A pack of teenagers passed by, mixed boys and girls, which meant hormones and hubris in lethal combination.
“Jeez, get a room,” one of them hollered, followed by the snickers and guffaws of the rest of the group. He turned, shielding her from their sight, their contempt.
Charlie laughed. “Daniel, they’re only words, and from a bunch of people I’ll never see again.” She stroked his face, her hand lingering on his jaw. “They can’t hurt me. Not anymore.”
He inhaled, his breath bottoming out in his lungs. “I have one.”
A pucker appeared between her brows. “One what?”
“A room.” Now all the air seemed to have fled his chest, and he had to force his voice out of a vacuum. “A hotel room. Downtown. The Heathman.”
She smiled, but her lips trembled. “Swanky.” She pushed her hair back from her face, revealing a glint of silver at her earlobes.
He swallowed, wishing now for that last sip of root beer. “Will you…would you go there with me? Stay with me? Tonight?”
“I—”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” He kissed that tiny forehead pucker, smoothed it with his thumb until it disappeared. Kissed along the gull-wing swoop of her eyebrows. Captured her mouth in a chaste kiss. Just a promise. An invitation. “But I would love it if you said yes this time.”
Her eyes were huge and dark in the glow of the streetlamps. Under his hands, he felt the shiver race across her skin, down her spine.
“Daniel. I…if you…” She glanced away briefly before dipping her chin in a tiny nod. “Yes.”
…
All the way down Jefferson to Broadway, Daniel held Charlie’s hand. She didn’t draw away when he laced his fingers with hers. Her shoulder rested against his biceps, a tease of bare skin just above his elbow where the sleeve of her T-shirt ended. He’d checked in before he picked her up so all they had to do was take the elevator to his floor. He didn’t jump her on the ride up like he had in Hana K’s hallway. This time, he could wait.
Instead, he played with her hand, stroking his fingers over her palm just to see the way her breath caught in her chest, her face flushed with pink. The rose along her cheekbones should have clashed with her hair, but it didn’t.
All the quirky, traditionally imperfect parts of her combined to make one perfect whole. Without the crazy curls, without the too-wide mouth, without the forceful nose and the eyes neither brown nor gold but somewhere in the middle, she wouldn’t be Charlie.
Then there was the new equipment. The soft slope of her waist into the curve of her hip, the length of her legs, breasts that short-circuited his brain. Bonus.
But the mind behind those sherry-colored eyes, sharp and incisive and as quick to catch the ridiculous as the beautiful. That was pure Charlie. That hadn’t changed.
He traced her jaw with his thumb. “Charlie. I need to know. Have you been with anyone before?”
Her flush deepened. “I told you about Preston. We knew what parts went where and managed to get them there.”
“How long has it been?”
Charlie gulped and ducked her head. “Four years.”
Christ, she might as well be a virgin, especially if Procedural Boyfriend bypassed the foreplay subroutine.
It was on him to make this good for her. For both of them.
“Are you sure about this, Daniel?” She rested both hands on his chest, her palms warm through his shirt, her gaze searching his face. “I mean, you don’t really know me.”
He covered her hands with one of his. “Sweetheart, nobody knows you better than I do. We laid the groundwork for this relationship in grade school. It just took us a while to find our way back.” He stroked her hair, wound a curl around his finger. “So I’m absolutely sure. But I’m not going anywhere. If you want to wait, we wait. You get to call the shots now.”
She shook her head as the elevator doors slid open. “Tonight, I don’t want to be the one making the decisions, choosing which path is most logical. I don’t want to think. For once, I just want to feel.”
A wave of heat washed up Daniel’s chest and left his heart racing. He laced his fingers with hers and led her out of the elevator. “I can handle that.”
Chapter Fifteen
Geekronym: LU/PU
Translation: Logical unit/Physical unit
Definition: A physical unit identifies a network node (hardware) that supports communication sessions between logical units (end users); communication between two logical units depends on connections being established through associated physical units.
Charlie’s pulse beat in her ears, in her temples, in her pelvis, everywhere but her chest, which seemed to be empty.
If only they’d been magically teleported to the hotel room from their spot on the waterfront. Daniel’s kisses, his hands on her back, on her face. It had seemed so simple then, so inevitable. As if VR-Charlie and real-life Daniel had plummeted through a time vortex, skipped over their unfortunate teenage encounters, and vaulted over the last empty years. But during the walk to the hotel, as they jostled their way through the crowds, and in the ride up the elevator, it hit her.
She was here to have sex with Daniel Shawn. There was no other reason. No mitigating circumstance or rationalization. Who checked into a hotel to play Star Trek trivia? Nobody.
She’d finally arrived at the end of the Daniel decision tree. If she wanted to abend, she could still do it. Daniel wouldn’t force her. He’d been very careful to ask her permission for everything. But she wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye and say, The only reason I’m with you is because of a bet. So I don’t lose my chance at my dream job. Don’t read more into this than that.
What would he do then? And did she even believe that anymore? This didn’t feel virtual. It felt real.
