by Melissa Blue
“Hello?” he asked.
He was going to hang up, and probably wouldn't answer again, if she didn't speak soon. She sat a little straighter in her chair. Just blurt it all out. Think of the boys. They need this.
“This is, uh, Charlotte from last night. And…you told me to call you if I ever needed anything.”
A tense silence filled the other end of the line. “I see, and what is it you want from me, Charlotte From Last Night?”
Oh, God. His tenor had gone from warm to cold in seconds. Normally, she'd break under such an imposing and intense tone, but the boys needed her to be brave and brazen. She'd gone into catering because, night after night, the high stress of a restaurant's kitchen had frayed her nerves. As a caterer, not only was she in charge, but so much of her job involved preparation.
The boys needed her, and if she were honest, she needed to give back, to somehow make up for getting lucky and having a mentor. Where would she be if Layla hadn't invested in her future?
“I…” The word came out meek. She steeled her spine. “I just need an hour of your time, and then we can call ourselves even.”
He grunted. “And for this hour, what would we be doing?”
The cold was gone, but now there was heat in his voice. Her nape tingled, remembering how rough and warm his touch had been on her skin.
She swallowed. “I volunteer at the Williamson Center for Troubled Youths. I teach them how to make simple, healthy meals. For the holidays, I do something more on the weekend.” Stop rambling, Charlotte. “They've decided to cut the funding, and we need buzz. If you dropped by for a cooking session, that could be everything we need to get donations going or even have the board rethink cutting us out of the budget.”
“Huh,” is all he said in reply.
The tension was getting to her. She picked up a stray pen and chewed at the end.
“That…actually seems reasonable.” He sounded taken aback by it. “When do you need me?”
“Friday. I can email all the other information you would need or text it to this number.”
“Email. I'll run it by PR to give this a little extra push.”
Her heart fluttered. “Thank you so much, Adam. This can help, and the boys are probably going to go wild when they see you.”
He chuckled and that, too, went down as smooth as chocolate and just as delicious. “You’re sweet. Didn't think people like you existed anymore.”
She huffed at that. “I'm not a unicorn.”
“The jokes I could make about rainbows… But I don't want you blushing again. It makes me think of you…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I'm headed to the gym.” He spouted off his email address. “Looking forward to seeing you, Charlotte—”
“West,” she offered up.
“From Last Night had more of a ring to it.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Thank you again. I promise you won't regret it.”
They said their good-byes. The moment she heard the silence on the other end, she sprawled back in her chair, drained from the high and low of the short conversation.
And, goodness, Adam. Even over the phone, he was larger than life and sexy as hell. Her stomach was flipping. She pressed a hand to her heart, which refused to slow. How was she going to survive an hour with him?
She shook her head. Something to worry about later when the time came. What was important was that this could save the program. She dialed Mona and sent up a thanks to the universe for going easy on her.
I don't want you blushing again. Makes me think of you…
Of course, her face flushed now. Didn't take a big leap to imagine what a blush made Adam think. Maybe he wasn't completely reformed from his bad boy ways. Something akin to a thrill and need shivered down her spine. Her nipples pulled tight. No. No. Being nice and kind couldn't offset his past, reckless ways. After their short conversation, the media may have exaggerated, but there was too much truth in his public reputation. The men in her life needed to be stable, and definitely not famous football players who went through women like tissues.
Thankfully, Mona answered her phone and that made it easy to nix the train of thought. Adam wasn't something Charlotte needed to worry about. He called her sweet. Men like him didn't go for sweet women. He was likely a huge flirt, and just having fun with her.
Nothing to worry about at all.
CHAPTER THREE
What should have been a simple appearance had turned into a full-on event. Adam should have known the team's PR maven wouldn't pass up an opportunity to patch up his rep.
A sea of reporters was setting up equipment in front of the Williamson Center for Troubled Youths. The neighborhood wasn't any different than the one he'd grown up in. Graffiti covered far more buildings than it should have.
Situated in the roughest side of Oakland, the place seemed to be a beacon. The fresh white paint blended into graffiti on one side, but this wasn't the kind from a teenager just trying to leave his mark on the world. Each section of the mural depicted different parts of the bay area, including the local high school and middle school.
He liked this place and the subtle way it was channeling that restless energy into something beautiful for the community. And he liked Charlotte a little more for volunteering here.
Adam hopped out of his SUV, and a buzz of excitement surged toward him. He'd come two hours early to help with setup and get a hands-on grasp of what she needed from him during the hour. He also knew it could take a while just to get through the crowd to the door.
Adam shook hands, signed shirts, cups and all manner of things, and gave sound bites to overeager journalists on the slow news day. He smiled through it all, and at least it was genuine with the kids who excitedly retold stories of his jukes and catches.
An hour later, he walked into the building, a handful of the kids trailing in front of him because they knew the way to Ms. West's class. The way was filled with inspirational posters on the walls, offices, and a side hallway that led to a gym. The other hallway led out back to a community garden.
They left him at a door, still buzzing with excitement. His brows rose at their departure. He tried the knob, and it twisted easily in his hand. So why did they give ghost?
