I scoot closer to him, reaching out to cup his cheek. His skin is smooth and warm to the touch. “How can I help?”
His fingers wrap around my wrist, holding my hand to his face. He stares at me for an inordinate amount of time, and my chest heaves with anticipation. A crackle of electricity connects the space between us, and the more he stares at me, the more I want to throw caution to the wind.
“You can let me pretend,” he croaks, as his eyes plead with me.
I quirk a brow, but he doesn’t elaborate, skimming his gaze all over my body in a way that confirms his mind has gone to the same place mine has.
This is a bad idea.
A really, really bad idea.
Because if his dad is dead, that makes him my new boss, and he’s grieving. He’s not in his right mind. And I’m not in mine because this isn’t who I am. Yet, in his presence, it’s who I want to become.
“Okay.” I’m pleased my voice comes out confident despite the way I’m trembling inside.
“You don’t know what I’m asking,” he adds, angling his head so he can suck my pinkie into his mouth.
I gasp as pleasurable warmth filters through my body, igniting every cell and nerve ending. “Show me,” I beg, no longer able to keep the craving from my tone or my face.
Forcing my hand aside, he grips my face in his large palms and slams his mouth down on mine. Stars explode in vibrant bursts of color behind my eyelids as his lips devour me like he’s been waiting years to taste me.
His lips glide with skill and precision against mine while he hauls me into his lap. His fingers dig into my hips as he pulls me against his erection, ensuring I feel how much he needs this. I run my fingers through his hair, pressing my chest against his, letting him know I’m right there with him.
His kisses grow more aggressive, and he punishes my mouth with a slew of drugging, bruising kisses. It’s in direct contrast to the loving, gentle way Isaac used to kiss me, and as I cling to Charlie, biting and nipping at his lips, I know I’ve been in denial for far longer than I realized.
I’m on fire. Every part of me hums with expectation and need, so when he lifts my dress off me and unclips my bra, I offer no resistance. I moan into his hair as his hot mouth worships my bare breasts, his teeth grazing my nipples as he grinds his hips into mine. I rock against him, needing the friction against my achy core to sate my growing need.
In between hot kisses, we rip at our clothes until we’re both naked, and he wastes no time rolling a condom on and yanking me roughly down on top of him. He’s sitting up with his back against the arm of the couch as I straddle him.
I moan as his long, thick, hard length fills me up, and I’m immediately consumed in him. I bounce up and down on him, writhing and whimpering, as he moves his hips in sync with my movements. I place my hands on his shoulders as I fuck him, closing my eyes and tossing my hair back as he worships my breasts with his slick mouth while his cock slams inside me over and over again.
His fingers dig into my hips and he thrusts into me in savage strokes, gritting his teeth as he flexes his hips, driving harder and harder, as if he can’t get deep enough. My climax is already building, surprising me, because I rarely orgasmed from sex with Isaac.
My head falls forward onto Charlie’s shoulder as his arms wrap tightly around me and his wicked lips leave my breasts, trailing a line of firm kisses along my collarbone and up my neck. He nips at my skin with his teeth, and jolts of pleasurable pain ripple over my heightened flesh. My skin is a live wire, and his fingers are like volts of electricity as they glide across my body, singeing in every place they touch.
Without warning, he lowers me to my back and lifts my left leg up over his shoulder. His cock sinks even deeper at this angle, and I cry out as the pressure in my core builds to a crescendo. He fucks me raw, pounding into me like he’s exorcising his demons, and perhaps, he is. He exudes aggression and frustration with every pivot of his hips, every bruising thrust, as he ruins me for all other men.
Charlie may be young, but he’s clearly very experienced in all things sexual, and I’m riding the crest of that experience as he continues fucking me like a madman, inciting a flurry of new sensations inside me.
He buries his face in my neck, sucking on my skin in a way I know will leave a mark, but I couldn’t care less at this moment. I grab hold of his firm ass cheeks, pulling him in closer, needing more. My hands roam the muscled planes of his back and his broad shoulders, and I scrape my nails along his sweat-slickened skin, delighting in the fact I’m leaving my mark on him too.
There is something so primal, so intimate, about the way we’re fucking that is entirely new to me, and it could easily become an addiction.
I drag my lips in a line across his chest, nipping at his skin, and he growls out his encouragement. I inhale his scent like it’s the oxygen I need to breathe while I continue my assault on his impressive chest, caving to my inner beast as I’m rough with him too. I can’t get enough of him, and I need to come, yet I long to prolong this moment too. I can’t marry those conflicting thoughts, but I don’t have to, because my body takes control, barreling toward the most orgasmic explosion of my life. I scream his name as I come, my inner walls gripping his cock tight as I shatter, drowning in exquisite waves of intense pleasure, coming apart and being remade at the same time.
Charlie lifts my other leg over his shoulder and picks up his pace, thrusting inside me like he’ll die if he doesn’t come. His face is still cradled in my neck as he slams inside me at this punishing angle, and I know the moment he reaches his peak because his entire body locks up tight and he emits an animalistic roar birthed from someplace deep. Then he’s jerking and pulsing inside me, his body trembling and shaking over me as he comes.
