Charli licked her lips. “It’s my day off. I...” She bit her lip, her gaze falling away for a brief second before she met his eyes dead on. “I thought maybe you and I could grab some lunch.”
From under hooded eyes, he watched her. “I don’t want lunch.”
“What do you want?”
He’d resisted her, resisted the insane pull he’d felt toward her since she was seventeen. But now she stood there, watching him with bold eyes and he knew he couldn’t resist her anymore.
Without saying a word, he pushed the door open wider.
Charli slid inside without saying a single word.
HER NEXT DAY OFF WAS Monday.
He was supposed to work until seven.
He’d given her a key to his house on her way outside and told her when he got off.
She’d just nodded.
They’d said nothing else, but as Shame drove home from B&B the following Monday, he knew she’d be there.
She’d come by B&B for lunch earlier and their eyes had met, lingered. But they hadn’t talked.
Con had given him a funny look.
But his best friend hadn’t said anything.
Still, that look had left him feeling uneasy and he knew sooner or later he’d have to end this. He couldn’t keep fucking Charli Steele. He didn’t know what she was getting out of it, unless she was just looking for the same dirty thrill a dozen—more—other women had come to him for, although that didn’t seem to fit with what he knew about Charli. He knew she thought she had a thing for him and maybe he should feel bad, taking advantage of that to slake the need he had for her.
And he did, whenever he wasn’t with her, or remember what it was like to be balls deep inside her.
Or when he wasn’t pulling his car around the back of the house to find hers already parked there.
She’d be inside, waiting for him.
At times like this, he didn’t have it in him to feel bad about needing to be with her.
It wouldn’t last. He knew that.
But damn if he wouldn’t enjoy it while it did.
Chapter Two
Charli
CHARLI LAY SPRAWLED underneath Max, his big, hard body pressing her into the mattress.
Shudders racked her.
He smoothed a hand up her hip, then down, a rare show of gentleness and she turned her face toward his just as he would have pulled away from her. Tightening her muscles, she clenched around him to try to keep him from withdrawing.
“Stay with me,” she murmured.
He was still hard inside her and a rough noise escaped him when she clenched around him again.
“Charli...”
“Stay,” she whispered.
He groaned, pushing up onto his knees and bracing a hand on the base of her spine. With a roll of his hips, he sent a rush of sensation washing through her, but then he pulled out.
She whimpered in denial, but her disappointment didn’t last. He went to his back and reached for her. “Come here, Charli,” he told her, pulling her on top of him.
She wasn’t used to the position and she settled on him awkwardly.
He reached down, taking his cock in one hand, holding himself steady as he stared up at her. “Take me in,” he ordered.
She did, slowly, bit by bit, watching his face as she merged their bodies.
He closed his eyes.
He so often did.
She tried not to let it bother her, but sometimes, like now, it did.
“Max...” Bracing her hands on his chest, she willed him to look at her.
It didn’t work.
She gave her body over to his instead, following the subtle urging of his body as he rocked upward and used his hands to guide her hips until they were moving as one.
He brought her to another quaking orgasm, and this time he finally let himself come as well.
When it ended, she sank down on him, keeping his cock tucked inside her body. Since she was on top, he’d have to move her to climb out of bed and leave her. She tried to pretend it meant they could have a few more minutes together, but she knew when he was ready to pull away, he would.
She was so tired of him pulling away.
Pushing up onto her elbows, she stared down at him and cupped his cheek. His lashes dipped, then rose as he met her eyes briefly.
“What are we doing here, Max?” she asked.
They’d been sleeping together for almost a month, hiding it, him coming to her on her days off or late in the evening when nobody would see, or asking her to be waiting at his place, like he’d done today.
“I’d think you’d have figured that out after the first climax, sugar,” he said, a sardonic smile curling his lips.
“Cute.” She made a face at him. Part of her told her to let it go before she chased him off. But she was tired of the sneaking around and she was tired of only getting snatches of time with him. She wanted more. “I’m serious, Max.”
A scowl tightened his features and she wasn’t surprised when he eased her body off his, then sat up. He got up and left the room briefly, disappearing through the door that led to the bathroom before returning. Tossing away the condom, no doubt. He came into the room, his long body naked.
He was lean, too lean. She suspected he’d been having nightmares again. Whenever things got too rough for him, he started skipping out on the things that lesser mortals seemed to need, like sleep and food. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d lost a good ten or fifteen pounds in the past year.
“I need to be getting some sleep,” he announced unceremoniously.
Wham, bam, you can go, ma’am, she thought sourly. She should have known better.
She sighed and threw her legs over the edge of the bed, but as she padded over to get her clothes, something made her stop.
Turning, she faced him.
“I’m tired of this,” she said bluntly.
He blinked at her, a slow sweep of thick lashes over incredibly beautiful eyes. “Then don’t come back.”
