Disorderly Conduct

by Tessa Bailey

  “I-I like it.”

  “Guess that makes one of us.” I release him with a shove in the direction of the staircase. “You’ve got ten seconds to hit the street before I change my mind about letting you off with a warning. One . . . two . . .”

  He stands there looking dumbfounded for a few counts before throwing a final longing glance at the apartment door and taking off, calling me some pretty creative names under his breath. I scoop up the keys, tucking them into my pocket, and wait until I hear the downstairs door slam. To be honest, I’m disappointed he didn’t protest a little more, because my blood is buzzing like a pissed-off swarm of bees.

  It doesn’t help when I walk back into the apartment, finding the girls crowded by the slightly open door. Nina looks relieved, patting me on the shoulder. But Ever . . .

  She backs up a few feet, her face flushed, pupils dilated . . . and I know that look. I counted on that look for months. It says, you’re about to get laid so hard. God, I want it. Want her. Need her. The need doesn’t care that I’m supposed to be resisting her at all costs, though. And I have serious fucking doubts about my willpower to resist.

  Chapter 20

  Ever

  Sweet Mother Mary.

  I’m not into stroking men’s egos. I am not a damsel in distress. Seriously, if Nina’s ex had walked through the door and tried to hurt my friend, I would have shanked that fool. No hesitation. I don’t need a man to fight my battles for me. But damn if my ovaries aren’t lit up like the New York skyline on New Year’s Eve. I’m not just burning up with lady fever because Charlie manhandled that jerk in the hallway and sent him running with his tail between his legs. No, it’s a combination of that, his comforting manner with Nina and the way he rushed us out of Webster Hall tonight. Whether I like it or not, Charlie was a certified knight in shining armor, and I want to . . . reward him. I want to reward him good. From here until next Tuesday.

  It’s not wise. At all. I’m in love with Charlie Burns and he’s made it clear, in so many ways, that he’s not available. When we were dancing tonight, I felt him holding back. Trying to keep a separation between us. Even now, his gaze rakes over me, burning hot, but hesitant. Wary. I’m so lost here. I need him, I miss him, but I know I’ll be continually devastated every time he leaves. When I told him I wanted something real, I meant it. Something real isn’t possible with Charlie. But is something real possible with anyone else but him?

  “I’m going to give you two a minute,” Nina says, backing toward her bedroom. “I’ll hear the locksmith when he knocks.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie responds, his voice like gravel as he digs out the keys from his pocket. He tosses them on the counter without looking. “Those are his keys, but let’s get the cylinder changed, anyway, on the off chance he made a copy, all right?”

  How dare he be this capable? I think that’s how I’m staring at him. Like I’m pissed at him for being so competent. “You okay, Nina?” I ask, sounding breathless.

  “Oh, after that?” Her laugh follows her into the bedroom. “I’m walking on air.”

  When the door closes behind my roommate, it’s like a powder keg goes off between Charlie and me, sparks, smoke, internal booms. We edge closer on the balls of our feet, both of us breathing like we just ran up eight flights of stairs. “Ever.” His voice is hoarse. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  I just want to hear him describe anything in that tone. “Like what?”

  “Don’t do this to me. It isn’t fair to either of us.” Expression agonized, he points to the kitchen counter. “I’m not leaving you like that again.”

  “Then stay.” The words are out before I can put the kibosh on them. And I don’t want to take them back, because this is it. I love this man and I have to take a shot. This is the moment I’ve been given, and I can’t let it slip away without trying. “Stay one time. It probably won’t work. Or maybe it won’t be so bad.”

  An eyebrow lifts. “You ever think of going into sales?”

  I don’t answer. I just wait there, in that nonspace between the entry and the living room, which is fitting, since we are neither here nor there. Charlie rolls his tongue around his mouth, hands propped on his hips, like I just asked him to join me in a hot air balloon to China. He’s going to say no. There’s already a gaping wound in my stomach where his answer will settle, my intestines wrapping around it, welcoming it as a permanent part of my landscape. So I jump the gun, because I can’t stand to hear him decline. What was I thinking, anyway? Bad idea. Such a stupid idea.

