by Ivy Layne
I couldn't imagine Charlie agreeing to marry someone she didn't love. She was too headstrong, too focused. She'd never commit the rest of her life to someone she didn't really want to be with.
She'd be tired of him before the ink was dry on the marriage license.
"Well, technically, number four wasn't an engagement. Neither was number three. If he hadn't taken the call in the middle of proposing, I still wouldn't have said yes. He was fun and a nice guy, but I didn't love him.
"But the first two guys . . . I did think I was in love with them. I was too young, I think. Looking back, I cared about them and they were important to me, but I don't think it was really love. Not the kind that lasts."
"You want a beer?" I asked, changing the subject.
At her nod, I snagged the discarded takeout box and went to go get us two beers. Charlie's answer to my questions left me feeling oddly deflated. I don't know what I wanted to hear, but her lack of hope was depressing.
It wasn't that I thought marriage was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I hadn't seen a single example worth repeating when I was growing up.
Watching my mother with my stepfather was enough to sour me on the idea of marriage for life. I had no intention of ever finding a wife.
But Charlie . . . the idea of Charlie turning her back on marriage, on family—it just felt wrong. I toyed with the idea of looking up those first two fiancés, the ones who really hurt her.
I knew she wouldn't thank me if I did, but I was keeping the idea on the back burner. I didn't like the idea of some golf-playing dickhead breaking Charlie's heart.
I went back into the room to find Charlie curled up exactly as I'd left her, her un-scraped cheek resting on her knees, arms wrapped around her shins.
Handing her a beer, I set mine on the floor unopened and said,
"I need to run next door and change and grab a few things. I'll be right back.”
"K."
I didn't like leaving her alone in her house, even behind locked doors. If she'd had a first-aid kit, I wouldn't have bothered going home, but she needed some ointment on that cheek and the raw spot where her hair had been yanked out.
I'd done my best to clean her wounds, but she'd hit the dirt hard, grinding soil into her opened skin. She'd heal better if I took care of it the right way.
I was back a few minutes later, staying next door only long enough to trade my tuxedo for gym shorts and a T-shirt and grab my first aid kit. I let myself back into Charlie's house, locked the door behind me, and rechecked the windows and doors on the first floor to make sure the house was secure.
I'd feel better when she had that security system in.
"Stay just like that," I said when I found her sitting in the same position. "I need to clean your face again."
Unzipping my first aid kit, I grabbed the disinfectant spray, antibacterial ointment, and a band-aid for her temple.
"What the hell do you have in there?" Charlie asked.
I followed her glance to my kit. I was so used to it that the size didn't seem weird. To a civilian, it must've looked like serious overkill.
The size of a small duffel bag, it had everything I needed to handle almost any injury. I'd trained in the Army as a field medic, among other things, and my skills had grown out of necessity in the years since.
I tried to answer her question without freaking her out.
"Just stuff. Band-aids, antibacterial spray, ointment, butterfly bandages, sutures. Stuff."
I could tell by the piercing look she gave me that Charlie wasn't buying my explanation, but she didn't push.
Quietly, she let me spread ointment on her cheek and temple, then pull down the shoulder of her T-shirt to check for bruising.
Her eyelids drooped. Between the adrenaline crash after the attack and her full stomach, I knew she was ready to pass out.
I got two ibuprofens out of the kit and handed them to her. The low hum of a car engine pulled up to the house.
"Take these and meet me in the kitchen," I said. "Brennan is here."
CHAPTER TEN
LUCAS
Brennan had his hand raised to knock on the door when I swung it open. He looked the same as always—button-down shirt, blazer, tie a little loose. His dark brown hair hung a fraction too long and always slightly out of place.
Friendly brown eyes disguised a sharp brain. I'd seen Detective Ryan Brennan at five a.m., five p.m., and every time in between. He was always the same.
I could've pulled him from his desk or from his bed and it wouldn't matter. I didn't trust many people, but Ryan Brennan was on my short list.
"You gonna tell me what's going on?" he asked in a low tone. Charlie stepped out of the hall and into the kitchen, the overhead light harsh, glaring down on the raw wounds on the side of her face.
"Holy shit," Brennan said. "You're in it this time, Jackson."
"Charlie Winters," I said, crossing the room to stand beside Charlie. "This is Detective Ryan Brennan. You tell him what happened, and he'll get it on record."
Charlie looked up at me with startled eyes. I couldn't stop myself from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear so it didn't get caught in the ointment on her cheek.
"You're sure I can trust him?" She whispered.
"I'm sure."
Charlie shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and told Brennan everything that had happened, including the cigarette butt she'd found by the back door and the intruder she'd thought she'd imagined.
That revelation had me fighting for control of my temper, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. She was under enough stress as it was. I wasn't going to make it worse.
As she spoke, she leaned into me, letting me support her weight. I wrapped an arm around her, ignoring Brennan's curious eyes.
He took notes and assured Charlie no one would find out anything unless it became unavoidable. As soon as they were done, I sent Charlie to get ready for bed and walked Brennan out.
"So, is she a job?" Brennan asked before he left.
"Next-door neighbor," I answered, deliberately leaving out the details.