She followed Daniel into the room. It wasn’t large and the bed occupied the majority of it. A garnet red armchair and an oak armoire consumed most of the rest of the space. A Roman shade the same red as the chair covered the single tall window, casting a reflected rosy glow. A jewel box of a room. Cozy. Warm. So why was she shivering?
Daniel turned his back to that ginormous bed and studied Charlie as she cowered by the door like the kidnapped heroine in some bad historical romance. A frown wrinkled his forehead.
“Having second thoughts?”
She had to clear her throat before she could answer. “Actually, the thought count is up to about eighty-seven, but I’m not sure what any of them mean.”
His gaze softened. “We don’t have to do this now.”
She reached out to him, and he took her hand. “What do you want, Daniel?”
His mouth quirked up at the corners, and a dimple quivered in one cheek. “You, of course. I want you. It’s always been you, whether I knew it or not.”
He took a step toward her and hooked one finger in her scarf. He laced the fingers of his other hand with hers. “Why did you wear this scarf?”
“I…it was…you were…”
Daniel tugged on the fabric, reeling her in, his gaze never leaving her face. He took another step toward her, trapping their joined hands against her stomach, beneath her breasts, and her breath caught. “Trying to hide from me?”
“No.” Charlie’s voice barely made it past her lips.
“Good.” Daniel slid his hand out from between them, splaying his fingers so he covered the maximum real estate, brushing the underside of her breasts.
Oh lord. Boob-stupidity. It apparently cut both ways because, as impossible as her few functioning brain cells knew it to be, she could swear he touched every inch of her skin between navel and chin.
Once his hand was free, he untied the loose knot in the scarf and drew it off slowly. So slowly. The silk slid over her skin like water, like air, baring the back of her neck, her throat, her chest. Daniel followed the path of the s
carf with his lips. A soft kiss at the junction of her neck and shoulder, a firm kiss at the hollow of her throat, a hot kiss on the slope of her breast where it disappeared beneath the neckline of her shirt. His breath heated her through the thin fabric.
“Charlie,” he murmured against her skin.
“Hmmm?” She was surprised she could make a sound. Everything was bottled up, waiting for what he would do next.
“Breathe.”
“Oh.” She exhaled and inhaled on a gasp when his mouth moved lower. “How am I supposed to breathe when you do things like that?”
“Didn’t Procedural Boyfriend execute this program?” He was laughing at her, the big jerk, his lips vibrating against her nipple.
“You want to talk about him now?”
Daniel lifted his head, his eyes as blue and hot as the heart of a flame. “No.”
He straightened up, pulled away from her, and she swayed toward him, nearly losing her balance, aching for his hands, his heat. He met her gaze, unblinking, and pulled his polo shirt over his head.
GodohGod. His bare chest, broad, toned and tanned, dusted with dark hair, hypnotized her. She’d fled from the sight on trivia night. Not this time. She stretched one hand toward him, but pulled back, alarmed by her boldness. Lifting his mouth in a lopsided smile, he captured her hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart.
“It’s okay. I want you to touch. With your hands, with your skin, with anything you want.” She skated her palms over his sculpted pectorals, and he sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. “Christ, what I wouldn’t give to feel your hair do that.”
Her hair? Seriously? He had a kink for her hair? Okay then. She leaned forward, turned her head, and trailed her insane hairdo across his chest. When one errant curl snagged on his nipple, a growl rumbled in his throat and a rush of power she’d never felt, even as Bertha, sent her breath into overdrive.
I did that. Me. I made him make that noise.
She turned her head and nuzzled his chest to see if she could do it again.
…
If the tickle of Charlie’s curls across his chest had sent his pulse through the roof, the press of her lips against his skin nearly blew the top of his head off.
Maintain. Maintain. She’s not experienced with this.
His hands twitched with the urge to touch her, to trace the tender skin at the small of her back, the nape of her neck, the inside of her elbow, but he waited. Let her explore first. Let her feel comfortable first.
But, Christ, that exploration was going to kill him.
So he reached for her waist and his fingers slid under the hem of her shirt. He rested his palm there, against the small of her back. He could never be cold, no one could, with that velvet heat to warm him.
She drew back in response to the stroke of his hand up her spine. Immediately, he missed the exquisite torture of her lips and hair on his skin. He locked gazes with her as he lifted the edge of her shirt, but she pressed her elbows to her sides and he stopped.
He peered into her eyes. “Is this okay?”
“Yes. Sorry. I’m just…” She relaxed. Shrugged. “A little self-conscious.” She gulped and flung her arms up, overbalancing until he steadied her. He took her invitation, easing her shirt up and over her head, off her arms.
His breath caught at the honey glow of her skin in the amber lamplight. A trail of freckles curved from her collarbone to the top of her breast like a newly discovered constellation. He couldn’t resist. He followed the trail with his lips.
Before Trisha, he’d been able to separate himself from the sex. Sure, his body responded—it was sex, after all, and he was a guy—and he took care of his partner, physically at least. But his mind had been disengaged. His feelings? Not even in the same state, let alone the same room or the same bed. After Trisha, he’d shut everything down except his anger.