“That isn’t what I meant. You want to give me whatever I want sexually, but if I even hint at something more, you shut me out.” Her heart stuttered in her chest and she sucked in a breath, then blew it out in a rush before she said, “I love you, Max. I know you know that.”
“You don’t love me,” he bit off, anger flaring in his voice.
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” she snapped.
He stormed over to her and reached out, catching her behind the neck. Their bodies crashed together as he gave her one hard yank. “You love the fact that I can make you come, that I know how to make you scream yourself hoarse. You love how I lick your pussy and you love the way my dick feels inside your cunt. But you don’t love me, Charli.”
She shoved him.
He didn’t let go.
“You want me to show you the kind of man you’re claiming to love?”
“I don’t claim to love you,” she sneered at him. “I know how I feel. If it scares you, then too bad.”
“Little girl, you don’t know what scared is.” He finally let her go, backing up as he raked her up and down with a cool look.
If she was smart, she would have felt a little bit of trepidation at his look, but she was getting pissed herself. Although she really didn’t think Max was pissed off—he was the one who was scared. Scared and about to start running scared.
“I should have expected this,” she said tightly. “You feel something, too. If you didn’t, you’d be happy to just keep on fucking me. But you feel something—for once—and that scares the shit out of you.”
He prowled closer and leaned in, his nose only inches from hers.
“What I feel is called lust. I’m familiar with it, Charli. It kind of eats me up inside and has most of my life. I’m pretty shameless about it, remember?”
He caught her face in one big hand, crowding her against the wall.
“Or have you forgotten who it is you’re with?”
He spoke with his cheek pres
sed to hers, his lips only an inch from her ear. “Do I need to remind you?”
“I know who I’m sleeping with, thanks.”
“Fucking,” he whispered. “You know who you’re fucking. Say it.”
“I know who I’m fucking, you asshole.”
“Good.” He carried her back over to the bed and tossed her down on it. A moment later, he was sprawled on top of her. He grabbed a condom and pulled it on, then he was inside her.
Charli gasped in shock at the swiftness of the invasion, then reached for him, but he caught her wrists and pinned them down over her head. “Still feeling safe, Charli?” he demanded, twisting his hips.
She shuddered.
His mouth covered hers in a deep, bruising kiss.
Charli didn’t understand entirely where the fury had come from, but while some part of her was reacting, the other part, the part of her that had loved Max for most of her life, knew that if she let the fury drive the train, it was all over.
Submission was against her nature, but she went lax under him, yielding to that bruising kiss, and when he lifted his head to stare at her, she just licked her lips and waited for more.
Because he wasn’t done.
“Who is fucking you, Charli?” he asked, moving higher on her body, riding her clit with every slow drag of his hips.
“You are,” she whispered.
“Say it. Say my name.”
“Max.”
But he shook his head.
“You’re Max to me,” she whispered, flexing her hands in his grip.
“But that’s not who I am.” He twisted his hips and she cried out as the head of his cock butted up against that buried bundle of nerves deep in her pussy.
“Shame.” She closed her eyes against the misery inside.
“Fuck, yeah. Don’t forget it.” And he set about doing his best to make sure he imprinted that on her brain.
SHE HOPED THEY’D FIX it.
It had been almost a week since she’d talked to Max. She’d sent him several texts and he’d responded to a couple, but his answers were terse to the point of rudeness.
Much like he had been before.
Too much like he’d been before.
Although she was dragging with exhaustion, when Saturday night finally rolled around, she changed into jeans and a cute top in the locker room at work, determined to go to Ballz & Bellz and find him.
They’d have it out, she decided.
Then they’d go back to her place—his, if he insisted—and screw like minks.
She had no doubt of her ability to push him into a good, old-fashioned fight. Charli was nothing if not infuriating.
She was running on fumes when she walked into the pub and decided she’d avoid any alcohol since she wanted to stay awake for the upcoming fight.
She never doubted there would be one, either. She was almost looking forward to it, clearing the air so to speak.
The prospect energized her enough that she had a bit of a spring in her step as she pushed through the crowd, searching for that familiar head of golden-brown hair.
She finally spied it and headed in that direction.
But she froze before she’d made it more than a few feet.
Max had his arms around another woman.
They stood half in, half out of the back hallway, caught in a mix of light and shadow, but there was no mistaking what she was seeing. She recognized her—she couldn’t remember the name, but the woman had just moved to Bardstown. A teacher, Charli thought.
The woman was a teacher.
But it looked like Max was the one in charge as he bent his head and ran his mouth down the woman’s exposed neck.
Somebody bumped into Charli and she stumbled, thrown off balance.
Glancing over, she saw one of the servers balancing a tray full of drinks in one hand.
“Hey there, Charli,” he said. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
She didn’t know what pushed her to do it. Whether it was because Max had ignored her all week and was now cozying up to somebody else, whether one had a greater effect than the other, but something inside her snapped and she grabbed a glass of water from the tray the server held. Dimly, she recalled his name was Marco and she mouthed Sorry to him before diving into the crowd, angling toward that hall once more.
