Chapter 8 #2
Her chest rises and falls in quick succession, mirroring my own rapid breathing.
Neither one of us moves or says a thing. We stand in the middle of my closet, staring at one another, and there’s never been a moment when I’ve ever wanted to read someone’s mind more.
I’m dying to know what she’s thinking.
Is she recalling our kiss? Is she wishing it’d happen again? I know I am.
My eyes rake over her face. I’ve always known she’s beautiful.
I accepted my attraction to her the moment we met.
But I didn’t pursue her the way I typically would because she made it clear early on that nothing would ever happen between us.
I made sure to bury the attraction because I didn’t want to mess anything up.
She was off-limits, and because of that, I’ve never taken the time to appreciate just how stunning she is until now.
She’s still off-limits. Her stopping the kiss proves that. But at this very moment, there’s no use in burying my attraction. It runs rampant through my veins. There’s no burying it.
I trace the curve of her cheekbones with my gaze. Even in the dim lighting, I can see the flush to her cheeks. I can’t help but wonder if I could turn them from the soft shade of pink to a scarlet just from kissing her…from touching her.
I swallow and close my eyes for a moment.
I feel dizzy, and I’m not even touching. All I’m doing is looking at her and I feel lightheaded.
I close my eyes for a moment as the truth settles deep in my chest. I can try and blame the drinks all I want, but it’s no use. I’m not drunk off the wine. I’m drunk off Charlotte.
I open my eyes to find her still watching me carefully. I needed out of the living room desperately to try to wipe the memory of our kiss from my mind, but it turns out maybe I just need to be away from her to forget it.
The only problem is I don’t want to be away from her. I want to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her body flush to mine and finish what we started in the living room.
“Arms up,” I hoarsely demand.
Charlotte looks up at me in confusion but does as she’s told. She lifts her arms over her head slowly. Or maybe it just feels slow because my head is fuzzy because of her as I pay close attention to her every move.
“Good girl,” I whisper with a smirk. My attempt to lighten the tension between us doesn’t work. I thought she’d roll her eyes or scold me for the saying, but instead, her breath hitches, and her eyes go wide as she stares expectantly up at me.
I know she’s fully capable of taking off her own shirt. It’d honestly probably be smarter for me to leave her alone in the closet to get changed, but I can’t get my feet to move. They stay planted as I reach for the hem of her shirt.
With every move I make, I watch her closely. If she gives any indication that she feels uncomfortable with what’s happening, I’ll stop. I’ll leave the room and do my best to pretend that none of this ever happened.
But she doesn’t say anything. As I begin to inch the fabric up her body to remove the wine-stained shirt, she stays perfectly still with her arms raised above her head.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Charlotte asks, breaking the silence.
I pause, the fabric of her shirt still fisted in my hands and lifted enough to show off her stomach but not quite high enough to get a glimpse of her bra. “How am I looking at you?”
Her eyes flick to my mouth, and I swear she’s testing every bit of restraint I have. “Like I’m not just your friend.” Her words are said so quietly I wouldn’t have been able to hear them if it weren’t for how close we’re standing.
Because of the proximity, I’m sure she hears my sharp intake of breath at her words.
I hadn’t expected her to call me out like that.
My mind races with how I can even respond.
Should I be honest with her? Or do I do the right thing for our friendship and tell her it’s just the drinks so we can wake up tomorrow and pretend none of this happened?
I swallow. My mouth suddenly feels incredibly dry.
“I don’t know how else to look at you right now,” I confess.
She doesn’t respond, and it’s just another moment I so desperately wish I could get into her mind to find out what she’s thinking.
Is she feeling the same tension I am? She stares up at me with her wide, beautiful, big blue eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if the way she looks at me is a way she looks at a friend or if there’s more to it.
I ache for there to be more to it, but I’m not brave enough to ask.
My heart slams against my chest as I continue what I started.
I pull the fabric up, revealing more of Charlotte’s perfect skin inch by inch.
I fight every urge to look down and appreciate her, but I know that wouldn’t be appropriate.
Instead, I keep my gaze on hers as I lift the fabric up until it’s over her head and off her body completely.
She stands in front of me in nothing but her skirt uniform and a bra.
From the corner of my vision, I can tell it’s the same bra she had on this morning.
It takes everything in me for my gaze not to move from hers as I toss her wine-stained shirt to the side and grab mine.
I’m quick at getting the shirt onto her body to stifle the temptation to look at her bare skin.
“Is that better?”
Charlotte nods. “Yes. Thank you.” The smile she gives me slices right to my heart.
Fuck. I want her. Desperately.
I scrub my hand over my face and rip my gaze from hers because I need a moment of relief. “Sweet.” My gaze focuses on the bathroom as I try to think what to say now. I want to get as far away from her as I can, while at the same time, I’m still fighting the urge to pull her body into mine.
“Want to watch a movie or something?” Char asks.
The question takes me by surprise. I can’t help but look at her again. “A movie?”
She nods as she gives me a tentative smile. “Yeah. A movie. We love to watch movies, and I figured I’m too buzzed to go to sleep yet, and…”
Her words trail off, and I give her a few moments to continue her thought. When she doesn’t, I choose to fill the silence instead. “Is watching a movie your way of ending the card game so you don’t officially lose?”
Charlotte’s eyes go wide, and I try to ignore the way her soft giggle feels like a punch to the gut. “Oh, if we kept playing, I would’ve made a comeback. But the wine’s getting to my head too much to play a game. I want a movie instead.”
My jaw tenses as I fight the urge to tell her that it isn’t the wine getting to my head…it’s her. I know I should probably say no to the movie and go to bed instead so I can maybe sleep off these funny feelings she’s giving me.
But I can’t.
If she wants to watch a movie together, I’m going to watch a movie with her. No matter how much it might torture me to do so.
I hold my hand out in point to the exit for my closet. “Then let’s go watch a movie.”