by Meghan March
After the newspaper incident, I didn’t think he was going to any kind of event with Vanessa, but I could feel my claws coming out at the thought of all the other things he could be doing. I was off kilter all night. Trying to give change to someone who paid with a credit card. Double booking an appointment and having to call one guy back to reschedule. It was like the Simon Duchesne effect had sucked forty IQ points straight out of my brain. Sneaky. Bastard.
All through my Friday shifts at the Dirty Dog and Voodoo, I’d stared at my cheap cell phone and willed it to ring. I checked the balance of my minutes four times. Yep. Had plenty now that I wasn’t calling the clinic every five minutes for an update on Huck. No word from Simon. I wanted to text him, but of course, my piece of shit phone was barely capable, and I hadn’t been willing to pay the extra fee for that particular feature. So now I was guzzling Harriet’s second bottle of good champagne like it was Boone’s Farm and ranting about how men were sneaky and manipulative—getting you all wound up and not putting out until you spilled all your deepest, darkest secrets.
Harriet was doubled over laughing at my tirade, paint smeared shirt flapping in the night breeze. Through the cackle of her laughter, I heard a clanking sound coming from the iron gate. What the hell? I stumbled out of my chair toward the narrow corridor and saw a large form blocking the light from the street lamp.
“Who is it and what the hell do you want?” I yelled in the direction of the gate, still coming off my rant.
“It’s Simon. And I thought I’d made it pretty clear I wanted you. I’ll even put out, with or without the secrets.”
Fuck. My face heated. I hadn’t tried to keep my outburst quiet, but I had no idea that I’d been so loud. Maybe there was a chance… “I was that loud?” I asked Harriet, hoping I’d misheard him.
“I’m pretty sure they could hear you a block away, dear.”
“Shit.”
“Who’s out there?” Harriet asked me.
“A friend,” I replied as I stalked down the corridor to the gate, mumbling to myself. “The sneaky, manipulative guy who won’t put out.”
“I already said I would, babe.”
Fuck. He heard that too?
“Yeah,” Simon replied, smile spreading across his face. Dammit. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“I’m too drunk to deal with you,” I said.
“Let me in, Charlie. I missed you today.”
I melted against the wall of the narrow passageway, soaking up his words—the exact ones I’d needed to hear. I twisted the lock, and Simon swung the gate open and shut it behind him. He crowded me against the wall and cupped my face with both hands. I barely registered his intent before he bent to kiss me. Not a chaste peck this time. An all-consuming, devastating, soul-stealing kiss. I clung to his shoulders as he slid one hand down to cup my ass and pull me closer.
“Well now,” Harriet interrupted. “Seems you might have to retract your complaints, dear.”
Simon’s head jerked up, and I fell against him. He tucked me into his side and held out a hand to Harriet.
“Simon Duchesne, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Harriet clasped Simon’s hand with her paint-smudged one. “Likewise. I’m Harriet Sullivan. And I believe this is my cue to head back inside. Charlotte, darling, I’m happy to keep an eye on Huckleberry tonight if you decide to stay upstairs. I’ll even let him out in the morning.”
I sucked in a breath. I wasn’t drunk enough to miss the fact that Harriet had just called me by my real name. Simon stiffened. He hadn’t missed it either.
“Umm … thanks. Good night, Harriet.”
She shuffled away, and we didn’t speak until we heard the back door close.
“I like Charlotte, but I think Charlie suits you better.” In the dark corridor, I couldn’t make out Simon’s expression, but he didn’t sound angry. My drunken self needed to know conclusively.
“Are you mad?”
He pulled away, and I wondered if that was his answer. Maybe he’d leave and I’d never see him again. My heart clenched at the thought. If he couldn’t handle something small like this, then I guess it was better to know now. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he led me out of the narrow passageway into the garden oasis and swung me up in his arms.
“Do you have the keys for your place?”
“It’s unlocked.”
He grumbled at that and carried me up the spiral staircase. I buried my head in the crook of his neck and held on tight, praying he wouldn’t drop me. “I got you, babe. Don’t worry.”
