What He Doesn't Know

by Kandi Steiner

  She cried out, letting her head drop to the wall behind her, and I took advantage of the new access to her neck. She wore the same mustard yellow blouse she’d worn at school all day, and my deft fingers fumbled with the petite buttons. I’d only made it to the bottom of her bra when Charlie slid her hands between the two sections of fabric and ripped.

  Buttons scattered on my hardwood floor, and I let out a hungry growl, sucking the exposed swell of her breast. She raked her nails down my bare back, awakening a beast I’d tamed for far too long, one I wasn’t sure I could restrain for much longer.

  Once I’d made quick work of her bra, I dropped her feet to the ground long enough for us to both strip out of our shoes and pants. I beat her to it, which granted me the remarkable view of watching her hook her thumbs into the sides of her nude, lace panties before she slid them slowly down over her thighs, her knees, letting them fall from her calves to the floor.

  Charlie Reid was completely naked, standing less than three inches away from me.

  And no, I didn’t give a fuck that I’d used the wrong last name.

  Her breath caught when she glanced down at my shaft, hard as marble and angling toward her with a desire that had existed before either of us even dared to admit it. She hopped into my arms again, and this time when she wrapped her legs around my backside, I slid against the wetness of her core, and we both moaned in unison.

  “Oh God, I need you. Now, Reese,” she cried, digging her heels into my backside.

  My crown slipped between her lips only to dive out again, and I gripped her ass hard in my hands, biting the tendon of her shoulder with a satisfying gasp leaving her dainty mouth. I couldn’t think of anything else as I reached between us, positioning myself at her entrance, and in one smooth, hard thrust, I was inside her.

  We both saw stars.

  Not the soft, sweet, majestic kind that sparkle in the distance on a dark night. No, we saw the black holes — we became them — two blazing suns burning up in each other’s atmosphere. That feeling, that moment when I was finally inside her after years of both of us wanting it, there was nothing comparable to that pleasure — to that pure, unabashed bliss.

  That wedding ring on her finger didn’t mean a goddamn thing.

  She was mine.

  I pumped my hips once, filling her to the brim as my fingers sank into the soft skin of her hips. I swore she tore through the flesh of my back with her nails when I pumped again, but she only cried more, and I was all to eager to deliver.

  “Fuck,” I groaned into her ear, sucking the lobe between my teeth as I flexed again. It was all too much — the feel of her, the years of waiting, the forbidden warnings hanging around us like electric wires cut loose from our storm. They sparked and buzzed just inches from our skin, ready to sting if only we gave them the chance, but we carefully maneuvered them like we were in a perfectly orchestrated dance.

  And that’s when my self control came back in a whoosh.

  I’d waited for so long to have her, and the truth was — I didn’t know how long she’d be mine. She was here now, she was in my arms, she was kissing my lips, but I didn’t have any promise that I’d get to keep her.

  If this was all I got, if tonight was my only chance, I sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it.

  I slowed my thrusts, pressing my forehead to hers until I slipped all the way out. We both visibly ached at the loss, and she pulled at my hair, the heels of her feet digging into my backside with fervor.

  “Don’t stop,” she moaned. “Please. More. I need this. I need you.”

  “Fuck,” I repeated, dragging the word out as I tried to remember why I’d stopped at all. “Just… wait.”

  But I forced a breath, running the pad of my thumb over her lip before I kissed it gently. I waited until her rich coffee eyes connected with mine, needing to know she heard the next words I said.

  “I’ve waited so long to touch you, Charlie,” I breathed, nose flaring. “Too long. And I want to take my time. I don’t want to miss a single inch of your body or a single second of whatever time I get to have you for my own.”

  Her eyes searched mine, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

  “I don’t know if this is the only night I get to see you like this, to touch you, to have my hands on your body. But if it is,” I said, forcing a swallow as my fingers brushed the sensitive peak of her nipple. “Then I’m going to spend all night long worshiping it.”

  I shifted until she was cradled in my arms, her legs hanging over one forearm while my other supported her back. She looped her arms around my neck and watched me like she didn’t believe I truly existed as I carried her across my living room.

  I could have taken her to my bed, but it didn’t feel right — not when the fort we’d built was still waiting for us to finish what we’d started.

  Lowering us carefully under the front sheet, I sat with her in my lap, slowing everything down with one long breath. My fingertips slipped over her pale skin like paintbrushes, purposeful and sure, and I kissed her lips in tandem as she wove her own hands into my hair. When my fingers skated the lines of her stretch marks, Charlie’s face broke a little, and her eyes found mine.

  “Is this okay?” I asked, feeling the scarred skin under my fingers.

  She nodded, moving until she was straddling me, and time seemed to stop altogether under the protection of those sheets.

  “I’ve waited a long time, too,” she breathed, kissing along the line of my jaw. “And it’s already more than I ever imagined.”

  I smirked, capturing her lips with mine as she went to move to the other side of my jaw.

  “I’m only getting started.”

