Chapter 14
Xander
I’m lost in everything that is Charlotte. Her blue eyes, the soft sea of blonde hair, and her flushed cheeks I’m holding in my hands consume me. A never-ending flame burns into all my cells as her mouth and tongue caress mine.
The scent of flowers after the rain is stronger than in my dreams, and when I hear her moan or cry out my name, it’s as if I’m somehow home.
That’s how Charlotte makes me feel...like home.
Billie never made you feel this way.
The thought lodges in my brain, but I push past it, not wanting to miss a single moment of having Charlotte in my arms.
Night after night, I dreamed of her. Faceless for six months, then last night, it was even more real when I saw her face, but tonight, right now, it’s the most intense moment I’ve ever had.
“You’re perfect,” I tell her as I stare into her blue eyes. And she is. Every single part of her. “We’re perfect together,” I say to her, not able to control what comes out of my mouth.
I don’t know what it is, but around her, I say whatever is on my mind, without holding back or wondering if I should say it or not.
Her eyes catch mine, and her head nods. The most gorgeous mouth I’ve ever seen is in the O that has been haunting my dreams every night.
She slightly shudders, like in my dream, but this time, it’s real. She’s here, in my arms. I pull her even tighter into me before my hands drop from her back and cup her ass, as her walls spasm.
“Xander,” she whimpers, digging her fingers into my shoulders as her breasts heave against my chest.
I taste the salt of her skin, more prominent than in my dreams, and I taste it again, sucking on the curve of her neck, licking her collarbone, elated by every noise that comes out of her glorious mouth.
Her skin is like glitter, shining in the dark. Warm and smooth, it slides against my flesh, melting into me.
“Beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her as she vibrates harder, and her eyes blink, trying to focus.
How can she be so perfect?
“Xander,” she whimpers, and my balls tighten.
I thrust into her harder. “I...I...oh…,” she cries out as her walls collapse against my cock and send me into a wonderland of adrenaline.
Gripping her harder, I pump into her forcefully, as she oscillates on top of me in the most beautiful, angelic eruption I’ve ever seen.
I keep my arms wrapped around her, stroking her lower back and ass, entwining my legs with hers as she nuzzles my neck. Breathing hard, I don’t move, wanting to keep her right where she is forever. I’m not sure how many times I kiss the top of her head.
I don’t know what she’s pondering, but I’m full of emotions and, if I open my mouth, I can’t guarantee what will come out. So I stroke her head and continue to shower her with kisses, holding her tight.
The memory of feeding her pancakes while she wore a black silk robe, and screwing on her barstool, flies back to me. It was probably four in the morning, and her stomach growled. She admitted she hadn’t eaten that day, and I cooked for her.
“We need pancakes,” I said to her.
“Pancakes?” She looked at me funny.
I grinned at her. “Yeah, pancakes. You stay in bed, and I’ll make them.”
“You want to make me pancakes?” She looked at me like she didn’t believe me.
I laughed and kissed her then got up, threw a towel around my waist, and headed for the kitchen. She came out in her robe and watched me. When they were ready, I sat down on the barstool and pulled her into my lap then fed her, which then led to sex right where we sat.
The memory is crystal clear, and hope grows inside me that the rest of the holes in my mind will eventually be filled.
Charlotte slowly moves her head out of my neck and looks up at me. I peck her lips. Stroking her cheek, I stare into her eyes. “You okay?”
She smiles and nods. “What are you thinking about?”
“Pancakes.”
She laughs. “You must really like pancakes.”
I grin at her. “I do.”
She laughs.
God, her laugh is sexy and sweet.
“It’s so vivid. It gives me hope.”
She cups my face. “Never lose hope, Xander.”
I know hope is important to her. There was a text conversation about her days in the orphanage and hope. It’s another reminder to me about how special she is. And it makes me want to protect her against the world and anyone who tries to harm her.
“Don’t lose hope in me,” I whisper to her and blink as emotion overcomes me.
I’m a man who can’t remember over a decade of important pieces of his life.
And it plays with my mind, making me question who I am and what kind of person.
And I think about Charlotte and all she’s already gone through, and then I think about what I’ve put her through and still am, and my soul gets crushed.
I struggle with hatred toward myself for hurting her, my inability to remember my own life, and my thoughts and feelings for an ex-flame I’m told I shouldn’t think twice about, when the most beautiful woman on earth is right in front of me.
“Shh.” She puts her finger to my lips. “I won’t. I promise.”
I blink. A tear falls down my cheek, and I turn away from her, ashamed of my inability to have my life together.
She kisses my tear away, and her luscious lips are on mine, pulling me back into the Nirvana that only exists with her.
“Stay the night,” she whispers.
“Yeah? I can?”
“Yeah.” She reclaims my lips as hers, and I realize how alone and empty I’ve felt these last few months, like a piece of my soul has been missing.
Charlotte makes me feel whole again. As messed up as my head is, she still wants me and is putting up with shit she shouldn’t have to deal with. But she is.
I cup her face and pull back from her kiss. “Hey.”
She scans my eyes.
“I have a Scrabble game to beat you at.”
She laughs.
“You have some blankets?”
She tilts her head at me. “Yes. Why?”
“I’ll play in my boxers. Clothing is optional for you, but I’m biased toward your black silk robe.” I wink at her.