“I love you, Abby,” he whispers in my ear, and I stop breathing. Blood rushes to my head, and a heavy weight presses down on my chest at his words.
You can let me pretend.
His earlier words reverberate in my mind as I curse my stupidity. I thought he meant he wanted to pretend everything was okay, that his father hadn’t died, but I got it completely wrong, and now I feel sick. Nausea twists and turns in my gut as I crash back to Earth with a bang.
He hasn’t been with me in this.
The intimacy and pleasure I felt between us as we made love was a lie. No wonder he’s barely kissed me. Barely looked at me.
He hasn’t been present.
He’s been with her.
This Abby woman.
Whoever she may be.
He’s stopped moving, and the only sounds in the room are our joint heavy breaths. I was under no illusion. I knew this was only a one-time thing. We’re from two different worlds, and we both needed this for various reasons. But it still meant something to me. And now, I’m hurt. I feel cheap. Used. As irreplaceable as a worthless whore.
I shouldn’t be surprised. His father is a cruel prick with little regard for other people’s feelings too. It stands to reason his son would be the same. I shove at his shoulders as tears prick my eyes. I’m such a gullible fool. “Get off me.”
He lifts his head from my shoulder, staring at my face with a puckered brow.
I glare at him as I push his shoulders again. I need to put as much distance between us as I can, and I can’t get away from him fast enough.
He climbs off me like an elegant gazelle, standing over me with a frown, watching as I grab my clothes and hastily pull them on.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks as I yank my leggings up my legs.
I snort, purposely not looking at him. He’s standing there in all his naked glory, and I know one look will have my ovaries purring like a kitten in heat. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to look beyond the exterior and find real attraction buried underneath, but tonight, I threw all my beliefs in the toilet for a tryst with a hot guy who was in pain. Only, the joke’s on me, because I could have been any warm body. I bet he doesn’t even remember my name.
I slip my feet into my
boots and look up at his handsome face, finding him ugly now. “Who is Abby?”
He visibly pales, and his Adam’s apple jumps in his throat. A few seconds tick by, and it’s obvious he’s not going to answer.
Asshole.
I prod my finger into his chest. “You fucked me imagining I was her. I at least deserve to know who she is.”
Air whooshes out of his mouth as he claws his hands through his hair. Torment is etched across his face, but I’m not falling for it this time. I’ve no idea what is going on here, but I want no part of it.
“She’s my wife,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from my face.
“I…” I falter, unable to form words to convey my horror at what’s just happened. Bile travels up my throat. I abhor cheating. It’s a major no-no in my book. And this asshole—my new boss—has just made me an accomplice to adultery. I struggle to breathe over the pain settling on my chest. “You make me sick,” I say, fighting angry tears. “I would never have had sex with you if I’d known you were married.” Like, the guy’s only eighteen or nineteen, and none of my colleagues told me he was married. In fact, if the rumors are to be believed, he’s the quintessential playboy bachelor. I don’t understand.
“We only got married today,” he says, adding to my horror.
I slap a hand over my mouth, staring at him in shock. A few tears sneak out of my eyes, dripping down my face, but I angrily swipe at them as rage overtakes every other emotion I’ve been feeling.
I’ve just been fucked in more ways than one. This is a clusterfuck of life-altering possibilities, but I can’t lose this job. Dad is relying on me, and I’m not letting him down.
“This never happened!” I blurt when I remove my hand from my mouth. “And if you attempt to terminate my employment, I will slap you with a sexual harassment lawsuit quicker than you can frog-march me out the door.”
“I would never do that,” he says, quick to reassure me.
But I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, and I’m not buying it.
He pulls on his pants as I storm toward the door. I clutch the door handle, talking to him over my shoulder. “See that you don’t, or I’ll make your life hell,” I promise, hoping he can’t see through my bravado.
“It’s in my interests to keep this secret,” he adds, and my disgust elevates another notch.
I nod tersely as I turn my head to face him. “From now on, it’s strictly professional, and we breathe a word to no one.” A fleeting thought crosses my mind.
I could blackmail him for my silence.
God knows we need the money.
But I dismiss the idea as quickly as it came to me. That’s not who I am. And no good comes from taking dirty money.
“Agreed.” He stares through me as if I don’t exist. And, I guess, to him, I don’t.
“Go home to your wife, Charlie,” I hiss as I whip the door open and stalk outside, wishing I could rewind time and erase the last couple hours from my life.
CHAPTER 1
CHARLIE
Nine Months Later
I keep my head down, jotting notes as the professor’s grating tone projects around the packed auditorium. With all these people here, you’d think it’d be easy to avoid my former friends, but every time I look sideways, I spot Abby or Drew or that asshole Anderson. Doesn’t help that Drew, Shandra, and Anderson’s buddy Lauder are all business majors, like me, and we share a bunch of the same classes. Thank fuck I’m only here part-time. If I was forced to confront them all the time, I’d probably drop out.
My cell pings just as the professor uploads our new assignment on the board and draws the lecture to a close. I glance at the text with a scowl, knowing I’ll be heading into a shitstorm when I step into the office in an hour.