  Pinning her arms at her sides, I laid back into the pile of sleeping bags and blankets, and then I guided her up my body until her hips straddled my face. It was ridiculous how good she smelled, how fresh and wet she was with her thighs on either side of my head. I released her arms, running my hands down the front of her perfect body before running them behind to grip her ass firmly. One hand slid lower, between her cheeks and lower still until I grazed her wet center. I slipped one finger inside with my eyes locked on hers, and she moaned, reaching forward for something to hold onto.

  I snapped up to grab her wrists again.

  “Don’t you fucking tear down these sheets,” I warned, and she whimpered, hands flying to her breasts, instead.

  I smacked them away again.

  “And these are mine.”

  Licking my lips, I held her gaze as I met her clit with my tongue, dragging it up and over before my entire mouth suctioned on. Charlie bucked her hips against my mouth as I resumed the position I’d held her in before, one hand still holding her chest while the other slipped over her ass and down below. I slid one finger deep inside her tight, wet pussy in one fluid motion, and she arched her back with an insatiable moan.

  She still didn’t know where to put her hands, so she covered mine at her chest first before they ran up through her hair. She gripped tight, hips rocking against my tongue, eyes falling up to the big top ceiling the sheets made above us.

  This, I thought. This was worth the wait.

  I took my time teasing her, working her clit with my tongue like it was a candy mint in my mouth. I’d suck and lick, swirling my tongue over the skin before I’d pull back and softly blow. She hated that the most — when I’d pull my fingers out, blow on her clit and leave her writhing above me — but I knew the payoff would be worth it.

  “Such a tease,” she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut and grinding into me when I finally resumed my slow torture. She leaned back, and before I realized her intention, she wrapped her hand firmly around my shaft and pumped me in time with my fingers inside her.

  “Jesus Christ,” I cursed between her thighs, and she smiled down at me, leaning back a bit farther for more leverage.

  Every pump had me closer to release, every squeeze of her small fingers over my shaft had me aching to come in her hands.

  I
shot up, holding her waist steady as I slid her thighs down over my biceps, my forearms, until she was in my lap again.

  Charlie kissed me breathlessly, tasting me on her lips like it was the sweet nectar of life.

  “Is this what you want?” I asked, gripping myself hard and pressing the tip of me between her soaked lips.

  She moaned, rolling her body into me, coating me in her wetness. I’d never felt so wanted in my life, and for a split second, I wondered why she was here. I wondered why she’d shown up at my house on a Friday night, why she’d suddenly decided she couldn’t stand to be without me.

  But I pushed those thoughts aside, and without wasting another second, I slipped my crown inside her, lowering her down slowly, inch by blissful inch.

  Her breaths picked up speed as she slid over me, and once I was all the way in, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her to my chest as she adjusted to me. I kissed her lips, her nose, her forehead, running my fingers through her hair and over her lips. Once her eyes opened and found mine again, I gripped her waist in my hands, lifting her up to the tip of me before lowering her back down.

  “Yes,” she exhaled, the word a plea for more just as much as it was a cry of disbelief.

  She steadied herself with her hands on my shoulders, taking control as she moved against me. Every time I flexed my hips up into her, brushing her clit and hitting her with a new depth, she would whimper and shake and pick up speed.

  “You’re close.”

  “Yes,” she cried again.

  I pulled her flush against me, one hand at the small of her back while the other cupped her ass. I moved her faster, using that hand to grind her clit against me with every thrust.

  “Come,” I commanded, sucking her lobe between my teeth again. I held it there as her moans intensified, and when she held her breath a moment before completely losing it, I moved to kiss and bite down her neck, still rocking her hard against me. She was so wet, slipping and sliding over me as she came undone, and I reveled in the feel of her finding ecstasy with my name rolling off her lips.

  When she was spent, she collapsed a little, folding into me like a rag doll as I kissed her shoulder. I rolled us gently until she was on her back, and when I slipped inside her again in one of the oldest positions of time, I realized why missionary was a tried and true favorite.

  The fucking view.

  Her bright pink lips, swollen and parted as her breath picked up again with the flex of my hips. Her wild hair, tangled from my hands and surrounding her face like a halo. Her perfect, supple breasts, creamy white with two hard nipples bouncing with every thrust. My eyes flicked from one to the other, over and over again in a torturous circle of aesthetic magic.

  When her nails dug into my back, I pumped harder, faster, watching her breasts bounce wildly, and her begging me to come for her was the last conscious thought I had before I unloaded inside her. I kept thrusting as long as I could before the sensation overcame me and I stilled, releasing inside her with the pent-up energy of fourteen years of desire.

  My arms gave out when the rush seceded, and Charlie caught me in her arms, kissing my hair and smoothing her hands over my back as our breaths evened out. I kissed her breasts in return, wrapping my arms under the small of her back and pulling her into me like I couldn’t get close enough.

  Words didn’t exist in that moment — none that mattered, anyway. I listened to the thump of Charlie’s heart under her ribs, counting the beats and trying to match mine with hers as the moment settled.

  It seemed as though the sheets floating around us prevented true reality from invading the night, like we existed in a different universe altogether. There was no Cameron, no marriage, no age difference that had once seemed like such a barrier. In that fort, under the thin, sloping sheets, we were Reese and Charlie. We were together. We were happy.

