by Blake Wilder
Charley was opinionated, rough around the edges, she left bruises when she punched me on the arm…and she was a feminist, for God’s sake.
I didn’t have time for that shit.
And even if hell had frozen over and I’d asked her out on my own, I didn’t doubt for one second, she’d turn me down flat. If there was one thing Charley and I had always tacitly agreed on, it was the simple fact that neither one of us was attracted to the other.
She thought I was an arrogant, swaggering jerk and she’d made it her life’s mission in high school to try to put me in my place.
The last time I’d seen her was at her and Bella’s graduation party. We’d snuck in a bunch of beer and the three of us had gotten trashed in my parents’ basement after most of the family and friends had gone home. I was bragging about slipping my hand up Erin McMillan’s skirt and fingering her in the middle of the party, my actions shielded from everyone as we stood behind my dad’s backyard bar.
Bella had merely rolled her eyes at my boast, but Charley had called me a cocky son of a bitch. Then she’d assured me that I was going to get mine one day. Promised me that somewhere down the road I was going to meet a woman I couldn’t charm into giving me my way. One who would make me work for the privilege of dating her, of marrying her.
Jesus.
As if.
The memory provoked a grin. The first one all day.
No such woman had arrived—would ever arrive—and I was going to be sure to let Charley know she’d been wrong.
1490
I’d reached her room.
Great.
I straightened my tie, sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Here’s goes nothing.
The door swung open and my world tilted on its axis.
“Charley?”
I stood there for a full minute, staring at the woman looking back at me, before glancing at the number on the room again.
She tilted her head, staring back. Her gaze slowly drifted from my face, shifting lower, much lower—Jesus, was she trying to check out my package?—before meeting my eyes again with a sexy grin.
Granted we hadn’t seen each other in eight years, but I couldn’t believe anyone could change as much as she had.
Her auburn hair was a lot longer than it had been back in high school, wavy and shiny and the perfect length to wrap around my fist as I pulled her toward me to kiss.
No. Scratch that.
I was not kissing Charley. It would be like kissing a dude.
Or would it?
Her expressive green eyes were accentuated by long, thick lashes and smoky eyeliner that made them look big and beautiful. Her lip gloss was a shimmery pink that made me think of cotton candy and had my mouth watering for a taste, just to see if it was as sweet as it looked.
Nope. No tasting either.
The silence lingered as I took in the rest of her.
She was still tall, but there were no remnants of the skinny kid she’d been before. This woman was svelte, graceful. Her dark green dress fit her like a second skin revealing the perfect amount of cleavage, the slit in the skirt giving me more than a peek of one of her toned, tanned long legs. Legs I wouldn’t mind having wrapped around my waist as I…
Nope. No fucking.
No. No. N—
Mother of God. My gaze landed on her chest again and lingered. Charley Matthews had tits. Amazing tits.
Suddenly, every miserable scenario I’d imagined for the night vanished, replaced instead with a fantasy. Of Charley, naked and under me, those shapely legs resting on my shoulders as I slid inside her, her perfect breasts in my hands.
“Hi, Alex,” Charley said with a sexy smile, finding her voice before I did. “Long time no see.”
Charley
Holy.
Shit.
Alex stood there. In a suit. Looking like some chiseled-in-marble, Greek Adonis.
He’d shaved. That was the first thing I noticed. And as much as I’d liked the beard he’d been sporting during the playoffs, this fresh-from-the-pages-of-GQ look was just as hot as the rugged mountain man I’d seen being interviewed on ESPN a few nights earlier.
“Charley?”
I’d had the benefit of watching Alex on television pretty much constantly since he left Wisconsin. The second he was drafted, his team became my team and I took diehard fan to new limits. So while I’d seen the breathtakingly gorgeous adult he’d become, it was clear he’d expected to see me as…
Oh. Crap.
Yeah.
Now I got it. I hadn’t recognized the woman looking back at me in the mirror a few minutes ago either. In fact, I felt like a grade A asshole. Bella had been determined that I was not only going to the wedding, but I was going to look like a million bucks and make Ben rue the day he picked Beverly Bryant over me.
So she’d curled my hair in some sexy style she’d seen in a magazine and spent well over an hour fussing with my makeup. I felt a little bit like a clown. My daily look didn’t include more than a few swipes of mascara and tinted Chapstick.
“Come in,” I said, wishing he’d say something more than my name. He stepped over the threshold and I caught a whiff of his cologne. It was the same scent he’d worn back in school. I used to give him shit for it, claiming he smelled like he had just walked out of Hollister.
Funny how it was having a much different effect on me now.
I shut the door, trying to feign a coolness I didn’t feel. I mean…I knew Alex was hot, but after too many years of seeing him only on the TV screen, it occurred to me—belatedly—that he had started to feel like a fictional character.
Seeing him up close and in person was doing things to me that—if I was being honest—I had anticipated…just not quite to this extent.
My nipples were hard, my panties wet and I was struggling to breathe.
This was not good.
“You look beautiful, Charley, I mean…Charlotte.”
I shook my head. “No, please. Call me Charley.”