  I force my mouth into a smile. “God, Charlie. You look like you’re trapped in a nightmare.” My throat is raw as I slip past him and open the door. “Thanks for everything tonight—you were truly heroic. I must really need some sleep or I wouldn’t have asked you to—”

  “Ever.”

  “We have a job tomorrow, which means vodka was probably a bad choice.” I curve a hand around his elbow and attempt to guide him through the open door. “Good night, Charlie.”

  “You just asked me to stay the night, now you’re throwing me out?” A line forms between his eyebrows, and he presses the door closed. “I just needed a minute to think.”

  “About what?”

  Why am I whispering? I don’t have time to consider it, because Charlie saunters into my space. Right up into my zone. Until the tips of his boots nudge my bare toes. “Making love to you. That’s what I’m thinking about.” He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and I swear, I almost faint. “Not fucking. Not this time. So when I leave in the morning, Ever, you’ll know it’s always been more with you.”

  “Oh.” Still whispering. “Well . . . think away.”

  His lips twitch, then the room tilts, because Charlie is carrying me toward my bedroom. My bedroom. We’re going inside for the first time. I don’t even know if it’s clean enough, but after a slight hesitation on the threshold, we walk inside and I’m relieved to see it’s decent. Still holding me against his solid chest, Charlie turns in a circle, kicking the door shut behind him. His blue eyes seem to light on everything at once, cataloguing my knick-knacks, memorizing pictures and perfume bottles and the pictures of exotic vacation ideas pinned to my wall.

  His attention lands back on me, dark and hot, as he allows me to slide to the floor. My breath hitches in and out as I pad over to the iPhone dock sitting in my windowsill and turn on some music. “Roses” by The Chainsmokers is the last song I listened to and the singer’s voice drifts into the room now, dreamlike and smoky. In the window’s reflection, I watch Charlie approach me from behind, dragging the T-shirt over his head, his gaze so focused on me, I can’t imagine living in a time where he’d left. Or never been here at all.

  His palms slide over my hips, thumbs digging in with delicious pressure, that mouth of his finding the Promised Land behind my ear. Making love. He said we’re going to make love. That doesn’t mean he loves me, though.

  Charlie’s tongue swirls at the back of my neck and drags higher, up my nape. “What exactly does making love . . . entail?” I ask.

  A puff of his breath inspires goosebumps all over my flesh. “We’re going to have to find out together, cutie.” His hands catch in the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head, barely breaking in his relentless torture of my neck as he bares me from the waist up. “A lot of kissing, I think. Slowing down to catch our breath once in a while, instead of racing each other to the end.” I feel his lips quirk in my hair. “Gazing into one another’s eyes.”

  My ribs ache from trying to subdue my laughter. “That sounds horrible.”

  He palms my breasts, squeezing them lightly, then harder. “We’ll figure out our own way.” Finally, his lap pushes against my backside and we both moan, grinding our lower bodies together, slow, but firm. “Your little ‘Jenny from the Block’ dance made me stiff as a board tonight. Safe to say you redeemed yourself for that talent show.”

  I half laugh, half gasp, the muscles between my legs contracting, wetness dampening my thong. “
Just because we’re making love . . . does that mean I can’t put you in my mouth?” I slide a hand back between our bodies, rubbing his erection through the rough denim. “Seems only fair, since it’s my fault.”

  “Like I said,” Charlie groans into my ear. “We’ll figure out our own way.”

  The way we move, it’s fluid and frantic, all at once. Charlie spins me around and I drop to my knees, both of us working on his zipper. I haven’t given him head in weeks, but he’s not the only one who has suffered the loss. Oh no. Charlie doesn’t kick back and enjoy the show. He flat out loses his mind when I go down on him, like he’s a virgin freshman getting sucked off by a high school senior. It’s why I love doing it. Love licking his plump, smooth head and watching his thighs start to tremble, the way they’re doing now. The veins on his lower abdomen grow prominent, his stomach heaving, choked noises falling out of his mouth. It’s heaven.

  “Put your hands on my head, Charlie,” I murmur. “Hold tight.”

  He releases a string of gibberish, but does what I ask and holds his breath.

