Chapter Fifteen #2
They stared at each other long enough that the feelings of desire and attraction she kept trying to ignore shimmered inside of her, making her feel edgy and off-kilter.
Logically, she had a couple of options here: keep her distance, be polite but aloof.
A well-practiced art for her. She could go stay on the mainland closer to the university.
On the opposite end of the choice spectrum, she could kiss the hell out of him and see if it was every bit as hot as she dreamed it would be.
Grayson cleared his throat. “Do I want to know what you’re thinking?” His voice was rough and deeper than usual. He stepped closer.
Her senses filled with the scent of his cologne and fresh air. She wanted to curl into it, hide away from everything else. When her clients were overwhelmed, she told them to use the five-senses strategy. Find or say something you see, smell, hear, touch, and taste.
She could see how long Grayson’s eyelashes were, smell his woodsy aftershave, hear the uneven cadence of his breaths. She wanted to touch him. To taste him.
The front of his body brushed hers, sending shivers along her skin, awareness through her blood.
“Charlie,” he whispered, sounding like he’d pulled the word from somewhere deep inside.
Her hands trembled as she reached out to place them on his chest. A wave of want crashed over her when his hands found her hips, his fingers tightening against her body through her leggings.
When she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to stop any embarrassing sounds from escaping her mouth, his eyes tracked the movement and he groaned, lowered his head a couple of inches, bringing their faces closer. Their breaths intertwined and everywhere he touched felt like a pulse point.
She told herself to step back. To think about why she was here, what she was running from, and how she didn’t want to complicate things further.
Then she thought about how long it’d been since she’d simply taken what she wanted, something just for her that no one could take away.
When was the last time she’d seized an opportunity to be selfish and fall into the moment?
When was the last time she’d been given a moment like this one?
Gray’s hand came to the nape of her neck, allowing his thumb to rest on her cheek. “You have to say it, Charlie. You have to be sure.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt, gripping it as she went up on her tiptoes.
Here, where there were no cameras, reality shows, evil stepsisters, jobs to lose, or people to judge her, she could find her way back to herself.
Figure out who she really was and what she wanted.
This. What she wanted, in this moment, more than anything, was Grayson.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, the sound cutting off before the word was finished because he did exactly that and Charlie’s arms went around his neck to hold on. To anchor herself as she let the waves crash against her and let this man pull her under.
Grayson’s lips were soft, a contrast to the hard kiss that flipped her thoughts upside down and made her body crave something she couldn’t put into words.
Something she’d never felt. The hand on her waist slipped around, found the small of her back, pressing their bodies closer together, until even air fought for space between them.
His other hand sank into her hair, tugging gently.
Charlie clung to him—there was no other word for it—as he took the kiss deeper, his tongue dancing against hers, obliterating all thought.
She could only feel: his hard frame against her softer one, his hand roaming and caressing, her heart racing, the breeze dancing over their skin, his lips gentle and coaxing, then hard and demanding.
Back and forth like a sideways roller coaster of want and need, Grayson kissed her like he was memorizing the feel and taste of her, like he couldn’t stand the thought of breaking the kiss, even for air.
He said her name as he trailed kisses over her cheek, along her jaw, down the column of her neck, and back to her mouth. It could have been seconds or minutes, but it felt like an eternity and a flash all at once when he pulled back, pressed his forehead to hers.
“Jesus Christ. We’re lucky we didn’t start a forest fire,” he said through choppy breaths.
Charlie laughed as she closed her eyes to absorb the closeness, the sweetness of the moment that was almost as enjoyable as the kiss.
“We might be in some trouble, Charlie.”
Opening her eyes to meet his gaze, she held it as she held him. “I’ve never been someone to look for trouble, but right now, nothing has ever sounded better.”
As they moved together again, someone called Grayson’s name. Uncle Grayson, to be precise. Charlie stepped back, not altogether steady.
His smile was soft and intimate. Like a secret she actually wanted to keep.
“I’m looking forward to tonight,” he said.
She nodded because she wasn’t capable of much more than that.
Watching him walk back between the cottages and call out to Ollie, she wrapped her arms around herself and did her best to ground herself again.
Because that kiss? It’d absolutely lifted her up and transported her somewhere new.
Somewhere magnificent that she’d never been.
And she couldn’t wait to go back. If she focused only on kissing him and spending time with him, she could pretend that she hadn’t just invited a whole other layer of complication into her life.
Her mother might be the actress in the family, but Charlie was eager to play the role of carefree young woman with nothing weighing her down. Even if it was just for the night.