Chapter 3 Charlie #3
The thought crashes into my consciousness like an unwelcome guest, and suddenly I'm not fully present anymore. I'm dancing in a crowded bar with this ridiculously attractive man's hands on me, who's looking at me like I'm dessert after a month-long sugar free diet, and I'm thinking about my ex.
Seriously, Charlie? This is what we're doing right now?
Bash must notice the shift in my expression because his eyebrows draw together slightly, head tilting in silent question.
I force myself back to the present.
No. Not tonight.
I refuse to give Ethan space in my head when there's this much electricity between me and the man in front of me. I won't let my ex haunt this moment like some relationship poltergeist.
"You disappeared for a second there," Bash says, his voice cutting through the music. "Everything okay?"
I make a calculated decision. "Do you want to get out of here?"
His eyes widen slightly, but he recovers quickly. "Where to?"
"Anywhere." I press closer, emboldened by alcohol and rebellion against my own overthinking brain. "Just somewhere that isn't here."
A slow smile spreads across his face. Not smug, not presumptuous, just pleased. "Let me grab our jackets."
I grab his hand and pull him off the dance floor, cutting a path toward the table where Emily, Lily, Tyler and another man are laughing over drinks.
As we weave through the crowd, the air between us crackling with electricity, Emily spots us approaching. Her face lights up with that particular expression I recognize all too well with equal parts curiosity and mischief.
"There you two are!" she exclaims, waving enthusiastically. "I was about to send a search party."
"We were just dancing," I say, though the heat in my cheeks probably tells a different story.
Emily's eyes dart between us, noting Bash's hand still firmly clasped around mine. "Well, come meet Max! He just got here."
She gestures to a dark-haired man I hadn't noticed before. Tall, conventionally handsome, with the kind of smile that suggests he knows it.
"Max, this is my sister Charlie and Tyler's friend Sebastian," Emily introduces.
Max extends his hand, his gaze sliding over me in a slow, deliberate assessment. "Charlie. Wow. That dress is something else."
I drop my hand from Bash's and take Max's hand briefly. "Thanks."
"Sebastian?" Max turns to Bash with a firm handshake. "Good to meet you, man."
"Bash," he corrects, his voice neutral but his posture subtly shifting closer to me.
Max leans against the table, angling his body toward me. "So Charlie, Emily's told me you work in marketing? What a coincidence, because I just launched a boutique agency last year."
"That's...great," I say, not wanting to talk about work right now.
"We should grab coffee sometime," Max continues, either missing or ignoring the signals. "I'm always looking to connect with other creatives. Maybe next week?"
I catch Emily's eye, silently pleading for an extraction. "Actually, I think I have meetings all next week and we were just leaving," I tell them.
"Leaving?" Max looks genuinely confused, as if the concept of someone not wanting to continue a conversation with him is foreign. "But the night's just getting started! I ordered a bottle for the table."
Bash's arm slides around my waist, casual but unmistakably possessive. "Another time, maybe."
"Come on," Max persists, leaning closer. "One drink. I promise I'm more interesting than I seem."
Emily, bless her intrusive but occasionally useful sisterly instincts, swoops in. "Max! You were telling us about that celebrity client who trashed your Airbnb, remember? We're dying to hear the rest."
"Oh right!" his attention shifts, ego clearly unable to resist the pull of an audience for his story. "So there I was, at three in the morning..."
Emily extracts herself from the group and grabs my hand as Bash and I turn.
"Wait, so you're really leaving?" she whispers into my ear. "With him?" She nods toward Bash, who pretends to be fascinated by something across the room.
"Yes, Em. Is that okay?"
Her expression shifts from surprise to delight. "God, yes. It's about damn time." She glances at Bash, then back to me. "Just... you know... wrap it before you tap it."
"Emily!" I hiss, mortified.
"What? I'm a concerned sister." She grins, completely unapologetic. "Have fun. Use protection. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That's a very short list," I mutter.
"Exactly." She winks, then raises her voice. "Text me tomorrow so I know you're alive."
“Oh my god.” I grab Bash's hand, desperate to escape before Emily can dispense any more sisterly wisdom. "Let's go."
His eyes search mine, serious for a moment. "You sure?"