“Phew,” he said, with an easy smile. “There was no way I was going to manage to call you Charlotte all night. I know it’s your name, but it doesn’t fit you. Never has.”
It had been eight years since we’d seen each other, and yet, Alex seemed to know me better than the man I’d just spent the last three years of my life with. “Bella struggled with the change too. Everyone did. The only two who were successful were my mom, who’s always called me Charlotte and…” I forced myself to say the asshole’s name, “Ben.”
Alex nodded, acknowledging that he knew about my breakup. Mercifully, he let the comment go. “I like your hair like this. I didn’t realize how red it was back in school. You always kept it so short.”
I laughed. “I stopped cutting it myself in college, after an intervention from some girls in my dorm. Of course, because I preferred to spend my money on Starbucks and cheese fries, there was never any left for haircuts, so I just let it grow out.”
Alex surprised me by reaching out to take a strand of it in his fingers. He had big hands. I know that was a weird thing to notice, but all I could think about was how much I wanted those big hands on me.
Everywhere.
“It’s pretty. Suits you.”
I shrugged, trying to ignore the way his compliment made my stomach flutter. “I learned how to French braid by watching a video on YouTube, so that’s my go-to hairstyle these days. Except for tonight, of course. Bella came armed with a curling iron. It was pretty terrifying.”
Yeah. Like Alex Stone gave two shits about how I wore my hair. I was rambling like an idiot. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop me from talking.
“I’m sorry about the game the other night.”
Alex smiled, but it looked forced.
Wow. I was batting a thousand here. First I make stupid small talk about my hair, then I remind him of what had to be the most brutal loss of his career.
“I’ve had better nights,” he said.
“It
was a hell of a game. You should be proud of yourself. You were on fire, scoring those two goals, killing three power plays.”
“High-sticking Carlyle with two minutes left to play which set them up to score the tying goal and toss us into double overtime. We lost. In game seven of the Conference Final.”
They had. And I’d been absolutely devastated. But he didn’t need to hear that. “You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” I said, without a clue of what the right thing was.
Alex laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
He wasn’t, but I also wasn’t sure how to comfort him. Alex was typically the king of swagger, oozing with cocky confidence. I hated seeing him down on himself.
“I’m not looking forward to tonight’s conversations,” he admitted.
I got that. I was as competitive as Alex. I fucking hated to lose. “Yeah. I guess there’s no way to put a ban on hockey talk. Hey, I know. We’ll make a game of it. Every time someone says, ‘There’s always next season,’ we’ll drink a shot of tequila.”
Alex honestly seemed to consider that suggestion, then shook his head. “We’ll be wasted in twenty minutes.”
“Maybe so, but hey…open bar.”
Alex had a killer smile. It was the kind that transformed his whole face, complete with dimples and delicate lines that drew my attention to his dark chocolate-colored eyes.
“So, you saw the game?” he asked.
“Yeah. Ben and I are big fans. We were watching together. You guys lost and then…” I blew out a long breath.
“Bella told me about Ben Jerome,” he said so I wouldn’t have to. “Asshole dumped you right after the game?”
“Dick move, right? Talk about adding insult to injury.”
“We both got cross-checked this week.”
“I’m not looking forward to this reception either. Ben’s going to be there. With his date, whom I can only assume he was seeing while he was dating me as well. Apparently, Beverly is better suited to be an accountant’s wife.”
“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” he said, repeating my comment to him.
It made me laugh, even as I said, “I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
“What do you say we go to this wedding, make your ex jealous as fuck, and then get shit-faced on those free tequila shots?”
“Best offer ever.”
Alex was still very much like the guy I’d known all those years ago.
And while it was comforting to know he hadn’t changed, that didn’t help me beat back this uncontrollable attraction.
Commitment wasn’t in Alex’s repertoire. His relationship attention span lasted until the orgasm. Then—SQUIRREL—he was on to the next blonde…or supermodel or pop diva or...hmmmm…redhead?
The lightbulb flashed on.
I wasn’t looking to date anyone at the moment. And God knew, Alex wasn’t either.
I wanted to try to revive my diminished confidence, to find the woman I’d been pre-Ben.
The best part about Alex was he’d only ever known the original, genuine Charley. He hadn’t seen me at my worst this past year. Hadn’t seen me walking around in skin that didn’t fit.
Just a few minutes with Alex and I was already feeling more like my old self.
Tonight was an end and a beginning. The end of Charlotte and the beginning of Charley, a take-no-prisoners, single woman who didn’t need a man to tell her how to behave or who to be.
Alex was the bridge.
And the last hurrah.
Because I wasn’t about to ignore the parts of my body that tingled, aching for his touch, his lips.
I’d been with one man in my entire life and while my experience was limited, I also wasn’t stupid about sex. Ben had been okay in bed, managing to bring me to orgasm about fifty percent of the time. Landing fifty shots on goal out of a hundred in hockey would be considered stellar.
But the horny woman in me was certain Alex would sink every single shot he took. I liked those odds.