  I only hoped we could stay that way.

  Charlie

  I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I woke to the soft, beautiful sound of Reese playing the piano.

  My eyes fluttered open slowly, the dimly lit sheets coming into view first. It was still dark, the only light coming from a candle lit on the table outside the fort. I traced the slope of the sheets with heavy eyes, watching the candlelight flicker as I stretched my arms up over my head and pointed my toes.

  Every muscle ached in the best way, in a way they hadn’t ached in so long I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. I could still feel his hands on me as I laid there listening to him play.

  I should have felt guilty.

  That thought assaulted me out of nowhere, and I did a pulse check, trying to find that guilt that I’d felt so easily the first night we had kissed. I pressed a hand to my chest, but there was no weight there. I closed my eyes again, searching for that sinking gut feeling, for the dread of what I’d done — but it was nonexistent.

  It was like I’d been swimming upstream for years and years, exhausting myself, and finally I’d let go and floated where the river wanted to take me. I didn’t feel guilty or sad or angry with myself.

  I felt relieved.

  Happiness surrounded me in that little fort of sheets, so similar to ones I’d built in my youth. Maybe that was part of it. I couldn’t be sure. All I did know is that the small ounce of guilt I did feel was only there because I didn’t feel guilty over what I’d done. It was a forced feeling, one that was born out of obligation rather than actual, organic existence.

  Still, guilt-ridden or not, I’d made a choice that would change everything about my life.

  And I knew, in the back of my mind, that I’d hurt Cameron. That killed me more than I could admit to myself in that moment — that sated moment in the house of another man. Maybe I wasn’t in love with Cameron any longer, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love him, and it didn’t mean I ever wanted to hurt him.

  Somewhere along the way, we’d been broken down. I’d thought for years that we’d come back from it, that our love was strong enough to survive, but it wasn’t. And I didn’t want to live an unhappy life any longer trying to make something work that wouldn’t.

  I picked up the quilt Reese had placed over me and tucked it around my shoulders, padding my way into the room where his baby grand piano was. He wore only a loose pair of sweat pants that hugged his hips, and I watched the muscles in his back ebb and flow with every sweep of his fingers over the ebony and ivory keys. The melody was one I’d never heard before, a sweet and passionate one with just a hint of sadness. He finished a dramatic crescendo as I entered the room, and he slowed the keys again at the sight of me, picking up the sweet, light and airy notes from before.

  The lid was already down, which I knew had probably been done on purpose just in case I joined him. I used the bench to climb up on top, sitting with my legs crossed and blanket wrapped all the way around me as I watched him play. His eyes were on his hands mostly, but every now and then they’d trail their way up my bare leg that was exposed by the blanket, lock on my eyes, and hold my gaze before they’d find their way back down to the piano.

  Time slipped away like a silk thread through the eye of a needle as Reese played, one song drifting easily into another. I watched his arms, his fingers, sometimes letting myself focus on the crease between his brows. Every note seemed to pain him in a way, like he had to peel away a layer of skin each time he discovered a new string of chords that fit perfectly together. I loved how he gave himself to his music, how he felt it from the inside out.

  He was beautiful.

  After a while, his fingers stilled, and an overwhelming silence fell over us. Reese eyed me for a moment before he reached up for my hips, sliding me over until I was dead center in front of him. With his arms around me, he bent forward, his head to my chest, and I held him there.

  So many questions existed between us in that moment, but he only asked one.

  “Why did you come tonight?”

  I blew out a long, pensive breath, debating how to answer that question. There was more than
one answer, or rather, one long, tangled web of answers that somehow made one full picture. It hadn’t just been one reason, and the pieces on their own wouldn’t have made sense.

  “Jeremiah’s house burned down this week.”

  Reese stilled in my arms, and he pulled back enough to lift his eyes to mine. “Oh, Charlie. I’m so sorry. Is he okay?”

  Already, my heart ached at how he reacted to the news. It was such a contrast to Cameron.

  “He’s hurting,” I said honestly, lacing my arms around Reese’s neck. “So is his family. And I didn’t take the news well. Jeremiah was just so sad all day, you know? He wasn’t himself. And then when his mom told me what happened, I just felt helpless. He might not be able to come back to Westchester.”

  Reese’s brows bent together, but he simply rubbed my lower back, encouraging me to keep talking. He was listening intently, hanging on my ever word.

  “I just… I freaked out, Reese. I called Cameron and begged him to come home.” Reese’s jaw ticked a little at that. “He was already there, thank God, and I just ran to him. I needed him. And I know that’s hard for you to hear, but he’s been my partner for ten years. I needed him in that moment.”

  “No, it’s okay. I understand.”

  “But the thing is,” I said quickly, catching his eyes with mine. “Cameron was there. Physically. But he wasn’t there in the way that counted most. He said I was acting crazy, and he kept reminding me that Jeremiah wasn’t our son, and that it wasn’t my job to fix any of it.”

  Reese’s expression hardened. “It doesn’t matter if he’s your son, he’s important to you. And you care about him. And you treat all your kids in your class as if they were your own. It’s who you are, it’s how your heart works.”

  I sniffed, my eyes blurring a little.