by L. S. Pullen
And then my lips touch hers. I swipe my tongue over the seam of her lips, and then I’m exploring her mouth, and she reciprocates. I groan, or she does, I can’t even be sure. It’s not like the kiss before, it’s charged with an unspoken want, a long, lingering need. Our mouths and bodies are in tune together. This is what it’s like to be kissed with reverence.
But just as quickly, the reality of what we’re doing comes flooding back. Her body tenses enough for me to notice, enough for me to break the kiss. I lean my forehead against hers. I’m not ready to see the regret in her eyes or the uncertainty. Her warm breath cascades my chin before her hands press on my chest to push me back, silently asking for space.
Whether I want to or not, my eyes have a mind of their own, roaming over her face. Hers are cast down enough to know she’s already regretting it. The material of her top moves with the erratic thump of her heart and I shouldn’t be eyeing her chest right now.
Shit, fuck, damn!
I grab the back of my neck, squeezing hard and take in a lungful of air.
“I’m sorry.”
Her head shakes from side to side. “Don’t, Charlie, don’t apologise. I kissed you, too. But I think it’s best if we head home, please,” she says, biting her lower lip between her teeth.
Her request is a plea, the undertone of disappointment clear as crystal. The air grows thick with a fog of unwanted tension. My eyes sting, and I don’t know why.
“Of course, whatever you want, Sophie.”
She strangles the strap of her bag and walks ahead. I unlock my car as we approach, and she gets straight in.
I glance over to her as I click on my seat belt. She’s staring out of her window into the dark parking lot. The enclosed space is stifling, crackling with an unwelcome silence. To block it out, I turn on the radio, and for the first time since I’ve known her, I’m at a loss for words.
Two Years Earlier
I do a double-take when she walks in, laughing at something her friend whispered in her ear. She shakes her head, eyes scanning the bar. She has this unassuming presence about her. Surveying her surroundings, she pauses when she spots me. Her face is lit up with recognition. She makes a beeline toward me, and I set the crate down as she approaches and leans on the edge of the bar.
“Charlie, I thought that was you. Blimey, so this is your bar?” she asks, waving her arm in the air.
“Sophie,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face, nodding. “It is, the one and only.” I move to greet her with a kiss to the cheek. The same subtle signature scent of flowers and vanilla washes over me like it did the first time. I take a step back.
“Very nice,” she says and turns in a slow, deliberate circle.
“So, what can I get you and your friends?” Wow, that was original… I almost let out an eye roll.
She gapes over her shoulder. “Well, I’d tell you if I knew where they’ve buggered off to. I’ll have vodka and ice please.”
I nod; she pulls out her purse.
“Put that away. It’s on me. Nate would kick my arse if I didn’t take care of his girl’s best mate.”
“Well, hmm… thank you,” she says in her best Australian accent. I laugh. Usually, when others do it, I find it irritating. But not with her. She’s an enigma. I met her at Nate’s the other day, and I couldn’t help myself with a little harmless flirting, but she was immune to my charms.
“My pleasure.” I slide her the drink. It isn’t lost on me how she watched my hands like a hawk the entire time. And that’s when it hits me like a hard jab to the kidney. What happened to her and Felicity. The memories make me queasy and not just from the bottle of whiskey Nate and I cradled the night when he broke down and confided in me.
She doesn’t stray far from the bar or far from me. I’m walking back from collecting glasses when a hand grabs my arse. I shift and nearly drop everything I’m holding. Sophie goes on her tiptoes, her lips travel dangerously close to mine. Fuck me if she hasn’t got my attention.
“Sophie, what are you doing?” I ask, my voice sounding like it’s barely made it out of puberty. I’ve never even considered hooking up here, and I sure as heck don’t plan to start now. But I’m not going to deny there’s a small part of me which wants to take her in the backroom, lay her down on the sofa, and explore every inch of her body. I blanch at my thoughts and move on my feet, the urge to adjust myself down south is very real. I cough and step away, ridding my hands of the glasses. And I turn back to her.
