Chapter 20 Charlie
TWENTY
charlie
I can’t sleep.
It’s three in the morning, and I’m staring at the ceiling of my bedroom again, knowing that Willa is under my roof. Just down the hall. Nestled in Beau’s bed, sound asleep, soft and satisfied.
The knowledge is driving me insane.
I’ve been lying here for hours, listening to the house settle, trying not to think about her.
Trying not to imagine what she looks like right now, her hair spread across Beau’s pillow, her body curled against him.
Trying not to think about the fact that Jake and Beau have touched her, tasted her, claimed her in ways I haven’t yet.
The jealousy is irrational. We’re a pack. What’s mine is theirs, what’s theirs is mine. That’s how this works.
But fuck, I want her. Have wanted her for years. And now she’s here, so close I can almost feel her, and I’m lying in my bed alone like a coward.
I throw off the covers and pad out into the hallway, barefoot and shirtless, wearing only the sweatpants I pulled on before bed. The house is dark except for the soft glow of the nightlight in the bathroom.
I can smell her everywhere. Buttercups and vanilla, sweet and rich, layered underneath with Beau’s bergamot and leather and Jake’s chocolate and spice. The combination is intoxicating, proof that she’s been thoroughly loved by my pack brothers.
She’s ours now. Even if she doesn’t fully believe it yet.
I pause outside Beau’s door. It’s cracked open, and I can hear the soft sound of breathing from inside—two people, not three. Jake must have gone back to his own room.
I should go back to bed. Should give her space. Should wait until morning to—
A sound from downstairs makes me freeze. The soft pad of footsteps, the quiet creak of the kitchen floor. No one in this house moves that quietly.
She’s awake.
I move down the stairs silently and stop at the kitchen doorway.
And there she is.
Willa’s standing in front of the open freezer, bathed in the cool light, wearing one of Beau’s oversized shirts that hits her mid-thigh.
Her legs are bare, long and lean and perfect, and her hair is mussed from sleep and other activities.
The shirt shifts as she moves, and I catch a glimpse of the exposed skin of her thighs. I bet they are so soft.
My mouth goes dry.
She’s rifling through the freezer, muttering something under her breath, and then she bends over to reach something on the bottom shelf. The shirt rides up, and I get a perfect view of her ass. She isn’t wearing anything under that T-shirt, and a groan escapes me before I can stop it.
She jumps, spinning around with a pint of ice cream clutched to her chest like a shield.
“Charlie!” Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.” She glances down at herself, seems to realize how little she’s wearing, and tugs at the hem of the shirt self-consciously. “I was just… hungry.”
“Ice cream at three in the morning?”
“Heat aftermath.” She wrinkles her nose. “Makes me hungry and crave weird things. Don’t judge.”
“Not judging.” I step into the kitchen, keeping my distance even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to cross the space between us. “What’s weird about ice cream?”
“Weird because I was also going to salt it.” She holds up the salt shaker as evidence, her cheeks flushing pink.
I blink. “You’re going to… salt your ice cream?”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s good. The salt brings out the sweetness.” She’s defensive now, clutching both the ice cream and salt shaker to her chest. “It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do.”
“Uh-huh.” I can’t help the grin spreading across my face. “And does this ‘reasonable’ craving have anything to do with the—?”
I break off, not sure how to reference what this is. Instead, I gesture at her and then upstairs.
Her blush deepens. “Maybe. Heat aftermath makes me want weird combinations. Last time it was pickles and peanut butter.”
“Jesus, Wills.”
“Don’t judge me, Holt.” But she’s smiling now, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.
“Okay, you’re right. It’s weird,” I admit, leaning against the counter across from her, putting the kitchen island between us. Safer that way. Distance is good.
Distance keeps me from doing something stupid like crossing this kitchen and kissing her until neither of us can think straight.
“But you’re welcome to anything we have. Raid the whole kitchen if you want. Salt all the ice cream. We don’t care.”
“Just the ice cream?” She’s teasing now, and I love the sound of it in her voice.
“Anything, Wills. The pantry, the fridge, the freezer. Hell, Beau’s got a stash of fancy chocolate hidden in the back of that drawer if you want that, too.” I pause, my voice dropping. “Whatever you need, it’s yours. You don’t have to ask permission.”
The words hang between us, heavier than I intended. Her smile falters slightly, and she looks away, fidgeting with the ice cream lid.
