by Gina Azzi
My hands encircle her hips and I squeeze.
She sighs, partly in relief, partly in desire, and drags my mouth back to hers.
Under Charlie’s touch, all rational thoughts flee, and I’m left with the moment, with her. My right hand kneads her ass cheek until she hitches a leg around my waist. I take advantage of the new angle, lifting her onto the island countertop. Eye level, I have easier access to trail kisses down the column of her neck. She moans, her ankles hooking behind my back as she tugs me closer. My dick, already hard, grinds against her core and we both groan.
“Charlie, are you sure?” I ask, pulling back an inch to check that she’s really okay with this.
“Evan, yes.”
She’s gorgeous, otherworldly even. With her head dropped back, the ends of her blonde hair trailing along the countertop, the pulse in her neck quivering, I can’t stop myself from leaning over her until her back presses into the unforgiving countertop and my body shadows her.
Her eyes are wide when they slam into mine, vulnerability flickering in their depths. My hand trails up her stomach, between the valley of her breasts, stopping at the base of her throat as we both heave, trying to regulate our breathing.
“Tell me you want this,” I murmur, my desperation hanging in the space between us.
But I am desperate. It’s been more than three goddamn years since I’ve had her and in that time, I thought I lost her for good. This moment, it’s like a gift from God, and I’m almost too scared to take it. After Sophie, I swore I’d never chase a woman again, and right now, I’m ready to swallow all my words if I can just catch Charlie.
“I want you,” she breathes out. “Evan, I want this.”
Her words work through my body like fire, burning my past mistakes, scorching all my failures as a husband, as a dad, until they disintegrate. But it’s more than her words; it’s the unwavering resolve with which she says them that has me pulling off her shirt and popping the button on her jeans.
Clad in an electric blue lace bra that speaks to her fun-loving side, she’s laid out before me like a damn feast. Her nipples, hard and dusty-rose, peek through the lace, and I zero in on them, my mouth watering. My finger hooks around one of the straps and slides it off her shoulder. “I like this color,” I murmur, my voice low.
Her breath hitches in response, goosebumps pebbling her skin as I slide off the other strap. She reaches up and makes quick work of the buttons on my shirt, and I slide out of it, letting it drop to the floor. Charlie’s hands are hot as they drag up my arms and wrap around my biceps, pulling me closer.
I can feel her eyes on my face and I look up, meeting her gaze head-on the way I avoided in the past. Whatever she reads in my expression causes tenderness to flare in her features. Easing her vulnerability eases my worry that she’s making a mistake. I grasp her hand and press a kiss to the underside of her wrist before dipping my head and flicking my tongue over her lace-clad nipple. Her back arches slightly, and my hand shifts to her thigh, holding her in place as I suck her breast into my mouth.
Even her breasts are fucking sweet. I close my eyes, thinking of the sweetest part of her body, needing to know how much she desires me. My hands peel her jeans down her thighs, over her knees, until they bunch around her calves, and she kicks them off. When my knuckles brush against her core, I feel the dampness of her need and swear, dragging my mouth across her chest to fasten on her other nipple.
Her hands grip my head, hugging me to her chest as I lave my tongue over her nipple and slide my fingers along the lace of her panties, dragging the material over her clit and using the friction of the lace to drive her arousal higher.
“Jesus,” she breathes out, her nails digging into the back of my neck.
Fuck. This. I pause, pulling back. My heart hammers in my chest as I take in the hunger in her eyes, knowing they match mine.
“Need to taste you,” I throw out by way of explanation as I tug her panties straight off her hips, letting them drop to the floor. My right hand kneads her left breast as I dip my head again and flick my tongue up her center.
Her knees fall open, and I hook her legs over my shoulders as I nibble a path over her most sensitive part, working her higher in tiny increments until she whispers my name and shatters around me. Biting her inner thigh, I glance at her, but her gaze is trained on the lighting fixture over the island.
“Charlie.” I pop the button on my pants, my dick ready to break through the fucking material.
“Please, Evan.” She practically whimpers, and I’m wound too damn tight to do anything other than grip her hips and pull her to the edge of the countertop.
“Look at me,” I command, needing to see her eyes before I push into her.
She glances at me, the blue of her eyes dark, glittering like sapphires.
“Fuck,” I swear at the desperate need in her gaze. “I need to grab a condom.” My fingers squeeze the tops of her thighs.
She winces and wraps a hand around my wrist, stopping me. “I’m on the pill. And clean.”
“I’m clean too.” I frown. “You sure?”
“Yes, do it.”
I swear again, my pants pooling to the floor as I line up with her entrance and push inside.
And holy hell, it’s like sliding home. She pulses around me, and I see goddamn stars. My hands glide up to her hips as I rock into her, setting a pace so damn relentless and needy and fucking frantic. She writhes on my countertop, and I take everything she gives me until we’re both crying out, and I’m releasing inside of her, too sated to even care that I just crossed every fucking line I ever drew, and she erased any space she gained.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dropping my head to her shoulder as I slide out of her. Grabbing a dish towel, I pass it to her so she can clean herself up.