Her expression, which was carefree moments ago, is now replaced with one I can’t make out. My gut clenches uncomfortably.
“Sophie, I think you may be a tad drunk.” I scan around us. “Listen, I’m almost done here, and it looks like your friends left already. How about I get you home. No funny business, I swear,” I say, holding up my palms.
She twists her hands in front of her, eyes scarcely meeting mine. “No, you can’t, you’re at work. I’m good. I’ll just…” She meets my eyes. Hers cloud over, forehead creasing.
I put my hand on her shoulder and give it a soft squeeze. “Listen, you can trust me, I promise. I’d never let anything happen to you. And you know Nate would castrate me if I even thought about taking advantage. I’m kind of attached to my man parts if you know what I mean.” I’m waffling like a damn fool.
She attempts to smile at my remark, and her posture relaxes a fraction as my words sink in.
“You won’t tell Nate or Flick… about me hitting on you?” Her words slur, rolling into each other.
I shake my head. “No, of course not. What happens at my bar, stays at the bar,” I reply with a wink.
“Thank you,” she breathes. Her body sways, leaning into my side. We stand like this for a beat, my thumb rubbing her shoulder. But what causes me to stop in my tracks is how I hardly know her, and yet this feels strangely natural.
I walk her to the back office and usher her to sit.
“You wait here for me. I’m going to make sure the guys are all good for closing. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
She nods, eyelids heavy, lashes sweeping the underside of her eyes like feathers. She slumps into the chair. Her head lulls to the side as her eyes fall closed.
I leave Olly to lock up. He wiggles his eyebrows like the tart he is, but I just shake my head and head back to my office. She startles awake when I come into the room, placing her palm over her chest.
“Sorry, you ready?” I ask.
She begins to sway on her feet. I offer her my arm, feeling like a complete douche but Nate’ ain’t here to rib me about it, so who the fuck cares?
I help her into the passenger seat and buckle her in—only because after watching for the third time as she completely missed, and to stop myself laughing at her, I do it.
Running around to the driver’s side, I get in, and as soon as I turn the ignition on, I twist the heating to high. The temperature’s brisk to put it mildly.
No sooner am I pulling out of the rear car park and asking her where to, I glance to my left to find her head resting on the passenger side window, mouth slightly parted—she’s asleep.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath.
I have no idea where she lives. Fuck.
Okay, think. Nate and Flick are out of the question. I could go through her purse for a driver’s licence for an address or search for house keys, but I’m sure that’s breaking some kind of code, nosing through a woman’s bag.
“Sophie,” I say.
Nada.
“Sophie,” I repeated sternly.
She rewards me with some muffled response.
After deliberating with my conscious, I decide the best place for her tonight is at mine. I keep repeating this to myself all the way to my house. I try in vain to wake her; how much did she drink? I manage to help her out of the car, but she’s barely standing. I don’t need my neighbour peeking out of her blinds, thinking I’m up to god only knows what. I lift her into my arms bridal style and kick the passenger door shut. She may
be petite, but like this, she’s dead weight. An unwelcome wave of cold air crawls over the back of my neck. Either she’s a lightweight when it comes to her drinking, or she’d been on it long before she got to the bar.
I manage to get her into the house after a fight with the keyhole. Heading straight to the spare bedroom, I carefully lay her down and drape a blanket over her. And then lock up.
When I return to her, she’s in the same position I left her in. I sit in the chair opposite and watch her—just in case she gets sick, I tell myself when my eyes, heavy from the day, catch up with my body. I lean my head back, closing my eyes. I don’t think up until now I believed in fate but bumping into her tonight has changed my tune. And I’m hit with a sense of relief. She’s here with me. But most importantly, she’s safe.
