Chapter 13
PETE
My phone chimes with a text as I’m making us a late lunch.
Sadie: I put Charlie’s groceries in his fridge
Pete: Thank you. I’ll let him know
My gaze drifts towards the front door and I sigh. She’s going to be unbearable, but I can’t deny that her putting mistletoe above my front door helped break the ice when we got back here.
Pete: I appreciate the mistletoe, too
Sadie: Thought you might
Sadie: I popped some more in your bag with your wreath. In case you need it
I laugh out loud.
Pete: Thanks
I set my phone down and turn to take our sandwiches to the table. Charlie’s watching me, curiosity evident. “That was Sadie. She says she’s put your groceries in your fridge.”
“Tell her thank you.” He cocks his head to the side. “That what you were laughing at?”
“No. I thanked her for the mistletoe, and she told me she’d left more in that bag with the wreath in case I wanted to hang it elsewhere in the house.”
He grins. “There’s none over my door.”
“We can fix that later.”
After lunch we haul the tree in from outside and get it set up in my living room. I already have the decorations down from the loft, and with Christmas music playing softly in the background, it doesn’t take us long to fill my house with more festive cheer than I think it’s ever had.
As I dim the lights and step back to appreciate the fully decked-out tree properly, Charlie comes with me, shoulder brushing mine. It feels natural to wrap my arm around him and pull him close.
“Tree looks amazing,” he says, smiling.
“It does.”
Coloured fairy lights gently fade in and out, illuminating the baubles and tinsel wrapped around the tree we picked out earlier. My house feels snug and inviting, like being wrapped in the softest blanket. I don’t know if that’s due to the decorations we’ve put up or the man standing next to me.
I’m terrified that it’s the latter.
Neither will last, but I know I’ll be fetching these decorations out again next year. Once Charlie leaves, that’ll be it.
He could come back too.
He won’t though.
I think we both know it.
I can’t leave here, I don’t want to. It’s not fair to ask someone else to do what I’m not willing to. And besides, it’s not like we’re together.
Jeez, Pete. Way to get ahead of yourself.
It’s probably the last thing on his mind right now.
Charlie sighs and wraps an arm around my waist. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“For what?”
“For letting me share this with you. There’ll be no point in doing it when I get home.”
I try not to flinch at the reminder of him leaving. “You’ll still have time.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same. With the flat on the market, a lot of my stuff is already packed away. I guess it’s not felt like a home in a while.” He rests his head on my shoulder. “Not like yours does.”
That’s because you’re in it, I want to tell him. But I don’t. Obviously. Because that makes no sense and I don’t want to scare him off. Not now. Not when we’ve only got a few days left to have this.
“I’m glad I got to help you decorate. So thank you.”
I kiss the top of his head, can’t help myself. “You’re welcome.”
We stay like that for a while longer, enjoying the play of the lights across the room.
It’s captivating.
It’s also warm and cosy, especially with Charlie still tucked into my side, and even though I’m standing up, I feel my eyes drifting closed. I could fall asleep right here, until Charlie speaks.
“I should get going.” He gently eases out from under my arm.
I miss his warmth already. “You can stay,” I offer quickly.
He turns to face me. “I can’t. I’ve got some work I need to finish before bed.” He shrugs. “Deadlines.”
“Oh.” I had visions of us eating tea together, then going to bed. It hadn’t occurred to me that Charlie would want to go back to the annexe, and disappointment hits me hard. I do my best not to show it.
I obviously do a shit job, though, because he slides his hands along my jaw and whispers, “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, and I wonder if there’s something else going on here. Maybe this is too much, too couply? So I don’t push. “No problem.” I find a smile from somewhere. “Go finish your book—”
“Chapter.” He huffs. “I wish I was close to finishing the whole thing.”
“Chapter, then.” I reach for the light switch, turning up the dimmer until the brightness chases away some of the romantic atmosphere we had going on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, Pete.”
“Night.”
I walk him to the door, and then it gets awkward because we’re under that stupid mistletoe again. I don’t know whether I’m allowed to kiss him without it leading anywhere, so I half reach for him, then think better of it.
Charlie frowns, then his gaze drifts slowly up.
He purses his lips, and I have no idea what that means. Then his gaze meets mine and we stare at each other for a long, drawn-out second. “I’m not a fan of bad luck,” he whispers, glancing up again, like I don’t know what he’s implying.
