honestly, he had zero interest in inviting this woman inside. It was beyond time to call it a night.
He gave her a small, regretful smile. It wasn’t this woman’s fault his head was a mess. He’d been determined to prove the kiss with Arabella hadn’t meant anything, that the calm feeling that entered his chest whenever she was near was harmless. Now, he only felt exhausted.
“I’m sorry I led you on,” Charlie said, in as gentle a voice as he could muster. “You’re an incredible girl, but my heart’s just not in it. I think it’s best I take you home.”
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