As much as I dread arriving at Rydeville University every morning for classes, I feel physically ill arriving at the high-rise glass building in downtown Boston every lunchtime, because I know her face is one of the first I’ll see.
One look at Demi and I’m reminded of my biggest failures.
Of the night that set everything in motion.
And I fucking hate her for the part she played in my eventual downfall.
Everything about her ties my stomach into painful knots, and if I could get away with firing her sexy ass, I’d have done it a long time ago. But she’s got fire in her belly, and I don’t want to call her bluff. Instead, I go out of my way to make her life a living hell hoping someday soon she’ll get the hint and resign.
I tap out a quick reply to the CEO before tucking my phone into the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
When freshman year commenced a few weeks ago, I used to wear jeans every day and drop by the house to change before heading into the office. But I couldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of me anymore. So, I attend lectures in my dress suit, sticking out like a sore thumb, but I’ve zero fucks to give. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to get a business degree so I can use the learning to mold myself into the CEO my dad always wanted me to become.
I owe him that much.
Actually, I owe him so much more than that, but the rest is a work in progress.
Dad’s second in command, the guy who was president before I was thrust into the role, has stepped into Dad’s CEO shoes for the time being. Dad left stipulations in his will in case something like this happened. Even in death, he’s ensuring I continue my education and my training, and I’ll only assume the CEO role once I’ve graduated with my degree and gotten a firm handle on every aspect of business operations.
It’s unnecessary. I could take control now and learn on the job. This degree is a checkbox exercise. One, I must, unfortunately, achieve, in order to gain control of the family business.
It pisses me off. Everyone knows I’m the boss. In everything but name. But I’ll play this charade because the lawyers tell me it’s the only way I’ll get my hands on the company, and it’s been in our family for too many generations to let it fall into the board members’ hands under my watch.
I sling my laptop bag over my shoulder and take the stairs two at a time, following the other students out of the auditorium. The hallway is teeming with people as I walk with purpose toward the food court to grab some lunch to take with me to the office.
The food court is buzzing, as usual, but I grab a sandwich, a bottle of water, a bag of chips, and some fruit and line up to pay for it.
“Drew, please. Come on. Stop shutting me out.”
My ears prick up as I hear Shandra Farrell’s sultry, pleading tone. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder, spotting her with Drew Manning, my former best friend, in the line a couple of places behind. I turn around before they notice me.
“Shandra. I can’t do this. I’ve said all I needed to. Please just drop it.”
“I won’t wait for you forever,” she says, and I detect the sadness and longing in her voice.
I wonder if I sounded that pitiful when I was pining after Abby.
I shake my head as the memories lay seize to my brain, disgusted at myself all over again.
“I don’t want you to wait for me. I can’t give you what you need—now or anytime in the future,” Drew says. “Just let it go.”
“Fine.” Her tone is snippy. “It’s your loss, Drew. It’s certainly not mine.” Her heels make a clacking sound on the tile floor as she storms off.
I reach the register and hand over my tray, glancing in Drew’s direction as the girl rings it up.
He’s rubbing his temples, his brow creased, clearly troubled. His eyes lift, and our gazes lock for a few seconds. He jerks his head in acknowledgement, and I give him a cursory nod in reply before turning around and handing my student meal card to the girl behind the register.
I don’t look at him as I walk away, and he makes no effort to talk to me. I’ve long since passed the point of caring. I don’t need him or anyone in my life.
I’m an island, and that’s just how I like it.
Not that I intend to.
What happened was a momentary lapse in judgment, and I will ensure it never happens again. No woman will ever penetrate the steel walls I’ve rebuilt around my heart, and that’s a promise I’ve made to myself. One I fully intend to keep.
I’ve just reached the doors when she calls out to me. “Charlie! Wait!”
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, closing my eyes for a second, as I silently beg her to let it go. But Abby is stubborn as shit when she gets something in her mind, and I know my silent prayer is in vain.
A guy plows into my side as I turn around. “Sorry, man.”
I ignore him, moving off to the side so I’m not blocking the entrance, watching as the brunette beauty who used to play a starring role in my dreams comes charging toward me.
She’s wearing skinny black jeans and a black-and-white off-the-shoulder sweater, and even though she’s wearing high-heeled boots, I still tower over her when she catches up to me.
“You’re sitting with us.” Her glare dares me to challenge her decision as she grabs on to my arm, attempting to pull me forward.
“No. I’m not.” I shuck out of her hold, sending her a challenging glare of my own. “No one wants me at that table, especially me.”
She crosses her arms and juts out her hip in defiance. “I want you there.”
“Why? It will only cause an argument between you and him.”
I still find it hard calling him her husband. The word always seems to stick in my throat even though I’ve accepted the situation and the fact they are crazy in love.
Abby is obviously happy. It radiates from her every pore. And I’m happy for her. Genuinely, I am. All I ever wanted was for her to be free of the hold that bastard Michael Hearst had over her and to be happy and in love.
But I wanted her to be happy and in love with me.
However, we don’t always get what we want.
“Because you’re our friend and it’s time we left the past in the past. We’ve all made mistakes. You’re not alone in that.”
Charlie Page 2