“I wanted to thank you,” she says quietly. “For offering the pack’s support. For… all of this. I know it wasn’t what you planned.”
“Maybe not planned,” I say carefully. “But it’s what I wanted.”
Her eyes snap back to mine, surprised. “Charlie—“
“I mean it. You being here, with us—it’s not some obligation or favor we’re doing you. It’s…” I search for the right words. “It’s everything falling into place the way it should have years ago.”
She swallows hard, her grip tightening on the ice cream. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Because.” She shakes her head. “Because it makes this harder. Makes it harder to keep my walls up. To protect myself.”
“Maybe you don’t need walls with us.” I take a small step closer, testing. “Maybe you’re safe here. Really safe. Not just physically, but…”
“Emotionally?” She lets out a shaky laugh. “That’s the scary part, Charlie. I can handle physical. I know how to deal with that. But this?” She gestures between us. “You guys offering me everything, making me feel like I belong—that’s terrifying.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“It is, though. Because what happens when the two months are up? When this fake courtship ends, and I’m supposed to just… what? Walk away as if none of this mattered?”
“Who says it has to end?” The question comes out before I can stop it.
She stares at me, her gray eyes wide. “Charlie…”
“I’m just saying—we don’t have to follow the rules we set. We can change them. Make new ones.” I force myself to stay where I am, even though everything in me wants to close the distance between us. “If you want to.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she whispers. “Everything’s so confusing.”
“Then don’t think about it right now. Just…” I nod toward the ice cream. “Eat your weird salty ice cream. Be here with me. We don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”
She nods slowly, opening the pint and grabbing a spoon from the drawer. She takes a bite, then reaches for the salt shaker, sprinkling just a pinch over the top. When she takes the next bite, her eyes close and a small, satisfied sound escapes her.
“Better?” I ask.
“Mmm. So much better.” She takes another bite, and I watch her relax incrementally, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “You think I’m weird.”
“I think you’re perfect.”
She looks up at me, spoon halfway to her mouth, and something shifts in the air between us. The playfulness fades, replaced by something heavier, more charged.
“Charlie…” Her voice is soft, uncertain.
“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” The question comes out before I can stop it.
She blinks, surprised. But nods her head.
I can still see it clearly—the back horse pen, the summer heat, the way she looked at me with those big gray eyes full of determination. “You just… did it. Didn’t warn me or anything.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “You looked so shocked.”
“I was. You were my best friend’s little sister. And you just grabbed my shirt and kissed me.” I shake my head at the memory. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“It was terrible,” she says, but she’s smiling for real now. “I bumped your nose. And you just stood there like a statue.”
“I was terrified. Terrified your brother would find out. Terrified of how much I liked it. Terrified of what it meant that I wanted you to do it again.” I move closer. “I’ve wanted to redo that moment a hundred times over the years. Get it right this time.”
She swallows hard, watching me approach. “Charlie…”
“Can I try?” I ask, stopping just out of reach—but I don’t miss the way her scent swells in the air. I nod toward her ice cream. “Let me have a bite.”
She considers this for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”
I close the distance between us and, before she can protest, I lift her effortlessly onto the counter. She makes a small sound of surprise, her legs dangling, pretty bare feet, cute as fuck. Her thighs are slightly apart, the ice cream still clutched in her hands.
This close, I can smell her—buttercups and vanilla and underneath it all, the heady musk of her slick and my pack that makes my Alpha sit up and take notice.
“Spoon?” I ask.
She fumbles with the one in her hand, her fingers grazing mine as she hands it to me. The first scoop is loaded with cookie dough chunks, and I hold it up to her lips.
“Open.”
She does, her eyes locked on mine, and I slide the spoon into her mouth. Watching her pouty, swollen lips close around it, watching her eyes flutter closed as she tastes it—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Good?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Mmm.” She nods, swallowing. “Really good.”
I feed her another bite, then take one myself. Her eyes never leave the spoon on its slow journey to my lips. Somewhere between the spoonful and the low groan I make—because it’s fucking good—the moment shifts.
Her breathing changes. Her pupils dilate.
“Charlie,” she breathes.
“Willa.” I lean in, my hands braced on either side of her hips on the counter, caging her in. “What do you think? Should we have a do-over?”
The only answer I need is the slight shift of her hips toward me and the parting of her lips—then my mouth is on hers, claiming the kiss I’ve always wished we’d had.
I kiss her. Like I'm starving.