Brennan met my eyes with a knowing look and stared me down.
"Next-door neighbor and a friend," I clarified.
That was all he was getting. Anything else was between Charlie and me. I wasn't going to make her a target of gossip, even with a man I trusted.
Knowing I was full of shit, Brennan shook his head, but he let me get away with it. Before he left, he said in a low voice that wouldn't carry down the hall, "Keep sharp. The Winters family are good people, but they're trouble, and that girl is way above your pay grade. Don't let whatever mess is swirling around her take you down with it."
"I've got this," I lied as I locked the door behind him.
It was only half a lie. As far as Charlie's safety was concerned, I did have it under control. I'd talk to whichever Sinclair showed up to put in her system, and we'd get her security settled.
If she was smart and used her head, I could keep her safe.
The rest of it?
Brennan was right.
She was way fucking out of my league. I had no business being friends with a woman like Charlotte Winters, much less claiming a place in her bed.
Too fucking bad. Now that I'd had a taste of Charlie, I wasn't giving her up. Not until I had to.
Charlie was in bed when I got back, wearing some kind of strappy sleep top. I couldn't miss the blooming bruise on her shoulder. If I looked, I knew I'd find another on her hip. They matched the skin on her cheek that hadn't been scraped raw.
If I'd had a target to punish for touching her, they'd be dead.
I stripped off my shorts and T-shirt, leaving them on the floor beside the futon, and slid in beside her. My ego loved the regret in her eyes as she took in my mostly exposed body then realized she was too sore for sex.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, I said, "Maybe in the morning, Princess. I'm exhausted and you're too beat up to do all the work."
; As I'd meant her to, she smiled.
The smile drooped, her lips wobbled, and she looked away, saying in a thin, nervous voice, "I'm okay. You don't have to stay since we're not . . . you know. You can go home. I don't want you to feel like—"
Her unease was cute, but I put her out of her misery.
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you to sleep here alone after you got jumped. Just close your eyes and go to sleep. We'll see about fucking in the morning."
I tried not to like the way her cheeks went pink when I said 'fucking'.
"I usually sleep on the outside," she said, rolling onto her un-bruised side and trying to get comfortable with the wall blocking her in.
"I'll move the futon away from the wall tomorrow," I said, "but for now, I stay between you and that door."
"Okay," she whispered.
A slow blink, then another, and she was asleep.
I lay beside her, listening to the house settle, alert for any creak, any thump, anything that sounded out of the ordinary.
I was more comfortable than I wanted to be with her warm body tucked up against mine, smelling of fruit and flowers and Charlie.
I never spent the night with women.
Ever.
I liked having a bed to myself. I didn't like clinging or the kind of expectations you created when you were there for breakfast.
I liked to fuck and go.
Tonight, I didn't even get a fuck, and there I was falling asleep with a woman for the first time in my life. After all these years, the surprise wasn't that I was sleeping with a woman, but how right she felt in my arms.
I woke before dawn to find myself wrapped around Charlie, one leg between her thighs, my arm over her waist, my hand under her sleep shirt, holding her bare breast.
I was already hard, my cock pressing into her soft ass. I wanted Charlie, but I was going to wait. She needed sleep, not for some horny asshole to wake her up before sunrise for a fuck.
I had a thousand things I should do. Get up and get in a workout. Run next door to grab my laptop and see what was in my queue.
A lot of my jobs were in the field, but more of them used my strongest skill set, one that only needed a computer and a connection to the Internet.
I didn't move. I wasn't ready to wake Charlie, but that was only part of it. As much as I tried to think of reasons to get up, I couldn't seem to drag myself from her bed.
She shifted in her sleep, grinding her soft ass into my cock. I pushed back, just a little, the heat between her legs so enticing my head spun.
I could be patient. I'd learned how to wait a long time ago. Nothing worth having came easy, anyway. I closed my eyes. The sun would be up soon enough.
Reaching behind me, I felt for the box on the floor beside the futon. My fingers tagged the lid and I snagged a condom, sliding it under my pillow before I let myself fall into a light doze.
I didn't make my move until I felt Charlie shift against me, her body slowly coming awake.
My turn.
My fingers, still wrapped around her breast, tightened and slid to her nipple, squeezing and rolling with a firm pressure that had her squirming that soft ass against my rock hard cock.
It was a simple matter to push up her flimsy nightshirt, pull her top leg over mine, and tug her thong out of the way.
In this position, her pussy was completely open to me. I took full advantage, skating my fingertips over her, circling lightly.
I let out a groan when I discovered she was ready for me. I pressed one finger inside, my cock surging in demand as her slick heat closed around me.
Patience, motherfucker, I reminded myself, working the condom on my cock. She was bruised and battered, and when she got out of bed, she'd realize how stiff she was.
She didn't need me slamming into her. A second finger joined my first, dipping in and out, my thumb teasing her clit. Holding her open, I nudged my cock forward until just the head was inside. My breath caught in my chest at the tight clasp of her body on mine.
Nothing felt like fucking Charlie.
So sweet.
I buried my face in her hair and rocked deeper, filling her in degrees, our bodies barely moving.