“Me neither.” My lips curve into a smile I can’t stop.
Charlie matches it and steps closer.
I meet him halfway.
Our mouths meet and it’s like muscle memory, so easy to fall into a familiar rhythm. He clutches my shirt, I cradle his jaw, and what start out slow and easy quickly morphs into deep and heated.
We’re both out of breath by the time we pull apart.
I’m half-hard.
Charlie is too, by the looks of him.
I don’t ask him to stay, though. My gut tells me he needs space to gain some perspective. Maybe I do too, even though it doesn’t feel like it at the minute. He doesn’t look like he’s moving any time soon though, so I do it for him.
“Night, Charlie,” I say, letting go of him and stepping back.
“Night.”
I watch him go, standing in my doorway until I see the lights go on in the annexe. Only then do I close the door and lean against it.
I let out a strangled laugh and bury my face in my hands.
This has been one of the best nights of my life.
I’m so fucked.
I see Charlie after work on Tuesday.
He invites me to the annexe this time.
Turns out Sadie left him a surprise over his door too, which we take advantage of, naturally. We eat dinner and fool around, but he doesn’t ask me to stay, and I don’t bring it up.
Same on Wednesday.
It’s become this unspoken rule between us, but I’m not sure why. We’ve seen each other naked. Come all over each other. Would it really make much difference if we fell asleep and woke up together?
Maybe we’re both terrified the answer is yes.
By Thursday evening, I just really want to spend the night with him. He’s only here for two more, and I don’t want him to leave without knowing how it feels to fall asleep with him in my arms.
We eat dinner at my house.
The drama we were watching plays in the background as I get on my knees for him, his joggers pooled around his ankles. It’s so fucking easy to wrap my hand around his cock, then lean down and get my mouth on him.
“Fuck.” He moans the word, fingers sliding into my hair as I start to suck him in earnest. It’s new still, this thing between us. Surely it shouldn’t be this comfortable, this natural already?
But it is.
It so fucking is, and I close my eyes, revelling in the way his grip tightens every time I take him deep.
The breathy moans that fill the room as I worship his cock, pulling out every trick I have in my arsenal.
I want him to remember this long after he leaves here.
Want him to remember me. How good we are together.
Because we are.
Even after so little time together, we fit. And I know, I know that if we had a little more time, then maybe we’d have a chance at something real. But two weeks isn’t long enough. I know that too. Doesn’t stop me from trying, though.
I groan as his hips rise off the sofa, thrusting into my mouth as his control slips. It hurts so good as he fucks my throat, and I shove my hand down my sleep pants, needing some fucking relief.
“Don’t . . . come . . . yet,” he pants, even as his cock stiffens in my mouth. I’m so close, but I do as he asks and grip the base of my cock as he shouts out my name and comes.
I deserve a medal for holding off after that.
He pulls his T-shirt up, baring his chest and stomach. “Come on me,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded as he watches me. “Do it.”
He looks so filthy lying there with his cock still out, wet from my mouth. The lights from the tree play across his skin, bathing him in colours, then shadow.
Like the hottest Christmas gift I’ve just unwrapped.
I’m already on edge. Seeing him splayed out like that almost tips me over it. All it takes is a couple of strokes and I’m doing as he asked. Painting his skin as my release crashes through me.
It takes me a second or two to get my breath back.
I look down at the mess I’ve made of him, then catch his eye.
He grins.
So do I, and then we’re laughing.
Being with Charlie is just so much fucking fun. I feel younger with him, carefree in a way I haven’t in years.
Maybe that’s what makes me ask him again. Makes me brave enough to say the word. “Stay.”
He reaches for my hands, twines our fingers, but I read the answer in his eyes. “I can’t.” Doesn’t stop him from pulling me down into a kiss that feels like yes. Doesn’t stop me from kissing him back with everything I have.
But he still leaves at the end of the night, and I still let him.
I take consolation in the fact that I have his words to keep me company at night.
Even if I don’t have Charlie. I’m almost three-quarters of the way through his book, and I have to believe that his ex never read it.
If he had, he’d have realised how fucking talented Charlie is. He should’ve supported him regardless.
The words fly off the page and I can’t read them fast enough to find out what happens next.
But, Jesus Christ, it’s spooky as fuck.
The way he writes has a knack of drawing you in, making you experience every heart-pounding second that’s unfolding. At least that’s how it feels to me. I may be a little biased, but he’s good.