Chapter 10
Charlie
I cringe at the sound of the tyres as they crunch across the gravel drive with exaggerated force. I come to a stop inside the garage and turn off the ignition. What is usually a calming hum of the engine cooling down is now deafening. I open my mouth, ready to speak, but the clang of the seat belt retracting harshly in her haste to unfasten it stops me. The loud thump of the closing door behind her leaves me momentarily stunned.
My palms connect with the steering wheel. The horn echoes in the silence; I startle, my heart racing and lean back into the headrest, squeezing my eyes closed.
Shit, I’m such a fucking idiot.
The lights are off when I head inside, the moon casting a glow over the kitchen. Enough for me to see her shoulders move up and down with the weight of what just happened.
There’s an uncomfortable thickening of my throat. “I don’t know what to say, Soph. I’m sorry I fucked up.” But I’ve liked you for a while now.
She turns and slowly walks towards me; the air around us pulsates with emotion. My heart rate picks up with her every step. I’m half expecting a slap to the face—God knows I’d probably deserve it.
“Charlie, you haven’t.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t realise I wanted you to kiss me until you did… and I still do,” she says on a heavy breath.
Did I hear her right, or am I hearing what I want to hear?
I shake my head, the pulse in my temples thumping. “So, you’re not—” My words are cut off as she bridges the space between us, going up on her tiptoes, her hand warm and soft, gripping the back of my neck, pulling me down to her mouth.
Her body is flush, pressed against me, touching everywhere and yet, not anywhere near enough. A guttural moan rises from my throat. She responds in kind, rocking into me. I reach for her arse and lift her onto the counter. I take my time as I trail my tongue down her neck and trace back up to her ear, nipping on her earlobe. A mewling sound from her lips has me fired up. She rewards me by wrapping her legs around me. I drag her body into my hardening length. I’ve never wanted to get lost in someone as much as I want to get lost in her right now. I want to explore every curve, every crevice with my eyes, with my tongue, with my mouth.
“Not here,” she says breathlessly.
She’s right, of course. I’d die of mortification if Ana or Evie walked in on us, but every level of my self-control is wavering. I need her on a bed so that I can take my sweet time with her. My lips meet hers again for a frenzied kiss and my palms cup her backside, pulling her tight against me. She kisses, sucks, nips and licks my neck, ear, lips as I navigate the stairs, having to pause, the bulge in my trousers borderline painful.
“If you’re not careful, I’ll fuck you right here,” I croak out.
Her nervous giggle has me even more aroused. I groan, approaching my door.
I pull back and examine her. “Is this what you want, Sophie? Because I do. But it’s not lost on me that you’ve had a few drinks. So, if you want to change your mind, all you have to do is say.”
I hold my breath and wait for her answer.
“I know what I’m doing and what I want. And right now, I want you.”
Inside the door, I set her on her feet, close it shut behind us, and flick on the light switch, but she walks over to the lamp and clicks it on. I slide my hand back to the switch and turn off the big light.
Edging closer, I eye the length of her body. I take her in, unabashedly like I’ve wanted to do for so long. She appraises me, a tender smile on her face.
She’s naturally beautiful, and yet she hasn’t a fucking clue.
She wraps her arm around her stomach, but I don’t want her to hide from me. “Sophie, you mesmerise me.”
I caress her cheek, my thumb sliding over her plump bottom lip. She takes my hand in hers. A shiver rolls over me as she pulls me with her towards the bed.
She slips off her shoes and scoots onto the mattress. Her dress rides up her thigh, and I glimpse a flash of her underwear. I bite down on my knuckle with a moan.
I kick off my trainers and tug at my socks, then strip off my t-shirt. Her eyes roam my torso, teeth digging into her bottom lip. I watch her eyes when I unzip my jeans and push them down my legs. My arousal is straining to escape the confines of my skin-tight boxers.
She rests back on her elbows as I knee on the bed. My fingers start at her ankles and play their way up to her waist. And then in a swift movement, I slide her down and underneath me. The sweet sound of air escapes her lips.
I don’t know what she’s doing to me; whatever I feel for her is alien to me. I want to commit everything we’re about to do to memory as I explore her inch by inch.