Marco shouted after her, but she ignored him, intent on her destination.
And her target.
She was less than three feet away when Max finally took notice of her. Although he’d probably been aware of her for longer. He didn’t let people sneak up on him. He just pretended not to be aware of her. She gave him a simpering smile as he eyed her, his face emotionless, like he wasn’t standing there with his arms full of another woman.
Without blinking, she threw the water at them both.
She might feel guilty about that later.
But she doubted it.
The woman jerked back, gasping. “What the hell—”
She spun around, facing Charli.
“Get lost,” Charli said in a cold voice.
“Who the fuck are you?” she demanded. She plucked her wet shirt away from her skin and shot Max a look. “Shame, who is this?”
“Nobody you need to worry about, Carmen. But maybe you should go.”
“I thought...”
“Go on, Carmen,” Max said, not looking away from Charli’s face.
Carmen turned away in a huff and Charli didn’t watch her go.
Instead, she headed past Max, striding toward the back porch, knowing he’d follow.
“Why didn’t you just have the balls to tell me that we were done?” she asked when the door swung open behind her a few minutes later.
“Done?” He snorted. “You make it sound like we ever had a serious thing going. But we didn’t, Charli. It was sex.”
Woodenly, she turned and faced him. “Is that the lie you’ve told yourself?”
“Don’t make up fairytales about what we were doing—” he started.
“Shut up!” she hissed. Taking a step toward him, she tried to control the shaking that threatened to take over her entire body. “Just shut up. It was more than that and you know it.”
“It was more than that because you wanted it to be, maybe.” He hitched up a shoulder in a shrug. “So, it was more than that for you. But that’s all it was. And...yeah, it’s over.”
She gaped at him as he turned back to the bar.
“Just...you... It’s over? Just like that?”
“Come on, Charli,” he said, shaking his head as he glanced back at her. “Did you think we were going to have some happy ever after? I’m me. You’re...” He waved a hand at her. “You’re you. Besides, your brothers would kick my ass if they ever found out.”
“You coward.” She choked out the word, having to force it, because her throat had gone tight on her. It hurt even to breathe.
He shrugged. “If that makes this easier for you.”
She just shook her head and turned on her heel. She took off running.
She didn’t look back.
If she had, she might have seen the way Max’s face crumpled.
But Charli refused to let herself look back...ever again.
Chapter Three
Mexico
Charli
CHARLOTTE STEELE HAD her toes in the sand and a tropical drink in hand.
It was straight out of a Jimmy Buffet song, but she wasn’t exactly in paradise.
Her heart ached.
Her body wasn’t feeling much better.
Logically, she knew, after what she’d been through the past few days, the last thing she’d needed to do was take off for parts unknown—or, Playa del Carmen, to be exact. Hauling a carryon, even one as light as her own, and all the walking had been enough to make her almost pass out.
The doctors had said to take it easy.
But she’d had to get away.
Absently, Charli slid a hand down her side and gingerly probed the tender area on her a
bdomen. She’d checked the dressing and the wound that morning. It wasn’t red and there were no signs of infection, so she knew she hadn’t done any major damage. She’d just exhausted herself.
She’d already been exhausted and rundown on top of it, though.
What was a little more exhaustion?
Her phone chirped and she picked it up, lifting her sunglasses to better read the message in the bright sun.
All she could make out was the name, but that was enough.
She dropped it back down on the lounge next to her thigh.
Her brothers, or Riley’s girlfriend Bree, had been taking turns calling and texting her.
She’d only talked to one person—Con’s new girlfriend, Shawntelle. And nobody knew she’d been talking to Shawntelle.
The two of them had struck up an odd, and fast, friendship via Facebook and secrets Charli hadn’t ever shared had come pouring out of her as she chatted with the other woman.
She didn’t know why she found it so easy to talk to Shawntelle.
It didn’t even matter.
She only knew that for once she wasn’t burying an entire life’s worth of longing and secrets deep inside.
Since the message was from Riley, she left it alone.
She’d text him later, once she went inside to escape the sun for a while.
She already knew what he wanted anyway.
She wasn’t ready to give him an answer about when she was coming home, and she definitely wasn’t ready to tell him what was going on, so there was no need to rush into that mess.
“Would you like another drink, senorita?”
She squinted into the sunshine as one of the waiters paused by her seat. She’d learned the deal early on—she gave the first waiter who served her a ten-dollar tip to make sure he switched out alcohol for water every other drink, and kept the liquids coming.
She hadn’t come down here for anything other than to forget about the past few weeks, and the only way to do that was to keep her brain well-lubricated.
“Yes, Jorge. Please. Thank you,” she replied in the stilted Spanish she’d picked up. As he moved off toward the small structure that served as the bar, she shifted her eyes back to the incredible blue of the water.
F*CK CLUB_SHAME Page 3