Now? Completely different story. If he didn’t get them naked and on the bed in the next sixty seconds, he’d probably blast into orbit, but at the same time, he wanted to take it slow. He’d never have a first chance again—his first chance to uncover Charlie Forrester, the woman who he’d swear had been embedded in his emotional DNA since the day they first met.
So he told himself to stand down, an order certain points below his waist found impossible, and focused on her instead.
She was self-conscious? He’d level the playing field. He stripped off his pants but left his boxer briefs with their telltale bulge in place. He raised his eyebrows in silent question, his hands on her bare waist, his thumbs stroking the skin beneath her waistband. She nodded, her arms wrapped across her stomach, her lips captured by her teeth, and he unfastened her pants and slid them down her long, smooth legs.
He kissed her knee on his way past—he couldn’t resist—and she flinched, her breath catching. So he did it again with her other knee, and she exhaled on what his ego swore was a moan.
He stood up. Christ, she was gorgeous with her eyes wide, pupils blown, quivering with what he hoped was answering desire. He traced the slope of her shoulder, the column of her throat, with one finger. “I really want to feel your skin against mine, Charlie. All of your skin. All of mine.” He pressed a kiss against her temple, her cheek, her mouth. “Are you ready?”
“Oh lord.” She captured his face between her hands and kissed him back, her lips soft and yet insistent. “Yes.”
He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, locating her bra hooks. “Excellent. Let’s get there.”
Chapter Sixteen
Geekronym: UX
Translation: User experience
Definition: The behaviors, attitudes, and emotions inspired by a user’s interaction with a computer program or website. UX covers only what the user actually perceives, not the entirety of the actual content or functionality of the site or program.
Charlie’s experience with Preston hadn’t prepared her for making love with Daniel. For one thing, Daniel’s intensity was off the charts. She remembered that same focus and concentration from when they were kids working on one of their crazy inventions. Attention to detail, that was his watchword.
Stretched out next to her on the bed, he turned that attention on her now, as if every inch of her was part of a fascinating frontier that he had to explore with his eyes and hands and mouth. His fingers activated a neural network on her skin, connecting points she had no idea were related, each part lighting up in sympathy to his touch.
When he traced a path behind the back of her knee with his tongue, spangles burst at the base of her neck. He nipped her collarbone, igniting a starburst of tingles in her inner thighs. The kisses he peppered up the curve of her breast raised goose bumps at the base of her spine.
But when his mouth closed over her nipple and he suckled, rolling the other between his fingers? All available neurons imploded, leaving behind nothing but the sensation of Daniel’s touch, his kiss.
And then…then…then he pressed an open-mouthed kiss between her legs, sparking an explosion in her brighter than any of tonight’s fireworks. She gasped, back arched, head pressed into the pillow, fingers clutching the sheet.
Lord. She needed him in her. Needed him now, this very nanosecond, but when she reached for him, her fingers only brushed his hair while he lingered, planting soft kisses on her hip.
“Daniel. Please. I need you up here with me. You have to—”
“One second, sweetheart.”
She heard a crinkle of foil. Condom. Yes. They were getting to the good part now.
Wait. Strike that. All of it was good. All of it was freaking amazing. Then he was above her, and she ran her hands down the smooth skin of his back and parted her legs to cradle him, welcome him where he belonged. She needed him to fill her and he did, pushing all the way home, and she felt him there, right there.
He gazed down at her, lips parted, his pupils dilated until the
blue nearly disappeared, his arms next to her shoulders, muscles bunched as he held himself up. Then he began to move, a long, slow glide and thrust.
She felt it all the way to her heart.
…
Daniel would have sworn nothing could be better than the sight of Charlie spread out on the bed like his own personal erotic feast, her hair a copper halo on the pillow and her skin golden against the pale sheets.
Then he’d tasted her. Watched her come undone under his mouth, and that had been the ultimate.
But nothing…nothing compared to the way her core gloved his shaft like fire-warmed velvet, the way her eyes widened as he thrust into her, to the ripple of her muscles when she came again around him.
Christ…he couldn’t even… Control, damn it. No way could he let this end yet. He held himself still, hands braced by her shoulders, her nipples teasing his chest, while her body tensed, her breasts and throat rosy with a lover’s flush. She moaned and his balls tightened, heat sparking in his lower back, but he gritted his teeth. Not yet.
She opened her eyes, her gaze slowly regaining focus. She blinked at him, her pupils blown wide.
“Daniel.”
“Nnnng?”
“Breathe.”
He released a tortured breath, then sucked in another when she wrapped her long, smooth legs around his ass.
“Daniel?”
“Nnnnnnnnng.”
“Move.”
Right. That he could do. He slid almost all the way out of her, gratified by her whimper of protest, then thrust home.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “This feels so…you feel…mmmmm.”
Couldn’t have put it better myself.
Then she tilted her hips to take him deeper, and he lost it. Two more thrusts and his vision whited out as he came with her hands tangled in his hair and her mouth warm on his throat.
…
In her wildest imagination, Charlie had never pictured this reality, virtual or otherwise. Her head resting on Daniel’s bare shoulder, her hand on his chest, rising and falling with his breath. She had permission—no, not permission, a mandate—to touch him. Anywhere. He’d said so. More than once.
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