Cautious, he stepped inside the room. Counters, stoves, and sinks were outfitted for the task to cook. It was as clean as the rest of the building, but the fresh scent of vegetables and spices filled the space.
And a sweet, musky tang that he hadn't been able to get out of his head for the past week brushed against his senses. How many times had he gotten lost in thought when her phantom scent had plagued him? Too many for having only met her once and talked to her twice. Apparently, it was more than enough fodder for his sex-starved body.
Charlotte stood with her back to him, going through bins of vegetables and sorting them into smaller plastic baskets.
“He'll be here in an hour. I swear,” she said on a laugh without turning around. “Just let me get prepared, and I'll wait with you guys outside.”
He'd be a liar if he complained about the view from behind. The last time he'd seen her, she'd donned the drabbest slacks, and still her figure had drawn his eyes to her hips and breast.
Today she wore a dress that hit the backs of her knees in a deep forest green that made her hair seem alight with gold, brown, and red strands. The frock fit tight all way down to the middle of her waist and then flared out. The soft material only highlighted the way her spine was a delicate curve that led to her supple ass.
His cock hardened and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. Six months was much, much too long to go without if a woman's back could get him revved. Some men weren't made to be monks. Adam sure as shit wasn't. What he wanted to do was cross the room, press his dick into the soft swell of her ass, and maybe nip the skin along her neck, just to claim her as his. Hell, just to taste her.
Rule. Number. Two.
No. Women.
Not even sweet ones, because once he fell off the wago
n, he would binge himself into a sexually satisfied coma.
“I like to be a man of my word, so I came early.” He rasped out gruffly, much lower than he'd intended.
The basket dropped as she whirled to face him. The dress fluttered up. A flash of green satin underwear made him want to both groan and chuckle. The tease of seeing that scanty triangle over her mound would haunt his dreams. But now he knew exactly the kind of woman she was. The kind who would make sure her panties matched her dress. Knowledge that made dying seem preferable if this was the kind of torture he had to look forward to.
He strode over to Charlotte since she still stood there, eyes wide while she panted. Her heavy breathing caused her tits to jiggle. Another moment of witnessing the latter and he'd suffer from vertigo.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he mumbled.
Her hands fluttered up then down and she shook her head. “Yeah.”
He narrowed his eyes. This was not the woman he'd talked to over the phone and in email. That Charlotte had been outspoken, maybe even chatty. He stopped a foot in front of her.
“Charlotte, are you okay?”
“Fine,” she squeaked, her eyes shifty. She bent to pick up the fallen vegetables and basket. “I'm fine,” she muttered.
He grasped her shoulders and drew her up so she couldn't hide her face. She lowered her head, bringing down a soft cascade of hair. A shame because he liked her ocean-blue eyes.
“Is this going to be the next two hours of my life?” he asked. “I say something and you give me a two-word sentence, if I'm lucky?” He really didn't want to touch her any more than he had to— they could go down a bad, bad road if he did—but the action seemed necessary.
Adam cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Breath gone. She could look straight through a man and see exactly who he was. He dropped his hand and stepped back, not wanting her to see all his exposed wounds.
“Let's make a deal,” Adam said.
“What?”
Another one-word reply. He smiled. “You treat me like I'm not famous and things should go smoothly.”
“Oh, no,” she said horrified. “It's not that. It's…” She pushed out a breath, her cheeks coloring. “No. It's exactly that. Your fame blinds me, and I don't know what to do when you're around?”
Pleasure warmed his blood. So it was just him that flustered her. “That sounded like a question. Not sure if I'm the one who is supposed to answer or if you are.”
She threw her head back and laughed. Her entire body fell into the simple action, from a slight shake in her shoulders to the wide smile that went along with it. When was the last time he enjoyed the way a woman laughed—hell, wanted to join her because the sound was pure joy? Adam craved to be a part of it. A selfish need, but he'd taken away all other vices for his career. He needed new ones anyway.
Adam reached up and brushed a thumb along her cheek. The laugh, then the smile, faded. It hadn't been that long that he no longer recognized the change in her stance, the way she parted her mouth, and how she looked at him. Attraction buzzed between them in the silence.
Touching her hadn't been the mistake. Deciding to spend time alone with her had been the misstep. Why did he think he had impulse control when all of his adult life was proof that he didn't?
“Charlotte,” his voice was tight, tense. “Say something unsexy.”
The tip of her tongue feathered over her top lip. “I love Zucchini?”
Yeah. He was screwed. Adam tilted her chin up and kissed her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Charlotte had been making an epic fool of herself. She thought she had prepared to see Adam again. No matter the method of communication, his personality seemed to come through strong. Charming when he wanted to be, exacting in the next moment, and then impatient.
Knowing that, still her safe guards failed. Because somehow, he was kissing her. Soft at first, as though he was testing the taste of her, how pliant her mouth was, or if that would be enough to satisfy him. If it was the latter, the answer appeared to be no. He stepped into her, using both hands to cup her face.