He pushed open the door and flipped on the light before carrying me directly into my bedroom and setting me on the bed. He switched on my bedside lamp, and I finally saw his face clearly.
My head was fuzzy from the champagne, but he really didn’t look angry. He looked … thoughtful? Maybe? Dammit. Why did I drink so much?
He reached a hand back and tugged his shirt over his head. I drank in his tanned skin and rippling muscles. He truly was a beautiful man. He kicked off his shoes and knelt at my feet to pull off my Chucks without untying the laces. It was a staggering realization to my champagne-soaked brain that he might have noticed I never untied them. What other details about me had he noticed that no one else would? I was crazy to think he’d never find out the truth. I never should’ve let it get this far. But how could I stop myself? He was so … perfectly imperfect, and I wanted all of him. For every second I could steal.
He reached for his belt and paused. “I’m staying tonight.” It wasn’t a question.
“Okay.” I reached for the hem of my shirt and started to drag it upward. He reached out, covering my hand with his to stop me.
“But if you take that off, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from having you.”
“Good.” I yanked at his grip, trying to get the shirt off.
He squeezed my hand. “No. Not tonight. The first time we’re together, you’re going to be stone cold sober, because I want you to remember every single thing I do to you.”
My insides turned hot and liquid. A pulse thrummed between my legs. “You already told me you’d put out. No take backs. It’s not fair.”
He leaned down and brushed his five o’clock shadow against my cheek before saying into my ear, “Tough shit.”
He pulled back, and I stuck out my lip and pouted. Simon caught it between his teeth and tugged before releasing it. “So fucking tempting. You have no idea.” He spun and looked at my bureau. “Pajama pants? And I know you own them. I distinctly recall a striptease that involved a pair.”
I huffed. “Second drawer from the bottom.” He opened the drawer, pulled out a silky pink pair, and tossed them at me.
“I’ll be right back. You better not be naked.”
“You’re such a hardass prude, Mr. Duchesne.” He took a step toward the doorway and gripped the top of the frame. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, and his hazel eyes shifted from playful to serious.
“You’re worth the wait.”
He walked out of the room, and I heard the bathroom door shut.
I clutched the pajama pants in my fist as my heart tumbled further down the path of no return. A single thought crystallized in my head: Fuck. I could fall in love with this man.
Twenty-Two
Simon
I awoke as the sun was just starting to rise. But it wasn’t a nightmare that woke me. It was the hot, wet suction on my dick. I groaned, burying my hand in Charlie’s—Charlotte’s—wild hair.
“Jesus, woman. Holy shit.” I jerked my hips as she hummed against my cock, and her small, soft hand cupped my balls. “Holy fuck.”
My breathing grew labored. The urge to come slammed into me, and I gently tried to tug her away. “Baby, you gotta stop. I—I’m…” She didn’t stop. Instead she took me deeper and worked me harder and faster. I couldn’t hold back. So I just let go.
After she sat up and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, she smiled at me. “I’ll be rig
ht back.”
She slipped out of the bedroom, and I heard the bathroom door shut and the water turn on. I tucked myself back into my boxer briefs, laced my hands behind my head, and stared out the skylight in the slanted ceiling above me. She’d already been passed out by the time I’d come out of the bathroom the night before, still in her jeans, pajamas clutched in her hand. I’d been as gentlemanly as possible as I’d swapped out the jeans for her more comfortable sleepwear. I couldn’t help but marvel at the pale, un-inked skin of her legs. Next to her arms … they seemed almost … unfinished.
I’d tucked her into bed before slipping beneath the covers and pulling her against me. It was another solid night of uninterrupted sleep. Until Charlie had decided to provide the world’s best wake up call. I heard the water turn off, and she walked back into the bedroom. She bit her lip and her hair hung forward, obscuring part of her face. For the first time since I’d met her, she looked … shy.
I grinned. “That was, hands down, the best way I’ve ever been woken up.”
