Chapter Thirty-Three Charlotte
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHARLOTTE
Out of reach
F AITH THINKS I HAVE A BOYFRIEND . A BOYFRIEND NAMED W ILL L ARSEN , who plays hockey for the Briar U men’s team and is my lab partner for Cell and Tissue Engineering.
And my best friend has every right to believe that, because for the past two weeks, I’ve spent more time at Will’s town house in Hastings than I have at the Delta Pi house.
What Faith doesn’t know is that when I’m at Will’s house, Beckett is there too. And when we’re all there, I inevitably end up naked and moaning on one of their beds while they work together to make my entire body sing.
Right now, I want nothing more than to be in that position. Lying on my back while one set of lips trails kisses along my throat and another pair travels between my legs to wrap around my clit. Today has been teetering on the edge of disaster, and my stress levels are venturing dangerously close to pressure wave territory. I barely turned in my last final paper on time. I hit a major obstacle in my capstone that had me making an emergency appointment with my lab advisor to try to troubleshoot. And now I’m stuck in an exec board meeting listening to Agatha bitch about one of our freshmen who tarnished the Delta Pi name by daring to have fun at a party.
I simply don’t have the patience for this tonight. It gets old, Agatha’s annoying habit of social policing to ensure everyone in the house adheres to the same high standards as hers.
“Agatha,” I interrupt, startling the other members of the board. I rarely make waves during these meetings. “It was just a dare. It’s not like Lucy gallivants around campus on the regular wearing a bikini. In December. Someone dared her to do it.”
“And she should have said no,” Agatha responds in a tight voice. “One Delta Pi’s bad behavior reflects badly on everyone else in the house.” She makes a disparaging sound under her breath. “This is what we get for letting in the diversity pledge. I told you she wouldn’t be a good fit.”
I stare at our sorority president, struggling to keep my anger from turning my voice into a low growl. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
A perfectly manicured hand waves dismissively. “Oh, relax, Charlotte. I’m not referring to her ethnicity. I meant diversity of circumstances.”
As in poor ? Oh my fucking God. As if that makes it any better. Lucy is a scholarship student from a small town in Texas, which, sure, is not the most progressive town nor is it an affluent one. But she seems like a nice girl, and her older sister was a Delta Pi at the University of Austin chapter.
Agatha flicks up a thin eyebrow. “All I’m saying is, you can take the girl out of the trailer, but you can’t always take the trailer out of the girl.”
Sherise and Samantha nod in agreement.
I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I hold back. Barely. I’ve learned to bite my tongue in this house, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fuming inside. Instead of unleashing on her, I nod tersely and somehow get through the rest of the board meeting without spilling blood.
Once Agatha dismisses us, I grab my purse, coat, and keys and shove my way through the front door, practically running to my car. I can’t stay in this house for one more second.
My phone rings as I’m sliding into the driver’s seat. It’s Harrison, who’s back in Las Vegas now. As a freelancer, he can work from anywhere as long as he has his laptop and an internet connection, but he can’t keep paying rent on his Vegas apartment while also paying to stay in the motel on the outskirts of Hastings. He’s coming back for a visit this weekend, though, and I’ve tentatively agreed to go see him in Vegas for spring break, depending on how it’s going with my capstone.
Normally I would take his call. Tonight, I hit Ignore. I’m in a crappy mood, and I know he’ll hear it in my voice. He’ll ask what’s wrong, I’ll end up telling him I’m annoyed with Agatha, and then he’ll make a derisive comment about it, because anytime I mention my sorority, he always has something snarky-adjacent to say.
He doesn’t get it. He thinks Greek life is all a big, irrelevant performance. I don’t entirely blame him—a lot of people feel that way about sororities and frats. And maybe the Greek experience is a bit ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about it.
You don’t care about it , my inner bitch cracks . Mom does.
Ugh. Fine. Whatever. So what if I’m here because of my mother? It makes her happy that I’m a Delta Pi. I like making her happy.
But I’m not about to tell Harrison that. It would only trigger a fresh dose of resentment in him. Whenever we talk, I do my best to steer away from the topic of my family.
And I still haven’t told my family about him . The burden of that secret keeps getting heavier, and I know the longer I keep it from them, the worse it will be when I finally tell them.
I’m pulling out of the parking spot when the pressure wave threatens to surface. Suddenly, the world feels like it’s closing in on me from all sides. I put the car in park and take a deep breath, visualizing my container.
Put all the stress in there, Charlotte. There you go.
But I can’t fully close the box. It keeps bursting open at the seams.
I’m too full.
Or maybe the issue is I’m not full enough.
As in I need to be filled. By Will Larsen or Beckett Dunne or both.
I need to be in a place where I don’t have to pretend or keep up appearances. Somewhere I can just be me. I feel like I spend so much time fighting myself. My own nature. I don’t have to do that when I’m with my boys. They get me. And the more time I spend with them, the more I’m starting to get them .
The drive to Hastings and the walk to their front stoop is a blur. By the time I ring the doorbell, I’m buzzing with pent-up frustration. A live wire ready to detonate.
When Will opens the door, I waste no time rushing inside.
“Take your pants off,” I order. “Now.”
“What? Why?”
“I need it.” I release a strangled sound of impatience. Desperation. “ Now , Will.”
