by Ethan Asher
“I was—” Giggle. “I—oh my God!” More giggling. “I was supposed to put this—” she motions to me with her finger “—on hold until the renovation was over and you weren’t my client.”
“How’d that turn out for you?”
She thinks for a few moments and then nods. “Better than expected.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into her, our lips meeting again.
“I don’t think I can kiss you enough.”
“I don’t think you could kiss me enough either.”
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life than Charleigh at this moment. She’s let go of all restraint, of every wall she’s had built up around her. There’s a lightness in her eyes, a playfulness in her voice, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have her.
We continue to kiss, extending the moment for as long as possible until there's a loud knock on the door. Mortification would be an understatement for the expression on Charleigh's face when she hears Deanna speak to both of us through the door.
"Now that you two are done, get dressed and come downstairs for dinner. I made pasta with Italian sausage."
Both of us stare at each other silently as we listen to the thump of Deanna’s feet as she walks back down the hallway and downstairs. The seconds seem to stretch into hours as both of our heads spin, reeling from what just happened.
“I guess we should be a little quieter next time,” I say finally.
“No can do,” Charleigh says. “It’s impossible to be quiet with this.” I groan as she palms my cock, rolling it in her hand. “Or this.” She presses a finger against my lips.
“Then we’ll just have to wait until she leaves next time.”
Charleigh laughs. “Who’d have thought living with your mom at twenty-seven could be so complicated?”
"I don't think either of us minds a little complication."
I press my lips against hers, grabbing her wrist and pinning it above her head as we continue to make out. A few minutes later, Deanna calls out again. “It’s getting cold!”
I break away from Charleigh, and it’s clear from the look in her eyes that it’s the last thing she wanted me to do. It’s the last thing I wanted to do too. If I had the choice, I’d just stay in bed with her forever.
"I think I've had my fill of sausage today," Charleigh says. She bites her lips, trying hard not to laugh, but I can't show the same restraint and laugh enough for both of us.
“You’re something else, Char.”
I kiss her on the forehead and then roll out of bed. I glance at her as I lean over and grab my shirt off the floor.
“There’s no reason to pout.”
“I think there’s plenty reason to pout. And plenty reason for you to keep that shirt on the ground where it belongs.”
I pull the shirt on over my head. “We can pick this up again later. We live down the hall from each other now, remember?”
Charleigh rolls onto her side and then onto her stomach. Christ, it’s hard to resist temptation when the most gorgeous woman in the world is lying naked on her bed, begging for you to strip down. I can’t take my eyes off the curves of her body and the way her long hair rests gently on her back.
“So it’s a promise that you’ll sneak into my bedroom tonight?”
“I solemnly swear.”
But as I’m looking at Charleigh on the bed, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to last until tonight.
The metal bar smacks back into place, rattling the bench.
Maddox claps me on the back as I sit up. “Holy shit, dude! I’ve never seen you move that much weight before!”
I reach for my towel. “I haven’t.” I wipe the sweat from my brow as I try to catch my breath. I wasn’t planning on lifting that much, but something was pushing me to go for it.
“Damn, dude. That must be a new PR for you.”
“Smashed my old record by twenty pounds.”
“Well, congrats.” He smacks my back again. “Now get the fuck up and let me have a go.”
I stand up, my muscles screaming from being pushed to their limits. I never thought I’d be able to push that much weight, but that’s how it’s been lately. Things that I thought would never happen, happened. Charleigh and me being the most unlikely. I still can’t believe it, even though I’ve been spending every night in her bed for the past week. It feels too perfect, and I’m afraid that it could disappear just as quickly as it started.
“Let’s fucking go,” Maddox yells, clapping his hands loudly before leaning back against the bench.
“You sure about this?” Maddox hasn’t lifted this much weight before either, and I’m afraid that he might be stretching his limits. I probably shouldn’t have attempted it either, but with how invincible I’ve been feeling lately, I didn’t want to stop the momentum.
“You afraid I’ll smash your record?”
“No, I’m afraid you’ll smash your chest.”
“That’s why I’ve got you here, bud. Quit yapping and help me get this shit off the rack.”
I sigh, hoping to God that Maddox has it in him to move this weight, or else I’ll be down a partner. I help Maddox lift the bar off the rack and let go.
He keeps his arms extended, prolonging the descent. He’s beginning to shake and wobble and it’s becoming clear that it’s far too much weight.
“Dude, it’s too much.”
“Ffu—noo—pgh—” Maddox mumbles and spits, red-faced and straining as he holds the weight out. I grab the bar and force it back onto the rack.
“The fuck, dude? I had it.”
I take off fifteen pounds on both sides of the bar, ignoring Maddox’s swollen ego talking. “I know you did. I didn’t want to see my record smashed so quickly.”
Maddox nods. “Thought so.”
I’m not sure if the sarcasm flew over his head or if he’s taking the easy out I gave him. Either way, Maddox seems content with lifting a more manageable amount of weight.