"Touch your pussy for me," I whispered against her neck, taking her hand and leading it between her legs, pressing her fingers to her clit and rolling them in a circle.
I could feel the heat of her blush, but she did it. I slid my hand up her body, tracing a circle around her bellybutton and along her ribs until I reached her breasts.
Her nipples were tight and hard. I plucked at them, teasing and pulling, loving the way her body clamped down on my hard length as I fucked her, deep and slow. She ground back into me, gasping my name.
"Lucas, oh my God, Lucas."
"Shh, baby. Just let it come. I'm going to take care of you. Just let it come."
Instinct told me to roll her onto her stomach, lift her by her hips until she was on her knees, and pound into her until we both exploded.
Another day, I would. Not this time. This time, she needed gentle. Charlie moved against me restlessly, pushing back into my cock, trying to take me deeper.
"Be still," I said, pulling her leg high and back, opening her body wide to mine. I moved her hand from her pussy and slid mine in its place, whispering, "Just let me. I've got you, Charlie."
I was fucking ready to come, the slide and clasp of her hot pussy driving me out of my mind. I pressed and rolled my fingers into her clit over and over until her body went stiff, her back arching, her hips thrusting into mine in one long surge as her muscles tightened in orgasm.
Finally, I let go, filling her in a release that left me drained and oddly weak.
I stayed there, holding her, breathing in the fruity floral scent of her hair and skin as her body relaxed around mine.
"Good morning," she said, sounding only half-awake, her voice husky and low.
"Morning."
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Probably a little after seven," I answered. I hadn't looked at my phone or my watch, but I didn't need to. I could tell by the light outside the window. "What time is the security team getting here?"
"Shit, seven thirty or eight," she said, starting to pull away from me. I didn't want to let her go, but we both needed to get up.
"Stay there. Don't move."
I rolled out of the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. Taking a washcloth from the pile on the back of the sink, I wet it with warm water and brought it to her, saying, "I'm gonna jump in the shower, won't take me a minute."
It would've been more gentlemanly to let her have the bathroom first, but I knew from experience that I'd take less than five minutes in the shower and she would undoubtedly take a lot longer. This way, I could get dressed and start making coffee while she took her time getting ready.
With her bruises, she'd need a long, hot shower far more than I did.
Charlie stood outside the bathroom door when I opened it. I started to apologize for making her wait when she reached up to place a palm on either side of my face and pulled my mouth down to hers.
The kiss was long, slow, and sweet. Her fingers slid into my hair, tugging me closer, her lips feeding from mine in delicate sips, tasting my lower lip, then the top before fitting her mouth to mine and driving her tongue deep. It was all I could do to let her take the lead when every instinct drove me to wrap her in my arms and devour her.
She pulled back, grinned up at me, and said, "Thanks for the wake-up fuck. Will you make coffee while I'm in the shower?"
"I'm on it," I said, a little thrown by her grin and the tender kiss.
She's not your girlfriend, I reminded myself. I know. I know she's not my girlfriend.
But that was not a fuck buddies kiss.
That was something else.
I put the kiss out of my mind. I had other things to focus on than kissing Charlie. My cock didn't agree, but that fucker was going to have to wait his turn. He'd gotten first dibs today, and now his need
s were at the bottom of the list.
Aware that the security team was going to be all over the house, I pulled the sheet up on the futon and straightened the pillows, hiding the box of condoms behind one leg of the frame.
I wasn't ashamed of fucking Charlie, and I didn't think she was embarrassed about me, but I didn't want her exposed to gossip. I got dressed in the shorts and T-shirt I'd put on the night before and went to make coffee.
Evers Sinclair was early. I should have expected it. Charlie Winters was as good as family.
I opened the door when he knocked, fighting amusement as he eyed me up and down, scowled, and said, "Lucas fucking Jackson. What the hell are you doing in Charlie's house?"
"I live next-door, asshole," I said, stepping back to let him in. And because I knew it would irritate him, "Coffee?"
"Yeah. Where's Charlie?" he demanded, following me down the hall into the kitchen, his eyes sweeping every inch of the foyer and what was visible of the dining room and living room. "What the hell is up with this house? Is it going to fall down on her head?"
"Hey, Evers," Charlie said, coming down the hall and walking into the kitchen. "You're early."
"What the fuck happened to your face?" The bruise beneath the red scrape on Charlie's cheek had bloomed into an ugly blue-purple overnight and a bright white bandage covered the raw spot on her temple where the asshole had pulled out her hair.
Evers whirled to face me. "What the fuck did you do to her?"
His arm flew back, ready to strike. Before he could swing, Charlie jumped between us. I slung an arm around her waist and shoved her behind me, catching Evers's arm in one hand.
"He didn't do this, Evers," Charlie said from behind me. "Back off."
Evers wrenched his arm from my hand and dropped it to his side, eyeing me like he was still thinking about hitting me.
"Step out from behind Jackson and look me in the eye while you tell me he had nothing to do with this."
Charlie tried to move away from me. I wound my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my side. She'd known Evers her entire life, but he was a little too volatile right now.
I wasn't letting Charlie get between us. I could feel her thinking, then she settled into my side. Smart girl.