I move my mouth close to her ear because I can’t bear to see her face when I ask, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” she breathes back.
That three-letter word is my undoing.
My lips find hers before I get to work on every exposed piece of bare skin. She fidgets and sits up enough for me to pull the dress up and over her head. I trace the fabric of her bra—her chest rising and falling fast—before pulling her breasts free and taking turns to suck and squeeze her nipples, her body arching into me.
I trail kisses down her stomach until I come to a stop at a thin trim of lace. Then I slide my tongue just underneath. She arches into me again. I breathe onto the soft fabric and suck over the material. But I want it gone.
She reaches down to pull my face back up and shakes her head once, her teeth digging into her lower lip.
“Trust me,” I say.
I lower my head, and her fingers slide into my hair as she shudders with a tiny wriggle.
I slip off her knickers and toss them on the floor. Cupping the back of her knees, I move them, so her feet are flat on the bed and push her legs further apart. Dipping my head, I swipe my tongue over her soft, wet folds. A low moan escapes her, urging me to continue. I take my time to devour her in a way I never thought possible. A wild rhythm keeps me focused on pleasuring her as her knees clamp my head, her fingers tightening in my hair.
She’s on the edge.
I slow it all down to a sweet, torturous caress, and then slip in two fingers, hooking them inside her. My thumb rolls over her clit, tongue licking her folds. Her whole body rocks into me.
I feel the exact moment of her release when she propels off the ledge; her inner walls pulsate and clamp around my fingers. But I don’t stop. I continue with the intensity as her moans turn into curses—my little vixen. She arches her back, pushing herself into my fingers, my mouth sucking hard over her sensitive flesh.
Her breathing’s heavy, but her legs relax as she releases my head from between her knees, her body moulding into the mattress. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling pretty damn pleased with myself. Then I blow on her skin, as my lips travel back up to her face, then latch onto her neck, sucking hard.
“Wow,” she whispers, her breathing ragged.
I pepper her with tiny kisses, sucking her earlobe into my mouth and feel her nipples harden against my bare chest. She makes to move away.
“Where do you think you’re going?
” I ask and playfully pin her beneath me.
“To repay the favour.”
“Oh no, you don’t. That wasn’t what that was about.” My hand slides down her thigh and slips between her legs. I insert a finger as I run my thumb over her. She’s still sensitive from the orgasm, and as her breathing grows erratic, I enter another finger. And then I kiss her hard, unabashed, full of need and want. She soon forgets where she was going. Another orgasm takes over. I remove my fingers, sticking them into my mouth and sucking them.
“Sweeter than nectar.” I love the way she tastes.
Her cheeks glow, eyelids hooded. “I want you inside me,” she says.
I hover over her on my elbows. Her hands come around to my arse, and she pushes my boxers down to my knees. I finish the job and kick them off. She takes me in her hands, I harden even more and rest my forehead on her chest. And when she cups my balls, I can’t contain my groan as I throw my head back.
“Condom,” I breathe out, but she continues running her hand up and down my length in a torturous rhythm. Her other hand continues to play my balls like the keys of my baby grand. I roll onto my back, trying to gather my thoughts, her hands relentless in their task to disarm me.
“Fucking hell, Sophie.”
She leans over and kisses my chest.
I reach out for her face and pull her up, bringing her lips to mine. She straddles me.
“Where are they?” she asks.
“What?” I reply, confused.
“Condoms.”
I smile and nod to my jeans. “My wallet.”
She climbs off me, and I cover my face with my arm, trying to gain some self-control. When the bed dips and she straddles me again, followed by the sound of the foil packet being ripped open, I move my arm and watch her. Thank fuck I had one in my wallet. I watch as she rolls it down my length, holding my breath, her touch almost too much to handle. Her face is less guarded than it was before. I rest my hands on her hips relenting to her touch, knowing she needs the control, more than happy to oblige.