Giving her some privacy, I turn away. My body is sated and still, a restless kind of energy hums through me. What did that mean? What happens now? I stride to the doors that lead to the backyard and stare into the darkness, my thoughts tripping over each other.
What the hell is wrong with me, taking Charlie on the damn kitchen island? She deserves silk sheets and candles, not hard quartz and harsh light.
But fuck how amazing was that?
I blow out a deep breath. I haven’t been celibate over the last three years, far from it. But no one has ever come close to Charlie.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to clear my head.
Seeing Charlie again is fucking with me. It’s making me want all the things I locked away after she left.
My thoughts tumble over each other, my hands practically shaking.
I just need to—
“Evan?” Charlie clears her throat and I turn, dropping my hand.
“You okay?” I ask, my brow furrowing as I take in the wariness of her expression.
Her blue eyes are large, a strand of hair clamped between her lips. She’s nervous. The confident woman who begged me to make her feel has disappeared, shrinking into herself like a turtle into its shell.
Already dressed in her jeans and sweater, her fingers fiddle with the hem while I stand before her, completely naked.
I frown, stepping toward her, but she backs up and I halt, my confusion morphing into concern. “Charlie?”
“I, um,—” Her eyes bounce around the kitchen like she can’t bear to look at me.
Moments ago, we fucked on the countertop, and it was heady and sensual and so damn intense I couldn’t think straight. I made her feel every fucking thing she whimpered for, and she stripped me completely bare until I forgot my own name.
But now, in the aftermath, the harsh memories of our past coupled with the confusion of now seeps into the space between us, offering us a new lens by which to dissect our actions.
Does she regret it? Does she wish it never happened?
Did I cross a line I don’t know about?
“Charlie, talk to me.”
Her gaze darts toward the front door. “I
should go.”
“Wait a minute.” I reach out to her as my phone beeps next to the sink. Glancing at the screen to make sure it’s not Ollie, I ignore it as soon as Frankie Esposito’s name registers in my mind. I swear, he’s going to drive me to fucking drink with his constant bullshit. Sometimes, I think he deserves to be locked up for being such a goddamn idiot.
“I’m going to head out,” Charlie says, shouldering her purse.
“Hang on a sec.” I grip her shoulder and spin her, so I can read her expression. “We should talk.”
“Talk?”
“Yeah.” I gesture toward the kitchen island as I bend down to pick up my pants and slip them back on. “That was—”
“Unexpected,” she supplies, her tone dry.
“That too.”
Charlie averts her gaze.
“You can’t just walk out of here, Charlie.”
“Why not?” She snorts, indignation heavy in the sound.
“We consumed a lot of liquor, babe. And that—”
“I’ll call an Uber.”
“Stay the night.”
She chuckles now, shaking her in disbelief. The irony is not lost on me. The entire time we dated, I never asked her to spend the night. Not once. I was always too worried about what Ollie would think if a woman, even one he adored as much as Charlie, showed up at the breakfast table. Plus, I knew she was eventually going to leave and part of me was trying to protect myself, my son, and her from the heartbreak we all experienced anyway.
But now, now that we’re absolutely nothing except two consenting adults who just christened my kitchen island, I’m practically begging her to stay.
“You can take the guest room. Or my room. Whatever you want. But I don’t feel right about you just leaving after you drank so much and we just…please stay.”
She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip and nods once. “I’ll take the guest room.”
“Okay.” I reach out tentatively to take her hand but drop my hand at the last minute. I tilt my head toward the stairs and Charlie follows me.
Opening the door to the guest room, I step back so she can enter. “There’s an en suite with towels and toiletries. Help yourself to anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Charlie, I—”
“It’s fine.”
“I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Tonight was, well, it was great. Even before the sex. I missed you, missed talking to you.”
She avoids my eyes, nodding along to my words.
“Do you want to talk?” I try again, hoping she’ll let me in on whatever is swirling in her head.
“Nah, I’m just, I’m tired. I think I’ll crash. Thank you, Evan. For tonight.” She offers me a half-smile that I don’t believe for a second.
“Charlie—”
“Really, it’s all good. We’re cool.” She steps to the door and grips the handle.
I take the hint and step back. She closes the bedroom door with a soft click. I hang in the hallway for a few minutes, trying to collect my thoughts, trying to make sense of everything that just happened.
Charlie and I hooked up and it was amazing.
What the hell happened?
Why is she erecting a wall after we destroyed the last one?
Sighing, I walk down the hallway into my bedroom, intent on having a real, adult conversation with Charlie in the morning.
But when I wake up, she’s already gone.
8
Charlie
“You had sex with him!” Zoe announces to the entire restaurant.
“Shh.” I dip my head, embarrassed.
“Seriously, pregnancy has made you louder.” Harlow, my good friend, points at Zoe.
“No it hasn’t,” Zoe says, defensively.
“It really has,” Harlow replies, taking a long gulp of her iced coffee, even though it’s below freezing outside.
“I’m glad you’re here.” I glance at Harlow who is doing the long-distance thing with her boyfriend, Connor. She flew in from L.A. this morning to spend the Christmas holidays and it’s obvious. “Despite my being green with envy that you’re tan and I look like Casper, I’m glad you can back me up on this. You’re loud.” I look at Zoe.