When Alex sat down on the edge of my bed and patted the spot next to him, I knew exactly how I wanted to kick off my new life. “Maybe we should come up with a game plan before we go downstairs.”
He looked good sitting on my bed, looking all James Bond-like in his expensive suit.
Yeah. This was a no-brainer.
Screw the streak.
I was having a one-night stand.
With Alex.
Then tomorrow, Charley Matthews took her life back.
Decision made, I sank down next to him, the sudden clenching in my pussy proving I’d made the right choice. “We need a game plan?”
Alex
We did not need a game plan, but after seeing Charley again, I knew exactly how I wanted this night to end. While the blonde barracuda at the sports bar hadn’t managed to spark my desire, Charley was firing off all kinds of needs in me.
Thank you, Jesus. I wasn’t impotent.
But before I could act on my desires, I needed to know what I was up against. After all, Ben had just dumped her a couple nights ago. I had anticipated finding a blubbering, red-eyed mess of a woman, but instead, Charley was the same smiling, easygoing girl she’d always been.
With one big exception.
Back in school, she’d always felt like one of the guys and I’d never felt this overwhelming urge to kiss her. Tonight…well, right now, it was taking everything I had not to pull her onto my lap and slip my hand under her dress to see if she was feeling it too. God, just imagining my fingers slipping into her wet pussy had my cock stiff as a pike.
I tried to covertly adjust my pants.
Charley’s gaze followed the action, a knowing smile crossing her full lips. Lips I wanted wrapped around my dick.
Ten minutes ago, I’d been standing outside the room, dreading how long this night was going to be.
I felt the same way now, but for an entirely different reason. Sitting next to her at that reception, wanting her the whole time, would be fucking brutal.
Time to ask the hard question. “Are you going with me tonight because you want to make Ben jealous and try to win him back?”
Her instant look of disdain thrilled me. “Fuck no. The guy is dead to me. But I think I might need your help in regards to one thing with Ben.”
My sudden happiness vanished. “What help?”
“You’re good at defense. Do you mind playing it tonight? I don’t trust myself not to go over to the asshole and deck him. I don’t really want to get arrested for assault, so maybe you can hold me back if things go south. Or failing that…I’m counting on you to post bail.”
I laughed.
God. She might look like a lady, but under the skin, she was still the same Charley. And while those attributes had made her a fun friend when I was younger, right now, shit…right now, they made me want to strip off that sexy dress and fuck her. Something about her had me convinced Charley Matthews would be a wild, passionate lover.
“What’s so funny about that?” she asked.
“I’m sitting here, trying to convince myself this gorgeous woman sitting next to me is the tomboy who gave me a fat lip right before homecoming—”
“You can’t keep giving me shit for that. I said I was sorry. It’s not like I intentionally shot the puck at your face.”
I narrowed my eyes. “The jury is still out on whether or not that was intentional.”
I expected her to keep arguing that age-old fight, but Charley was full of surprises tonight. “Gorgeous, huh?” she said, leaning closer, her tits mere inches from my arm.
She was flirting with me. If I was a gentleman, I’d put the brakes on all of this. After all, she’d just had her heart broken. I’d be a dick to take advantage of her when she was down.
I reached out and ran my fingers over her cheek. “Gorgeous,” I murmured.
She shivered in response, shifting nearer, lifting her face and inviting me to kiss her.
Fuck it. I flunked chivalry in school.
I moved towa
rd her, our lips nearly touching when my phone rang. The sudden sound in the quiet room had both of us jerking away from each other.
Charley’s face was flushed and I could see her breasts rising and falling as she fought to catch her breath.
I pulled my cell out of my pocket, intent on turning it off and grabbing that kiss.
Bella’s picture flashed on the screen. That was when I noticed the time.
Shit. We were late to the reception. And Bella would continue to call to see where we were until I answered. And if I didn’t, she’d come up here to haul us both out.
“Yeah,” I said, by way of greeting as I answered the phone.
“Where are you?” Bella asked.
“Charley’s room. We were just getting reacquainted.” I gave Charley a playful wink and she giggled.
Fuck. Had I really thought Charley wasn’t the type of woman I was attracted to? Right now, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Mmm hmmm,” Bella hummed. “Get reacquainted down here. Where I can chaperone you.”
“Bella,” I started.
“Please, Alex,” my sister said. “I asked you to bring Charley to the reception because I care about her and I know you’d never hurt her. Prove me right on that. She just got her heart drop-kicked. What she needs tonight is a friend. Not the Alex Stone signature move of wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Besides, she’s sworn off men for a little while, a move I fully support. Got it?”
“You know, I’m not…” a dick, I started to say, but the truth was my sister was right. I’d been steering the night directly toward a one-night stand.
Charley’s brow creased and she tilted her head, curious about what Bella was saying.
I was a dick.
This was Charley Matthews, the girl next door, my sister’s best friend, the tomboy who had played harder than any other guy on our team.
She wasn’t some stranger in a bar.
The two of us had shared a pretty great childhood together. I’d be the world’s biggest asshole if I took her to my bed tonight, knowing she was vulnerable, knowing those actions would likely hurt her in the long run.