  I rake my teeth up the inside of his strong, hair-dusted thigh. “You have five minutes to do whatever you want with my mouth. Don’t hold back.”

  A strangled laugh from above. “You think I can last five minutes in your mouth? That’s pretty cute.” Our eyes meet as I circle his tip with my tongue. “You’ve been watching too much porn, Ever?”

  I know what he’s thinking about, just from the way he tilts his head. As if he’s issuing a reprimand. And oh boy, from down on my knees, it’s really working for me.

  “Yeah, I know what you watch when I’m not around.” His right hand leaves my head, sliding around the base of his erection. Gripping. And everything south of my belly button clenches when he strokes, strokes, strokes. A feast right in front of my eyes. “Love that, don’t you?” He grunts. “You said anything I want? Good. Wrap your little mouth around it and taste me jerking off.”

  As if I’m not diving forward to follow his instructions—which coincide perfectly with my fantasies—Charlie uses his hold on my hair to guide me, to hold me in place while he chokes his flesh, squeezing the root and dragging his grip toward my mouth. Faster, faster. Because this is Charlie, though, and Charlie can’t maintain his composure while I’m pleasuring him from my knees, he lets go after a dozen strokes, in favor of thrusting into my mouth. He knows he can. Knows I love it.

  His fingers tangle in my hair, a sheen of sweat beginning to form on his chest and abs, his flesh elongating and pulsing on my tongue. God, he’s hotter than sin. I can’t handle it. The seam of my shorts is drenched and I want them off, I want him inside me so bad, I’m moaning as he pushes deep into my throat, growling my name from above.

  “Ever. Ever. Baby. Cutie. Stopstopstopstopstop.” He draws my mouth away, which makes a popping sound—another weakness of his—and he’s helpless against sinking past my lips with a roll of his hips. His head falls back, chin dropping, thighs trembling, sweat rolling down his chest. “Little more, little more. Fuuuuuuck. Please don’t let me come. It hurts. Lick my cock and taste how bad. Get a good taste of how you make it hurt. Need to fuck. Need to come.”

  Those words signal his breaking point. We trust one another not to push past that invisible marker, so I sit back, watching his wet inches strain against his thigh. Charlie scoops me up from beneath my arms, takes a few steps and throws me on the bed, which normally would have made me die laughing, but there’s nothing funny about the way he stalks me. It’s not just lust bathing his expression, either, it’s something heavier, but elusive.

  He kneels between my legs, and I only have a split second to appreciate his dewy muscles, the boy-next-door-who-got-in-a-fist-fight beauty, before the shorts are ripped down past my ankles. They remain hooked on one of Charlie’s fingers as he holds them up, his expression the epitome of disapproval. “These are not an appropriate choice when a locksmith is coming over.” He tosses them over his shoulder. “Save the sanity of the male population and start shopping in the big girl section, huh, cutie?”

  Chapter 21

  Charlie

  Yeah. I barely got away with that one.

  When a woman kneels and gives a man carte blanche with her mouth, it takes him a few minutes to come down, though, so sue me. Because she’s Ever and she understands I’m not a complete asshole, she only gives me a lazy middle finger and stretches out on the bed like a cat. She throws her arms up over her head and arches her back, giving me the view of the century. Her pussy is barely covered by a peach-colored thong, with a little white bow on the super-low waistline. Those sugar-flavored tits are out. I could drag her under me, shove those pretty panties to one side and fuck her until she starts screaming for divine intervention. God knows my cock is begging for its usual rough, filthy, pounding session.

  Whatever this feeling is inside me, though? This full, crowded, choking feeling? It’s asking for something else.

  It knows Ever needs more, so there’s no option but to give it to her. Maybe it’s danger that has me strangled right now by her beauty. Not just her body, which, let’s face it, is an eleven. But it’s the way she watches me, as if she’s reading my thoughts and doesn’t find fault with a single one. She knows not only me . . . but she knows us. She knows us together. That’s the danger. I’ve found someone who could be my other half. I’m going to make love to her. And I have no idea what comes afterward anymore.

  Ever pushes up on one elbow, blonde hair draping across one shoulder. “Charlie,” she breathes, her eyes feverish. “I need you.”

