CHAPTER FOUR #2
Marcus stood at the entrance to the specialty section, his eyes wide as saucers, his face bright red. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I’ll just—” He backed away quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet. “I didn’t see anything!”
He disappeared, and suddenly Crew was lowering me to my feet, stepping back, putting distance between us. Cold air rushed in where his heat had been, making me shiver. I wanted to reach for him and pull him back.
But the look on his face stopped me.
Regret.
I’d seen it before and knew the emotion well.
“I, uh.” I put my trembling hand to my mouth. That was all I could say. I rushed out the door as fast as I could, needing to be alone.
That should never have happened.
I made it through the rest of the afternoon on autopilot.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Crew’s face—the way he’d looked at me right before he kissed me, like he was done fighting whatever this was between us.
His hands had gripped me, possessive and sure.
But more than that, I’d remember the way his cock had felt pressed against me, thick and hard, and the way my body had responded, going wet and needy, ready to take him right there against the wall.
By quitting time, I still hadn’t seen him. Dale mentioned that Crew had gone to help with a delivery at one of the other sites. Convenient timing.
I drove home in a daze, my body still humming with unfulfilled need, my mind replaying that kiss on an endless loop. Once inside my small house, I dropped my bag, kicked off my boots, and stood in the middle of my living room trying to decide what to do next.
Call Evie? That was probably a terrible idea. She and Stone were supposed to be on their belated honeymoon—a long weekend at some fancy resort. The last thing they needed was me interrupting with my drama.
But God, I needed to talk to someone who could help me process what had happened. Who better than my bestie.
Against my better judgment, I pulled out my phone and called.
Evie answered on the second ring. “Hey! What’s up?”
“Are you... are you busy? I can call back later if—”
“Charlotte.” Evie’s voice sharpened with concern. “What’s wrong? You sound weird.”
“I’m fine. I just... I kissed him.”
Silence. “Wait, what? You kissed who? I haven’t been gone that long.”
“Crew. I kissed Crew. He’s new.” I sank onto my couch, the events of the day crashing over me. “God, Evie, it just happened.”
“Okay, back up. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything about this mystery man who’s got you all flustered.”
So I did. About how Crew had shown up at the mill, sent by Race. About how he was ex-military, grumpy, closed-off, and completely gorgeous. About the tension that had been building between us—the heated looks, the almost-touches.
“And today, I tripped. Again. And he caught me, and we were just... standing there, pressed together, and he said maybe he couldn’t let me go. And then he kissed me.”
“Oh my God,” Evie breathed. “Tell me about the kiss.”
My cheeks heated at the memory. “It was... intense. Dark and deep and hungry, like he’d been holding back and finally couldn’t anymore. Evie, I’ve never been kissed like that. Never felt that desperate, that needy.”
“Where were you?”
“At the sawmill. Against the wall in the specialty section.” I groaned. “Marcus walked in on us. I had my leg wrapped around Crew’s waist and we were… Evie, we were all over each other.
Evie let out a low whistle. “Damn, Charlotte. That sounds hot.”
“It was. It really was. But then Marcus interrupted. I just left.”
“Of course you did. That’s what you do.”
“What?”
“You’re my bestie and the most responsible person I know, but you can’t handle certain situations. Men being one of them.”
“That’s not true,” I protested.
“Yes, it is. You haven’t been on a date in over a year, Charlotte, and the last one you were on ended with you pouring a drink over his head.”
“He was being a jerk.”
“So, was this man being a jerk? It didn’t sound like it to me.”
I laid back on the couch. “No, he wasn’t.”
“The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” I leaned back against the couch cushions. “He’s an employee. He’s temporary—only here because he owes Race. And I have a rule about not dating employees. This is exactly the kind of complication I don’t need.”
“But do you want him?”
The question hung there. Did I want Crew? Want more than just that kiss?
“Yeah,” I finally admitted. “God, yes. I want him. I want to know what made him so closed-off, what haunts him, why he looks at me like that when he thinks I’m not watching. I want more of those kisses, more of feeling his hands on me, more of—everything.”
I want him naked in my bed, I want to feel him inside me, I want to hear him groan my name when he comes. I want all of him, not just pieces.
I couldn’t even share those thoughts with my bestie.
“Then you know what you have to do.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow, you make him face this. Make him talk about it instead of running away. Don’t let him pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Evie—”
“I’m serious. You deserve to be happy, Charlotte. You deserve to have someone who makes you feel the way you sound right now—all breathless and excited and alive. Don’t let him walk away without at least trying.”
We talked for a few more minutes before hanging up. I sat there on my couch, staring at nothing, thinking about Crew. About that kiss. About the way he’d held me like I was something he couldn’t bear to let go of.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’d make him talk to me. Make him face whatever this was between us.
Because I was tired of running from things that scared me.
And Crew—grumpy, complicated, dark-and-hungry-kissing Crew—scared me more than anything.
Because I was pretty sure I could fall for him. Hard.
If he’d let me.