Although he chortles loudly, he doesn’t need to be asked twice. And that’s how I end up in their living room, getting fucked from behind by Will, who grips my hips tight enough to hurt. I’m draped over Beckett’s lap, his long fingers twisting my hair around his fist as he guides my mouth up and down his cock.
Will reaches around and rubs my clit. He bends over me, changing the angle of penetration, and I cry out, the orgasm blasting through my body. The boys aren’t far behind me.
Afterward, I collapse on top of Beckett, catching my breath for a moment before climbing off the couch and ducking into the hall bathroom to clean up.
When I return, I find two Briar hockey players staring at me in disbelief.
“What?” I say.
“What do you mean, what?” Beckett chuckles. “You just blew in here like a tornado and fucked our brains out. No explanation?”
“Do you need an explanation when the end result is you getting laid?”
“Good point.”
Rather than put on my own clothes, I grab Will’s discarded T-shirt and slip it over my head. The soft material falls past my knees. It smells like him, that heady, spicy scent I can’t get enough of.
Beckett tugs me back onto his lap. I rest my head against his shoulder as Will grabs my legs and pulls them into his own lap. Will rubs my right foot, and I groan from the pleasurable sensation.
They’re both still shirtless, but their dicks are tucked back into their sweatpants, condoms disposed of. I love how neither of them batted an eye at me showing up on a Wednesday night demanding sex like a crazed, wide-eyed lunatic.
“So I don’t usually discuss exes with guys I’m seeing,” I tell them, “but I just want to say thank you for taking my libido in stride.”
Will looks amused. “You’re welcome. But it’s really not a chore to make you feel good.”
“It was a chore to my ex,” I say with a shrug.
“Who? Macho Mitch?” Beckett drawls. “Of course he couldn’t handle someone like you. You’re a majestic thoroughbred, and he’s one of those sad, tired horses they make the tourists ride on beach resorts.”
I snort. “I think this might be the second time you’ve compared me to a horse.”
He nuzzles my neck. “Yeah, but, like, a really hot horse.”
Will laughs, switching to my other foot and digging his fingers into the arch.
“I used to text him the way I texted you guys tonight, saying I was on my way over and practically begging him for sex. He hated it. Said he couldn’t perform on command, and I was selfish for always making it about me.” Guilt pricks my stomach.
“I guess he’s right about the performing on command part,” Will concedes. “But you also don’t strike me as the kind of person who would force the issue if you showed up and he told you he really wasn’t in the mood.”
“Of course I wouldn’t force it. I’d just go home and get the job done myself.”
“And I don’t think it’s selfish to make your needs known,” he adds. “Sounds like you just weren’t with the right person. You said it yourself—it was a mismatch. Someone with a high libido wouldn’t even blink.”
“Like you guys,” I say.
“Hockey players are horny,” Beckett agrees.
I sag into his chest, enjoying how warm and solid he feels.
“God, I’m so tired of this,” I blurt out.
Will’s hand freezes on the sole of my foot.
“No, not that.” I smile at him. “That feels divine. Don’t stop.”
Beckett plants a kiss on my neck. “Tired of what then?”
“Everything. My sorority, the stupid rules, keeping up appearances… all of it.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
“Because I have to,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Because everyone’s watching. Judging. And I hate it. I hate that I never get to feel free or fully alive. It’s like I’m always stuck in this box, doing what’s expected of me, playing the part everyone else wants me to play. And I never get to just…be.”
Will gives me a pensive look. “What would you do if you could? Just be, I mean? If there was nobody watching or judging, what’s one thing you’d love to do right now?”
The question catches me off guard. In a sense, I already know what I’d do. Because I already do it. I indulge in secret hookups with guys I have no business hooking up with. I race fast cars on a deserted track in the middle of the night. I don’t mind taking risks—hell, I crave them—as long I can do it away from prying eyes.
But what else?
I purse my lips. Pondering. What is something I’m dying to do that’s always been out of reach? Something that’s a little too risky, even for me?
“I’d go to a rave and get high,” I confess.
Beckett laughs against my hair. “Okay. I wasn’t expecting that. But…I’m listening.”
“There’s nothing deep about it. I’ve always wanted to go to a rave and take…I don’t know, molly or something. Something that makes me feel good. I want to dance all night and lose myself in the music. Just once.”
“So why don’t you?” Will asks. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity.
“Because it’s irresponsible. Potentially dangerous. And I’m too scared. I’ve never done a single drug before. I’m worried I might have a freak-out and there’ll be nobody to take care of me.”
Will squeezes my foot. “We’ll take care of you. If that’s something you seriously want to do, Beck and I will go with you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. We wouldn’t leave your side. You could do whatever you want and know that someone’s watching out for your safety.”
“We should try to go over the holidays,” Beckett suggests. “Maybe the weekend before the new semester starts. We don’t have any games that weekend.”
I’m touched by the offer. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” he says, and Will nods his agreement. “You deserve to feel alive. To not hide who you are. You’re incredible, Charlie, and you shouldn’t have to keep that hidden.”
Temptation tickles my belly, but it’s still tethered by the fear of what could happen. “Maybe,” I say, not committing but not rejecting the idea either.
Beckett runs his fingertips down my bare arm. “Well, the offer’s there if you want to take us up on it.”
“Thank you.” I plant a tiny kiss on his chin, then meet Will’s eyes and smile at him.
For the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe again.