  “Fuck, I need you, too,” I say, all pretenses dropped. There’s no place for them between Ever and me. Not here in the dark when we’re in a bed together for the first time and my heart is tapping out Morse code at warp speed. I hook a finger in her thong and slide it down, down, licking my lips at the sight of her naked pussy, all slick and ready. Ready to take her man. There’s a little freckle on her stomach I never noticed before and following instinct, I lean down to kiss it now, sliding my tongue into the hoop of her belly button ring for good measure. Tugging just a little. Listening to her gasp, while I roll the condom down to the root of my dick. “Christ.” I shake my head, letting every thought in my head tumble out. “I can still see you running away from me tonight.” It’s there every time I close my eyes. The reminder has me looming over Ever, taking her arms and securing them above her head. “Someone bumped into you and you stumbled . . . and then I couldn’t see you anymore.”

  “You were angry with me,” she breathes, her toes sliding up and down my calves. “Maybe you shouldn’t think about it right now, since you’re supposed to be making love to me.”

  I lean down close and nip her bottom lip, making her gasp. “Maybe we make angry love.”

  “That doesn’t sound like us.”

  Us. A wrench twists in my chest. Why do I keep seeing her disappearing into the crowd? Over and over. What if I’d never met her? Never became friends with her? No one would have texted me tonight. I wouldn’t even have known she was in trouble. I’m setting myself up for a lifetime of not knowing what happens to Ever.

  I shove my face into her neck and inhale, trying to break free of my dark thoughts, but they won’t go. My frustration is manifesting itself in my bones, my throat, the dead center of my stomach. “No one is going to call me next time, goddammit, are they?” Not giving her a chance to answer, I bare my teeth against her lips and they open for me. The taste of her knocks me back into the light . . . until I realize I’m trying to get my fill. Get my fill of Ever. And that becomes my quest, in that moment. Store up enough of this insane way she makes me feel, so I can survive on the fumes as long as possible.

  My body moves all on its own, dragging up and down her curves. We’re synced flesh, rippling like an ocean current, her knees writhing like waves on either side of my hips. I’m not even inside her yet, and we’re moving like I’m balls deep. Yes. It’s not dry humping, because Jesus fuck, she’s drenched and getting that
wetness all over me.

  “First time you let me bring you home, I couldn’t believe you were real,” I groan, my head tipped forward over her bouncing tits. “Still don’t. Still can’t. You know how I’m going to move before I get there. How do you do it?”

  “M-me? I thought it was you.” We breathe a laugh into one another’s mouth . . . and ten tons of emotion slams into me. I miss her. How do I miss her when she’s close as another human being can possibly get? I need an outlet, I need the next thing, or I’m going to swallow her whole. Gathering her legs up around my waist, I punch my hips and drive the full way into Ever’s tight pussy with one thrust. “Charlie.”

  “God. God, Ever.” I flex my ass, pushing, trying to find a corner of her I haven’t yet occupied, but I’ve got her crammed full. Every time I move, she whimpers and spreads her legs wider, my ultimate fantasy. Except every single moment we’ve been together like this, she’s gotten better and my imagination can’t compete anymore. It was laughable, this idea that we could make love. The base of my spine is splintering, spasming with the need to bury myself in her, again and again. A hard, slapping pace that we’ll both race to keep up with.

  No. No, I promised her something better. How, though. How? I don’t know the first thing about making Ever feel special. Which is why I shouldn’t have chased her in the first place, after she decided to move forward with her life. I was so goddamn selfish, but I couldn’t help myself. She’s . . . Ever.

  Her fingers lace through my hair, her walls tighten around my cock and I’m drowning in the urge to claim her, while battling the responsibility to honor her in some way. The way I should have been doing all along. “Charlie.” She shhh’s against my mouth. “Everything is going to be fine. Just kiss me slow.”

  I’m not sure I can manage to feel her tongue and go anything but fast, but she opens her lips, squeezes my hair in two fists . . . and slants my head, directs me. She’s saving me. A life preserver in a storm. I’ve been in this storm for days—I was barely surviving until now. But what about tomorrow?