Her smile reappeared. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, babe. Come here.” I sat up so I was leaning against the headboard and held out an arm. She climbed back into bed and snuggled into my side. I tucked her under the covers. “Best morning ever.” I kissed her hair. “So, tell me about Charlotte.”
She froze, and I tightened my grip as she struggled uselessly against me. I spoke slowly, pitching my words so they would resonate in her ear. “I don’t care what your name is. I just want you. That’s all. I don’t care if you’re Charlotte or Charlie or Lee or anybody else. I just want to know you.”
She stopped struggling. I pulled back and looked down at her. “I just want you to let me in. To trust me with a little piece of you.” I tucked an unruly lock of purple hair behind her ear. “I’m falling for a girl who won’t even tell me where she’s from. You’d think I’d care, but it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me.” Her mouth dropped open and her aqua eyes widened. “Nothing you tell me is going to change how I feel.”
We stared at each other for several beats before she spoke.
“The East Coast.” Her voice was shaky and barely more than a breath. Finally. Something.
“Figured you were a Yankee.” I leaned down and kissed her. Slowly, reverently, like I was learning her for the first time. And maybe I was. Her fingers gripped the back of my neck as she pressed closer. That fit perfectly with my plans, because we weren’t leaving this bed without getting a hell of a lot closer—and not just in the physical sense.
She pulled back from the kiss and asked, “You going to follow through this time or leave me hanging? Because I gotta tell you, I’m not sure I can survive that again.”
It was the opening I needed. “What are you willing to give me?”
Charlie pursed her lips before answering, “What do you want?”
“You.”
“Done.”
“Information about you,” I clarified.
Her expression turned guarded. I cupped her face and met her eyes. “Simple shit, Charlie. That’s all I want. It’s not that hard.” She broke my stare, and I could almost hear the gears clicking in her head.
“Like what?” she whispered.
“Favorite color.”
Her eyes snapped back up to mine, her surprise clear. She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth and let it slide free. The urge to kiss that gorgeous mouth of hers was intense, but I wanted to hear her answer more.
“All of them.”
A grin tugged at my lips. Of course. One wasn’t enough for her. I rolled and held myself above her. I leaned down and brushed a kiss across her forehead before pulling back to ask my next question.
“Winter or summer?”
“Fall. New England fall.” I kissed her nose.
“Baseball or football.”
“Neither. Hockey.”
I kissed the corner of her mouth before murmuring, “Breaking my heart, babe.”
“Don’t ask if you can’t handle the truth.” She turned her head so my lips met hers squarely.
“Top Gun or Die Hard?”
“Bruce Willis. Definitely.” I kissed her jaw.
“Flowers or chocolate?”
“Sex.” I chuckled against her neck and dragged my teeth down the tendon. She shuddered.
“Sassy woman.”
“Damn straight.”
I pulled back again and gripped the neck of her wife beater with both hands.
“Last question.” I stretched the fabric to telegraph my intentions. The smile that spread across Charlie’s face was pure sin.
“First impression when I walked in the door of Voodoo that night?”
“Preppy douchebag.” I shook my head, because … well, I’d figured that’s exactly what we’d looked like. And then she added, “And can I take him home?” White-hot need flared in every cell of my body.
I jerked my fists apart and tore her tank top down the middle, leaving it in ragged shreds.
Her high, full breasts—tipped with those sexy as hell piercings—were bared to my gaze. And my mouth. I reached down to draw a nipple into my mouth. She buried her hands in my hair and urged me closer. The time for questions was over.
Twenty-Three
Charlie
Finally. That was my first thought when Simon tore my shirt apart. Followed closely by, holy shit that was hot. I arched my back as he tugged on my nipple. I wanted more. More Simon. More everything. Ripples of pleasure zinged from my nipples to my clit. His big hands cupped my breasts, and I reveled in the scrape of his calluses against my skin. He turned the attention of his mouth to my other breast and rolled the nipple he’d just released between two fingers. The piercings added a whole new layer of sensation over anything I’d felt before. Before Simon. At that moment, I couldn’t imagine anyone but Simon ever touching me again. My eyes flew open at the thought, but my panic was obliterated when Simon lifted his head and nipped at my lips until I opened to him. His tongue swept inside to duel with mine. I lost myself in the moment and didn’t surface until I felt one of his busy hands skim down my body to slide along the waistline of my pajama pants. He pulled away and stared down at me again.