She rolls her eyes. “Stop changing the subject. Even though Evan is my brother-in-law and it’s a little weird, you’re my best friend so…you guys had sex?” she stage whispers.
Harlow snorts and I sigh, shoveling a forkful of pancakes into my mouth.
“How was it?” Harlow asks curiously.
“Amazing,” I admit. “Intense. Passionate. Hot as hell.”
Harlow’s mouth drops open, and Zoe leans closer across the table.
“What?” I ask them, picking up my hot chocolate.
“Holy shit. That’s like…more than just hey-it’s-good-to-see-you-again sex.” Harlow closes her mouth.
“It was just sex. That’s all there ever was between Evan and me. Good, really, really good, blazing hot sex.” I deflect by taking a long sip of my hot chocolate. But God, the sex was more than just casual sex. It was heady and overwhelming and for a stretch of time, I lost myself in Evan Holt as completely as I did the first time. I couldn’t come up for air if I wanted to. I was consumed by him, a prisoner to his touch, held captive and captivated by the heat in his eyes.
And then, he pulled out of me and walked away, grumbling to himself. The sight of his dropped shoulders and bowed head as the moonlight lit up his silhouette was like a punch to the gut. It reminded me what I already knew: Evan and I are great at sex. We suck at everything else.
I lost myself to the sensations he effortlessly pulls from my body. I forgot myself in the deep rumble of his voice. I was transported to the past.
But when the moment was over and the spell broke, I was quickly reminded just how hurtful that past was. I hated that I had to accept his guest room but he was right, I wasn’t in any condition to head home alone. But the second I was, you better bet your ass I was tiptoeing down his floating staircase to meet my Uber driver, Devin, who graciously ran through a McDonald’s drive thru.
“Charlie,” Zoe says, drawing my attention back to my friends and the impromptu brunch I invited them to after I showered and made myself look presentable. “You need to talk to him.”
“About what?”
Harlow chuckles.
“Evan’s not in a great place. He’s super overwhelmed by—”
“Some case he’s working on?” I arch an eyebrow at Zoe. “Guys, it’s fine. I’m fine. We’re friendly again. Things are cool. And good sex is nothing to scoff at, but nothing to read into either. Besides, I feel great about it. I had fun, I let loose, I got swept up in Evan. Then, the morning came, and it solidified what I already know: Evan and I don’t work.”
Harlow shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.
Zoe points the tines of her fork at me. “I don’t believe you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not the same girl I was three years ago. Fine, Evan broke my heart a little when he never really made room for me in his life. But now, I’m over it.”
“Then why’d you sleep with him? If you’re over it?” Zoe demands.
“Because,” I sigh, dragging a piece of pancake through a puddle of syrup, “I got caught up in the moment. The memories.”
“Ehhh!” Harlow makes an irritating buzzer sound.
“It’s because a part of you still cares about him,” Zoe supplies the correct answer because Harlow cheers.
I shake my head. “Can we please stop talking about Evan? Let’s just have a girls’ brunch. Let’s catch up.” I glance at Harlow, waiting for her to fill me in on everything happening between her and Connor.
She holds up a hand. “Before we move on, let me just say that the heart wants what it wants. If a part of your heart is still pining for Evan, well, last night just tipped the first domino in a very complicated, very emotional maze.”
“My heart isn’t pining.”
Zoe and Harlow look
unconvinced.
“Tell me about Connor,” I demand, grateful when the conversation turns away from Evan. Even if my thoughts don’t.
Snow is starting to stick to the ground when I pull down the street to my mom’s house. I’m driving slow, slow enough to fully take in the black on black Mercedes parked in my mom’s spot in the driveway.
I glance at the clock on the dashboard. Mom will be gone, volunteering at a church fundraiser, for at least two more hours.
What the hell is Evan doing here?
I pull next to his Mercedes and park my car. Blowing out a deep breath, I tamp down the spark of excitement flickering in the pit of my stomach.
This means nothing.
Last night was just for fun. A good time. It meant nothing. I’m leaving. I’m going back to New York.
I repeat the words like a mantra before pushing open my car door and stepping out into the ice-cold air. When I walk up the porch steps, I gasp that Evan is sitting there, dressed in a wool parka and scarf.
“Are you crazy? You’re going to freeze to death,” I bark at him.
He shrugs, pushing off the front door. “You ghosted me.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring his tone. Is that hurt I detect? No, that’s me being silly, like before. I step around him and jam my key into the front door. It swings open and I step inside, Evan close behind me. “I didn’t ghost you.” I close the door behind him and slip out of my coat.
He does the same and I take it, hanging it in the hall closet. Jesus, the man looks like sex personified in a sharp suit but dressed like this, in dark jeans and a grey sweater, his cologne spicy and his hair tousled, he looks decadent. How come he looks like a sex god while I look…hungover?
“Oh? What would you call it when you wake up in the morning and leave someone’s house without saying good-bye?”
“Thoughtful. Be thankful I didn’t wake you up just to let you know I was leaving.”