As soon as he starts his reps, I catch a glimpse of Charleigh getting off her treadmill. And in that moment I give thanks to the person who invented yoga pants. Dear lord, she’s a sight to behold. She’s turning heads as she walks down the long rows of cardio equipment, ponytail bobbing with every step. She turns her head, a smile growing on her lips as she spots me. She changes directions and begins walking toward me.
I’m mesmerized, so much so that I completely forgot that I’m supposed to be spotting Maddox. I look down and he’s writhing underneath the bar, leveling a murderous expression at me as he struggles out a few words.
I grab the bar, apologizing profusely as I rack it.
Maddox shoots up, trying to catch his breath before finally asking me what the fuck my problem was. Before I have the chance to answer, Charleigh appears in front of us, answering Maddox’s question for me.
“Emma!” Maddox says, hopping off the bench. He tries to hug Charleigh, but she expertly dodges it by kneeling down to tie her shoelaces.
Emma? How does…
“Hey, Mattis,” Charleigh says, looking up at Maddox.
“It’s Maddox,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
Finally, it comes back to me, so much so that I need to prop my body against the bench so I don’t double over with laughter. I’d completely forgotten how Charleigh had dodged Maddox a few months back.
"I tried to email you, but I must've written down your address wrong. It was Emma bamma the slamma jamma at gmail dot com, right?"
Charleigh coughs and sputters, trying her best to maintain her composure. “Yup,” she says. “How many M’s did you put in slamma?”
Maddox counts it in his head as he holds out his fingers. “Two,” he says, finally.
“Ah, it’s actually three M’s, two M’s was taken.”
“Oh.” Maddox clears his throat. “Got it.”
Charleigh and I catch each other’s eye as she stands up. I motion to the water fountains behind us, and within a few seconds, she leaves
and heads in that direction.
“Man,” Maddox says, sitting back down on the bench, running his palm over his buzzed head. “I don’t think she likes me.”
I clap his back. “Don’t worry about it, man. Plenty of other women out there for you.”
“Yeah…” Maddox groans. “Yeah. Plenty of women who want to see the gun show.” Maddox kisses his biceps and I roll away, cringing that my partner called his arms guns.
I find Charleigh waiting for me at the water fountains, but as I approach, she turns around and disappears into a hallway meant for employees. The moment I turn the corner, she leaps onto me, nearly knocking me off balance as she wraps her legs around my waist. She moans into my mouth as I press her against the wall, steadying us both.
She pulls away. “This is a nice surprise,” she says as she plants kisses along the edge of my jaw.
“I had a break.” I groan as Charleigh grinds against me. “And hadn’t worked out—fuck—”
I’m doing everything in my power to restrain myself from ripping Charleigh’s tank to shreds and rolling her yoga pants off her. Christ, what is she doing to me?
“I thought we worked out this morning. And last night. And the night before.”
I laugh. These last few days have been amazing, to say the least. Both of us are insatiable.
“You’re right. And if you keep grinding on me, we’ll probably have another workout right here.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I pin Charleigh’s hands above her head, kissing her harshly as she moans into my mouth.
“The hell’s going on out here?” someone yells from down the hallway.
Charleigh releases me, sliding down from the wall and screams, “CPR. I passed out and this gentleman just saved my life.”
“Get out of here,” the man yells. “It’s for employees only.”
Both of us dart around the corner, and before we get too far I stop, pulling Charleigh back into me.
“Tonight?” I ask?
“Tonight,” Charleigh responds.
I press my lips into hers again, savoring one last taste to hold me over, but who am I kidding? I’ll never have enough.
30
Charleigh
“I could get used to this,” Guy says.
We just finished another walk-through, and now we're both enjoying the view of the forest from the newly expanded deck. The fresh-hewn cedar smells divine as it mixes with the smoke from the newly installed fire pit, the pines from the forest, and the damp soil after the rain. Fresh. Clean. Amazing. I never want to get used to this.
“Why would you want that?” I ask.
After removing my hands from the railing, I turn around and look at the deck again. I still need to have the furniture delivered to finish the space, but even without it, the space is wonderfully inviting. The deck is multi-layered and winding as it wraps around the house. Some of the larger trees have been incorporated into the design, rising through the deck. There's a pergola and small outdoor kitchen outfitted with stone, and the fireplace from the inside extends outdoors.
“What do you mean?” Guy asks.
I can feel his warm gaze on my cheek as he turns toward me, and the swell in my chest and fluttering across my skin screams the answer I already know. I never want to get used to the way Guy makes me feel. I want to feel like this forever. I never want to get used to it or take it for granted.
“Why would you want to get used to this? Why would you want to feel anything less than what you feel now?”
“I don’t, but nothing ever stays the same. Everything changes, Charleigh.”
“I guess, but I still don’t like that phrase.”
Guy laughs and pulls me into a hug. "And that's what I love about you. You're very clear about what you don't like. And if you remember, that was me at one point. But things change."
I pull my head back and make a face. “The jury’s still out on you.”