“Are you sure?”
“God, yes.” I laughed. “What else do I have to say to get you to believe it?”
He studied me, and I had no idea what he was hoping to find. “You have to know this means something to me.”
“I know,” I replied.
“Don’t break my heart, Charlie.”
I slid my hands up through his dark hair, hoping he could see everything I felt for him. Everything I was afraid to put into words. “Not without shattering my own.”
He kissed me again. Long, drugging kisses that made me forget who I was and the heartbreak I would inevitably cause us both.
His lips shifted to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone … before moving south. He hooked a finger in the waist of my pants and pulled them down, dragging my underwear off with them. I kicked them to the floor as Simon levered himself off the bed and crossed to where his jeans were lying over my tiny vanity stool. He produced a condom from his front pocket, and I raised an eyebrow.
“Weren’t planning to hold out last night?”
“Just wanted to be prepared.”
“Boy Scout.”
He gave me a lopsided grin and tugged off his boxer briefs. The teasing words on my tongue vanished. A fully nude Simon Duchesne was … awe-inspiring. He stood confidently and let me stare. My survey caught and stopped at his erection, jutting upward, heavy and thick. I’d obviously been up close and personal with it this morning, but there was something insanely sexy about his self-assured stance. Hell, if I looked as good as he did naked, I’d pose too. Simon tore the condom package open with his teeth and rolled it on before striding back to the bed. He knelt and kissed my calf, the curve of my knee, and then the inside of my thigh. All innocuous locations, but my pulse hammered and I could feel myself growing embarrassingly wet. H
is hooded hazel eyes tracked up my body to my face.
“Wider, baby. I want to see all of you. Gotta taste you again.”
I complied, spreading my legs and bending my knees. His broad shoulders forced me wider as he bent to kiss a line from one hipbone to the other. I shifted, needing more, and he responded by darting his tongue out to flick my piercing before dropping down to lick me from bottom to top. My head thumped back against the pillow, and Simon’s clever tongue worked me over. I buried my fingers in his hair and urged him on. He slid two fingers inside me and found the spot guaranteed to set me off. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip to keep myself from moaning like a porn star as the orgasm rushed over me.
My lids fluttered open to see Simon holding himself suspended above me. My breaths came in shallow pants as he leaned down to kiss me again. The taste of myself, mixed with his own unique flavor, spiked my need.
“Want you. Now.” Complete sentences were beyond me. I just needed him. Inside me. Now. Right now.
He shifted to brace himself on one arm, and I felt the broad head of his erection nudge my entrance.
“Good?”
“Just fuck me already, Simon. Jesus.” So much for romance.
He grinned and thrust. The porn star moan could not be held back as he stretched me deliciously.
“Holy shit,” I gasped.
Simon nuzzled my neck and nipped my ear. “So greedy. Can’t a guy take it slow and enjoy the ride?” I writhed against him, already feeling another orgasm building just from the friction of our bodies. But I needed him to move.
“Too much talking. Not enough fucking.”
He chuckled and swiveled his hips, and my words disintegrated into breathy whimpers as the pressure on my clit and my piercing sent shards of pleasure shooting through me.
“That. Again. More.”
He leaned down to scrape his stubble along my jaw. Withdrawing, he wrapped my legs around his hips and thrust deeply, adjusting his pace from slow to fast and then slow again. My hands shifted to his shoulders and my nails dug into the solid muscles. His alternating, impossible to predict pace, coupled with my piercing had the intensity building until I was on the brink. I held it off, wanting to make this moment last, to memorize this feeling. But the riots of sensation were intensifying, and I couldn’t stop myself. I stared up into Simon’s hazel eyes as it shattered me.