The question carries weight beyond the simple words. He's giving me space to change my mind, to stay in the safety of the crowded bar with our friends instead of venturing into whatever this electric current between us might become.
I rise on my tiptoes and press my lips to his ear. "I'm sure."
The smile that spreads across his face makes something flutter in my chest.
“Do you have a coat?” Bash asks.
“No.” I admit.
He huffs out a soft, disbelieving laugh before leading us to the coat check.
A moment later, he has his jacket and without hesitation, he settles it over my shoulders.
His fingers brush the back of my neck as he gently frees my hair from beneath the collar, and the simple touch sends a shiver straight down my spine.
Outside, the night air hits my flushed skin like a wake-up call, but it does nothing to cool the heat building between us. I take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, clearing my head just enough to appreciate the moment.
Bash stands beside me, patient.
"So," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that makes my stomach flip. "Where to, Shortcake?"
"My place." I say confidently as I pull out my phone and request an Uber. "Three minutes."
And fuck those three minutes are possibly the longest of my life. We stand on the curb, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. The anticipation is electric, a live wire between us.
The Uber pulls up and we slide into the backseat, and I give the driver my address. As we pull away from the curb, Bash's hand finds mine on the seat between us, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
The ride is mercifully short, but still long enough that the air in the car feels thick with tension by the time we pull up to my building. I overtip the driver in my haste to get out, nearly stumbling in my heels as I lead Bash to the entrance.
My hands shake slightly as I dig for my keys, hyperaware of him standing behind me.
"Need help?" he murmurs, and the amusement in his voice steadies me.
"I got it," I say, triumphantly producing my keys.
We ride the elevator in charged silence, standing closer than necessary. His fingers brush against mine, a gentle back-and-forth that feels more intimate than it should. By the time we reach my floor, my heart is hammering in my chest.
I lead him down the hallway to my door, keys ready this time and as soon as we're inside, everything shifts. The air between us crackles with electricity, and for a moment, we just stare at each other in the dim light of my entryway.
"Your place is nice," he says, glancing around.
"Thanks," I reply, suddenly uncertain. "Do you want a—"
The rest of my sentence is cut off as he closes the distance between us in two strides, his mouth finding mine with an urgency that makes my knees weak. I respond immediately, arms winding around his neck as I press myself against him.
His hands are everywhere. In my hair, skimming down my sides, cupping my face. We stumble backward until my back hits the wall, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat pooling low in my stomach.
He pushes his jacket off my shoulders, and I shrug out of it without breaking the kiss, letting it fall to the floor. My fingers find the buttons of his shirt, fumbling in my eagerness.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his breathing ragged. "Bedroom?"
I nod, too breathless for words, and take his hand, leading him down the short hallway to my room. As soon as we're through the door, he spins me around, hands on my waist, and kisses me again, slower this time, deeper, with a thoroughness that makes my toes curl.
My dress has a zipper down the back, and his fingers find it unerringly, slowly dragging it down. The cool air hits my skin as the fabric parts, and I shiver.
"Cold?" he murmurs against my lips.
I shake my head. "Definitely not."
His smile is wolfish as he pushes the straps off my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet. I stand before him in nothing but my underwear and heels, and the way he looks at me makes me forget everything.
"You are..." he starts, then shakes his head, apparently at a loss for words.
I take advantage of his momentary distraction to finish unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off to reveal a chest that does not disappoint. My hands explore the hard planes of muscle, the slight dusting of hair that narrows down his abdomen and disappears beneath his waistband.
His breathing hitches as my fingers trace the edge of his jeans. "Charlie..."
I look up at him, suddenly bold again. "Yes?"
In answer, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to my bed. We fall together onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and heated skin. His weight above me is anchoring, solid, real in a way that makes everything else fade away.
His mouth finds my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone, and I arch against him, wanting more. My hands fumble with his belt, and he helps me, kicking off his slacks until he's just in boxers.
"You're sure?" he asks one more time, his voice strained with restraint.
I answer by pulling him down to me, kissing him deeply as my legs wrap around him. "Completely sure."
And then there are no more words, just the sound of our breathing, the rustle of sheets, and the feeling of being exactly where I want to be.