Her back pressed into the counter, but that was fine. All the firm, male heat of him flushed along her front. She didn't have to wonder how aroused he was by her—she felt the hard length of him against her belly, thick and stiff. Oh God. Temptation of every wanton desire pulsated in her limbs. A hot, liquid arousal soaked her panties.
This so wasn't like her. She went on dates and had weeks' worth of flirtation in person and on the phone before feeling the need to take things further. Kissing a man she'd met twice, in a room where she'd hold a class in a short amount of time—kiss a football player who was a well-known ladies man was so out of her norm. Still, she couldn't deny the wet heat between her thighs or the need for him to keep kissing her with such keen desire that made her melt into his embrace.
His tongue flicked along the corner of her mouth and then inside. She moaned, almost feeling the velvet caress along her sex. Charlotte wanted him. Right there in that room. That need pounded into her, and she groaned again—deeper, longer—then nipped at his tongue.
“I love the way you moan,” Adam murmured against her lips and then trailed his mouth to her neck.
He dropped his hands away from her face. Those big, rough palms worked their way down.
She gasped when his hand snaked beneath her dress then those thick fingers caressed her through her panties.
“Adam, touch me.”
Where was the woman who made every choice with clear, measured precision? She’d gotten lucky and made it out of her neighborhood. Mishap didn't follow her because she gave her contingency plans, contingency plans. Here she was, letting a man she barely knew touch her most intimate parts, explore them with slippery fingers after he'd made her wet with just his mouth.
“Spread your legs a bit more so I can… Just like that.”
His teeth scraped along her collarbone, but his fingers breached the band of her underwear. It didn't take him long to find the right way to flick his middle finger over her clit. She balled her hands into his shirt, her moans choppy.
“Yes.” His voice rumbled against her skin, making her nipples diamond hard. “Sing for me, Charlotte.”
Someone could hear her if they walked by the room. What kept anyone from coming in to check the progress? Instead of begging him to stop so she could think like a responsible adult and remind him level-headed people didn't do this, she rocked her hips into his hands. She just couldn't fix her lips to say those words, not when the fire he fanned blazed so deliciously in her stomach.
His mouth was back on hers anyway, swallowing her small cries of pleasure. Fear and lust mixed into a cocktail of something carnal that blocked out all else except the way he strummed her clit right into an orgasm.
She was unraveling, one cell at a time, the more he touched her, licked her. A tremble started between her legs and worked its way through the rest of her body until she was shuddering hard from the climax.
Adam deepened the kiss, muffling every sound she made. When the delicious wave of euphoria crashed down on her every sense and limb, she gripped his shirt for purchase. Not necessary because he held her to him. He broke the kiss, murmuring praise of how he loved the flush of her skin when she came.
The last of the quakes wrenched through her body. She leaned back on to the counter, using its support to stay upright, and met his gaze. His lids were low and his green eyes seemed to telegraph his every thought. Goodness. She moaned, wanting every wicked promise he made in the silence. If he could do this in a classroom, with limited time and being unprepared, what could he do to her in his bed? She ached to know.
“Charlotte, when this is done, I want you to come home with me. Need you to.”
The last three words cost him. She could hear that in the way he bit them out. Had she ever been needed? No. Had a man ever told her in so few words how much he wanted her?
Charlotte pawed around her thoughts for the right thing to say. The st
orm of his touch was still raging inside her. She needed an anchor—something, anything—to hold on to so she wouldn't drift away. She didn't date men like him for a reason. Promises of change were uttered, but men like Adam never meant them. Her heart couldn't take another break.
“I thought I was just sweet?” To her surprise, her voice rang out clear and strong. “You don't seem like a man who would need someone like me.”
His brows furrowed for a second then his gaze darkened as though he came up with an answer to her statement. Holding her stare, he slipped his middle finger between his lips. She could feel the groan rumble through him as he closed his eyes. He pressed closer to her, leaving no doubts or questions he'd meant need, not some other soft word. Nothing about him was soft while he tasted her come.
Adam included a deep hmmm sound when he pulled his finger from his mouth and opened his eyes. “So damn sweet.”
A timid knock at the door forced her to stagger away from him. Her fingers were unsteady as she tried to fix her clothes. Adam settled on one of the stools. The way he folded his hands over his lap told her it wasn't to look relaxed. He was hiding his erection. Pleasure fluttered in her stomach from knowing she hadn't been the only one to unravel.
The door opened. Charlotte wished she had a poker face. All she could do was wear a tight smile and put more space between herself and Adam. And pray she didn't look like he'd just given her an orgasm.
Eli poked his head in and then smiled when he saw her. He was tall, a bit gangly, and puberty had erupted the skin on his face into small pimples. Still, he was handsome. The way he beamed chased away her nerves and fear of being caught.
“I know you wanted time to prepare…” His gaze flicked to Adam. “I wanted to see if…”
Despite the hot fluster warming her skin, Charlotte laughed. “Yes, he's really here, Eli. Give me about thirty minutes, and then you guys can come in.”
Adam waved. “Hi, Eli.”
Eli sported the biggest grin. “Hey.” Then he disappeared out of the doorway.