He kisses my forehead, and I’m melted chocolate in his arms. “Let me know when they’re done deliberating because there’s something I’d like to do with you once we’re done with the renovation.”
“And what would that be?”
“Christen each and every room.”
His hands slide agonizingly slowly down my back until they rest firmly on my ass. He’s got a half smile on his lips and burning embers in his eyes. Why did I wait so long for this?
I roll my bottom lip under my teeth. “I guess I might like that.”
“Might?” Guy pulls one hand away and then the next. “I thought you might be a little more—”
I wrap my hands around the nape of his neck and kiss him.
“Better?” I ask, pulling away just a hair, our lips still brushing together gently.
“Much.”
There’s a throat clear in the distance, followed by a deep voice, which makes Guy and me break apart from each other. Ryder’s boots thud against the wood as he approaches us. There’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ryder says, his tone a little more playful than usual, “but I wanted to let you know I talked with the mason and electrician. Your issues will be no issue by next week.”
“Great. Good. Thanks. Fannnnntastic.”
Ryder smiles, glancing at me, to Guy, and then back to me. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”
He tips his cowboy hat at us and then turns around. “I’ll see you two at Jamie and Marissa’s party this weekend.”
“Yup, see you there!”
He’s halfway to the house when I can finally breathe again. I’d talked with Guy about keeping our relationship secret because it’s technically against Florence + Foxe policy to date any current clients. And it does nothing for my reputation if Andrea or anyone else at the firm thinks I’m stealing clients by sleeping with them.
“Shit,” Guy says, turning to me. “I didn’t mean to—I forgot Ryder was still here.”
“Don’t worry about it. Ryder’s not Andrea. But we should probably tone it down for the bachelorette party because there’s no way to know who will be there.”
“That might be difficult,” Guy says.
"Don't worry," I say, dragging a finger down his chest. "I'll more than make up for it later."
“I’m counting on it.”
GUY
I know I promised Charleigh, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself tonight. She’d spent most of the day torturing me by sending pictures of the dress she’d be wearing, and as much as I know it will look amazing on her, I think it will look even better pooled around her feet.
Guy: What are you doing to me, Charleigh?
Charleigh: What are you talking about? I’m just trying to get your opinion on my dress.
Guy: By sending me pictures of your cleavage? I literally can’t see your dress in half the photographs.
Guy: Not that I’m complaining…
She sends a shrug emoji back, followed by yet another selfie. Dear lord, she’s gorgeous. She rarely wears makeup, but when she does…
Guy: Keep it up and I’ll drag you out of the party within a few minutes.
Charleigh: Caveman style?
Guy: Caveman style.
Charleigh: I wouldn’t mind that.
It’s all I can think about for the rest of the day. Charleigh. The dress. Dragging her from the party and ripping that dress off her. I’ve never felt this way with anyone else before—so out of control. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The day drags on at a snail's pace as I'm consumed with thoughts of Charleigh. Normally, I'd say nothing would be able to drag me out of my trance, but when I open the door to Deanna's house, I stand corrected. Judging by the foul odor permeating throughout the house, there's either a decaying animal in the walls or Deanna is cooking. Based on the whistling coming from the kitchen, it's the latter. But I can't rule out the former…
I say a little prayer in my head, force a smile onto my face, and head into the kitchen.
�
��Wow, what is that?”
Deanna turns around, wiping her hands against her red-checked apron, and beams at me.
“Tuna casserole surprise.” The oven beeps and she grabs the mitts from the drawer. She opens the oven and then sets the casserole on the stove before turning to me. “Charleigh told me it was your favorite dish I used to make, and I thought you’d like something hearty in your stomach before the party tonight.”
Did she now?
“Yeah, that would be great. Where is Charleigh, by the way? Has she left to meet up with Marissa yet?”
“She’s still upstairs getting ready.”
Deanna opens up the oven. The overwhelming scent turns into an overpowering one that forces me to turn around and block my nose before something comes up.
“Hurry back though. Don’t want it to get cold.”
No. We definitely wouldn’t want that to happen.
“Make sure you give Charleigh a heaping serving. She told me she loves it more than sweets.”
The sound of music filters into the hallway from upstairs. When I reach the second floor, I can’t help but laugh. “MMMBop” by Hanson is blaring from Charleigh’s room with her vocal accompaniment.
I creep down the hall, careful not to disturb the elusive creature in her natural habitat. And the closer I get to her room, the better the aural experience becomes.
Pitch: Imperfect.
Vocal abilities: William Hung.
And every lyric apart from the mmm bop is mumbled and butchered beyond recognition.
I reach the door and peek inside. She's bouncing around the room, performing what David Attenborough would describe as a bizarre but magnificent display of courtship.
Dancing? A mating ritual? Seizure? I don’t know what I’d call this. Whatever it is, I can’t take my eyes off her. She tilts her head back, letting her long red curls fall behind her. Her arms flail wildly above her as she spins around on one leg, the other raised precariously by her side. She’s in the dress, and it’s even more alluring in person than in the pictures.