by Jo Leigh
When his fingers slipped between them, he barely had to touch her. A long moment stretched like a tightrope in that unbearably sweet limbo just before the crash, and when it came, when her orgasm tore through her like a bolt of lightning, she cried out and clung to him as if he was the only real thing.
He didn’t let her go, and he didn’t stop. Between her trembling spasms he said her name again and again, and as the pace increased his voice got louder until he filled her so completely she felt him come from the inside.
Finally, he fell beside her, close, and she felt small and tender against his damp body as her gasps slowed. When thought returned as a trickle, everything was perfect and peaceful and nothing else. But the trickle turned into a stream and that brought panic along with clarity.
Oh, God, she’d done it now. Again. She’d made things a million times worse. She should have left while she could have, made a break for it and kept on running. Because they’d made love. The sound of her name in his low voice was imprinted forever. She was a goner.
She rolled away from him and out of the bed, grabbing her dress from the floor. If she was lucky, she could still make a quick getaway and salvage some part of her heart.
His hand on her wrist stopped her.
“I have to go,” she said, her voice quivering and her heart pounding.
“No, please. Wait.” He tugged. “Please.”
She took in a big breath before she faced him. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Charlie, but this was a mistake. You and I both know it. I can’t kid myself anymore. Not after this. I have to stop. Full stop. No working parties with you, no writing sidebars, nothing. I’ve stepped over the line and there’s no road back except the one that takes me far away from you.”
He sat up, never releasing her wrist. “Bree, please. I promise I won’t stop you if you still feel this way after… Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
Bree’s dress wasn’t on, in fact, it just hung from her hand and for a moment she stared at it as if it was something she’d never seen before, but it wasn’t her dress that had her blinking. Things were getting mixed-up again, and she was already so far past the line with Charlie she’d lost all her ground rules. There was no getting around it. She had fallen in love with him. Nothing would fix that except time and distance. But ten minutes? She could risk that, right? But only if she wasn’t naked.
He let go of her, and then she slipped her dress on. Her panties were puddled by the door, but she could get those in a minute. Now, though, she needed to hear what he had to say.
She sat down on the bed, not close, either. If he touched her, there was a very good chance the tiny bit of backbone she’d found would vanish like smoke. “I’m listening.”
He nodded, but then did some maneuvering under the sheet that had become a bundle at the foot of the bed. He dragged out his boxer briefs snagged by his toes, and he smiled with the achievement as he slipped them on.
That little grin didn’t help. It was clear that ten minutes was nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds too long. She should have run when she had the chance.
NOW THAT CHARLIE WAS really going to tell Bree about the plan, there was more than a hint of panic involved. He sat up, bolstered his back with a hastily arranged pillow, then met her gaze. Might as well just dive into the deep end. “Okay. First, I need to ask you a question. Did you have a good time Friday night? When we missed the premiere?”
Still looking a little dumbstruck, she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“Were you happy?”
A flash of pain was there and gone in a breath. “Yes. Very.”
“Me, too.”
Bree looked at him as if he was nuts, and he supposed she was right.
“I was really happy that night,” he said. “I didn’t give a damn about the red carpet or the blog. I wanted to be exactly where I was. With you. I didn’t expect that.”
“That’s…” She floundered for a moment, her hands rising, falling into her lap. “Amazing.”
“You can say that again. I haven’t felt this way about anyone, not for ages—actually, never. I like you so damn much.” It was horrible not to touch her. Wrong. He abandoned his pillow and swung his legs over, scooting inelegantly until they were sitting side by side, touching. Until he had her hand in his. “I haven’t wanted to talk with anyone the way I want to talk with you. Going to parties this week has been a revelation. And working together, well, damn that’s been…”
He lost his train of thought as she blinked up at him, her mouth open in what looked more like shock than confusion. Yet when she straightened her shoulders and leaned away from him, he was the one who was confused.
“I’m glad,” she said. “I am. And maybe in a while I can come back on board, because what you’ve given me… But I have to focus on my goals. Especially now that they’ve changed. I’m not even sure what exactly I want, but I know it’s important to keep my eye on the prize, and not let myself get distracted. And sorry, Charlie, but you’re the biggest distraction ever.”
“No, no. Wait, Bree. Don’t decide yet. ’Cause I’m talking about change, too. For the better, I hope. Look, the last thing on earth I’d ever want is to sideline your dreams. I believe in you. You’re a talented writer, and you have an eye for detail and fashion. You’ll be successful no matter what you decide you want to do, and a big part of what I want to do is support you in any way I can.”
She exhaled a big breath. “Okay…”
“I’ve decided to step down as editor of NNY.”
“What?”
He grinned at how loudly the word echoed in the moonlit bedroom. “It’s time to take on some new challenges. That don’t involve celebrities or supermodels or fashion shows. I have no idea what that’ll look like. Just that it won’t be what it has been.”
“Oh,” she said again, and he could practically see her mind struggling to make sense of what he was telling her, rearranging everything she knew about him. Hell, throwing it all out the window.
He brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. He wanted her to say yes so badly. “We’re good together. We are. We fit. I want to explore that. Together. While we both find out where we belong individually. Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”
BREE THOUGHT ABOUT pinching herself. But when she looked at his eyes she believed him. He loved her.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said.
He laughed. “Yeah.”
“You love me? Me?”
Charlie nodded. “Not sure I’ll be any good at it. You know, first time and all.”
She swallowed as she struggled to appear as if she wasn’t freaking out. “That’s okay. You’re pretty good at everything else. I imagine you’ll pick it up quickly.”
“Thanks,” he said.
It was her turn to touch, to run her hand up his arm before she caressed his cheek. That helped a lot. She’d needed grounding and the feel of him was familiar and lovely. “Are you sure about this? Really sure?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m in.”
“This is insane. This isn’t even a life I could have imagined, and when I was seven I wanted to be a unicorn.”
He laughed as he pulled her close, as his lips captured hers and she could taste his grin and his excitement. She was ten feet off the ground, in the arms of the soon-to-be-abdicating King of Manhattan, and the hell with a unicorn. She was Bree, and she wouldn’t trade that for the world.
She thought about her friends at the St. Marks lunch exchange, and how they were all so hopeful and scared when they picked up a trading card. She couldn’t wait to tell them not to give up. Ever. Anything was possible. Anything.
The Next Day…
Huffpost Entertainment: CHARLIE WINSLOW QUITS!
New York Post: Today in Page Six…No More Naked New York?
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Charlie Winslow
Editor in Chief/CEO Naked New York Media Group
Studied Business/M
arketing at Harvard University
Lives in Manhattan ♥ In a Relationship
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459220478
Copyright © 2012 by Jolie Kramer
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