Charlotte arches a brow. “Is this your way of trying to distract me?”
“It’s my way of trying to keep you half naked all night, but I won’t have a problem undressing you again when the time comes.”
“Is that all talk or a promise?”
I lick my lips and say, “That’s a promise.”
Wearing hardly any clothes and wrapped up in blankets, we eat cold Chinese food and play Scrabble for hours, creating medical words any average person would find disgusting or not even know is a word.
We’re on our third game, which is the tiebreaker, and Charlotte creates a word worth 167 points.
“You have to be kidding me,” I groan.
She throws her arm in the air. “I win!”
“You’re the master of gore,” I tell her.
She beams.
I laugh. “That’s pretty hot.”
“That’s what you told me the first night you met me.”
I stare at her in question, wishing I could remember meeting her but having no recollection.
“I grossed Vivian and Quinn out when I told you I liked pus more than blood because it’s less predictable.”
“That is hot.”
She smiles at me, lighting up the room, and I wonder how she became the amazing person she is when she had gone through so much as a child.
How could no one have ever loved her, yet she’s still so sweet and kind and loving?
I must stare at her too long because she nervously asks, “What?”
I crawl over and pull her into my lap. “Tell me about what it was like to grow up in an orphanage.”
She freezes, staring at me, not breathing.
“Sorry. I swear my brain doesn’t work correctly around you. You don’t have to answer that.”
Charlotte lets out a breath. “It’s lonely and sad.”
I stroke her hair and pull her closer. “How old were you when you got there?”
“Three.”
My heart is breaking, and I don’t know why I’m making her tell me this. I can tell it’s painful, but I continue asking her questions.
“What happened?”
“My parents died in a crash, and there wasn’t anyone to take me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She swallows hard then shrugs.
I imagine a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, three-year-old, scared, sad, and lonely. My heart bleeds more for her.
Stroking her cheek, I tell her, “I think you’re amazing.”
She gives me a sad smile, then says, “What about your parents? They were traveling when you had your accident?”
“They’re retired and aren’t in the country often. I’ve seen them a few times since then, but they are somewhere in Europe right now. I lose track where.”
“I already know you don’t have any siblings...”
“No, there’s just me.”
“So who’s been watching you since the accident?”
I laugh. “No one. I can take care of myself.”
She tilts her head at me and scans my eyes. “That sounds lonely.”
My pulse goes up. The guys have been there for me, but it has been lonely...and depressing, too.
Her hands lace together behind my head, and I get this strange sense of déj? vu, but I can’t pinpoint it. “I can’t imagine how hard this has been on you. I’m here if you ever need to talk, Xander.”
A wave of emotion hits me so hard I have to blink tears back, and I turn my head away from her.
“Hey,” she softly says, and I turn back to her. Her hand brushes the side of my head. “Everything will be okay.”
How does she know?
It’s as if she’s tapping into my thoughts, digging into the fear I have that things are never truly going to be okay again.
It’s a simple phrase, “everything will be okay,” and I’ve heard it from many people.
Somehow, coming from Charlotte, it’s like she actually understands my fears without me even saying them.
It’s like everything from the last six months comes rushing to the surface, and the dam breaks. Maybe it’s because I held it in for so long, or possibly because she is the only one who seems to understand me, but she pulls me into her chest, and I have a total breakdown, as tears flow out of me.
Charlotte holds me tight, kissing the top of my head.
“What if it never comes back,” I choke out.
“Everything will still be okay.
“Will it?”
“Yes.” She says it as if there is no room to argue, and it makes me believe, if only at that moment, it will be.
She pulls away and cups my cheeks in her hands. Her blue eyes, full of compassion, stare into mine. “What’s the worst part of not remembering?”
“Originally the frustration or confusion of not remembering, but that’s no longer the worst thing.”
“What is?”
I haven’t known her for years, and besides my dreams, reading old text messages, and the pancakes, I don’t remember our time together.
Technically, I’ve only been around her for a few days, but everything about Charlotte makes me feel like I’ve known her forever, and she’s special.
And I know her last six months have been painful because of me. “That I’ve hurt you.”
She blinks back her tears and uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears seeping out of my eyes. She says, “That’s not your fault.”
“It is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I hate myself for it.” And I do. I’m not only telling her that. In the last two days, I’ve beaten myself up too many times to count over the fact I’ve caused her any pain in her life. She’s already had a lifetime’s worth and deserves nothing but to be loved.
She puts her forehead to mine. “Don’t.”
I turn from her. She lays her palm on my cheek and brings me back to face her. “Don’t.”
How can she not hate me for what I’ve put her through?
A different confusion fills my mind as I melt into her blue eyes full of concern for me, when I deserve anything but that from her.
Then she kisses me, giving herself once again so freely to me, telling me she will be mine forever if I want her.
It kills me further, as I kiss her back, not able to control myself, but knowing I need to get my memory back and get Billie out of my head once and for all. I’m not 100 percent Charlotte’s until I do. And that’s what she deserves.
We make love several times throughout the night. When I finally fall asleep, Charlotte is curled in my arms, and everything feels right. I have a notion things will be okay, that going forward, I won’t hurt her anymore, but that is my mistake.
I should have stayed awake.