Chapter 45
45
Thursday, August 21
11 Days Left at the Lake
Charlie stares straight at me in the photo. His cheeks are dimpled, his smile lit with wonder. But it’s the look in his eyes that leaves me breathless. It’s one I’ve seen before. It’s how Nan looked at Grandpa. It’s how my parents used to look at each other. It’s how Sam and Percy gaze at one another. I know the expression in my bones.
My heart hasn’t slowed since I examined the negative. I don’t know how I’ve failed to notice it, because the same look appears on Charlie’s face in at least half a dozen of the images. Maybe it was so fleeting I missed it, or maybe the camera kept the truth hidden from me.
I took this photo the day we made pickles with Nan. She’s in the background of the shot, an unfocused figure at the sink, and Charlie is in the fore. I think I’d just made a joke—something juvenile about his expert handling of cucumbers. He’d glanced up at me with what I thought was surprise.
Click .
But it’s not surprise on his face. Or that’s not all it is.
I press my palm to my cheek, feeling how hot it is, while I wait. I texted Charlie ten minutes ago. When I hear his knock, I jump. Slowly, I tear my gaze away from the photograph and go to the door.
Charlie’s smile drops as soon as he sees me. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing…you just startled me.” God, I’m nervous. “I thought you might like to see what I developed.”
“Absolutely.”
I lead Charlie to the darkroom and stand beside him.
“It’s a really good shot, Alice.”
“There are better ones,” I say. Some might even be great.
Charlie looks down at me, his mouth hooking upward. “Then why did you choose this one?”
I’m not sure whether he can’t see what I do, or if he’s in denial like I was. I straighten, hoping that standing tall like Nan will trick me into being brave.
“We met over the cucumbers,” I say.
His gaze melts—the same as in the photo. Just like it did yesterday afternoon before we jumped off that granite cliff into the lake, and again when we sat on his floating raft after we’d returned, feet dangling in the water. A monarch butterfly had landed on my finger. I raised it to my eye, telling it how pretty it was, then looked at Charlie, who was staring at me with the same bare adoration.
“So sentimental,” Charlie says now, but his voice is thick.
I meet his eyes, my pulse thundering. “This has been the best summer of my life,” I tell him. “These last two months have meant everything to me. I want to show you how much they’ve meant. How much you mean.”
His fingers brush against mine. “Alice.” My name falls from his lips like a plea. I see the tension in his neck, his shoulders.
“I want you,” I whisper. Charlie’s gaze darkens, not moving an inch as I rise on my toes and lean into his ear. “I want all of you.”
His face turns to me, green lightning flashing in his eyes. Before I’ve even set my heels back on the floor, Charlie’s hands are on me, lifting me clean off the ground. His mouth finds mine, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. His tongue is wanting, his sounds as desperate as my own.
“You have no idea,” he says, his lips skating down to my neck, “what you’re asking for.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” I say, tilting my chin back as he tastes my skin. Charlie flicks a switch, and the room goes dark except for the red light glowing over his face. Our lips collide again, frantic.
Charlie sets me down on the edge of the sink, stepping between my thighs. I reach up, pulling his face to me, taking his bottom lip between my teeth, hard enough that he hisses and then tugs my hips against him, letting me know how much he wants this.
“Don’t you dare hold back,” I say.
He groans. The word trouble vibrates in his chest.
I feel his fingers working at my bun, and then my hair falls over my shoulders. I reach for the fly of his pants as he slips the straps of my dress off my shoulder, the material puddling at my waist, leaving my breasts exposed.
“Fuck, Alice.”
I don’t know if he’s swearing because I didn’t wear a bra today, or because I have my hand around him. His fingers tease my nipple, a firm, rolling grip that has me tilting my head back. Charlie’s tongue finds the opposite breast, flicking in a way that has my legs squirming. We both moan as he pinches and sucks. My heel connects with something on the shelf below, and it crashes to the ground.
He pushes my dress up my legs, presses his thumb against the already damp fabric of my underwear, and I buck again, then hurry to push his jeans fully down his hips. “Now,” I tell him. “I want you now.”
We’ve already had the talk. He’s clear; I’m clear. Birth control? Check.
I lift my hips to pull down my panties, but Charlie rips them off.
I blink in shock, then laugh. “Always so dramatic.”
He grins as he pulls off his shirt, and the look is mischievous and sexy and wholly Charlie. The sight of his absurd body, how impressively large everything is, in the red light of a darkroom, is so filthy I’d laugh if I weren’t about to combust.
“You’re so hot,” I tell him.
His gaze travels over my body slowly, and he grips himself with his fist. He strokes himself as he presses a finger inside me, and then another. “So ready.”
“You have no idea,” I say, repeating his words back to him.
He moves his fingers, slowly, torturously, in and out. His eyes are locked on mine.
“Please,” I say. “Charlie.”
His grin is wicked, a promise of things to come. “Say it again,” he grinds out, taking my hips in his hands, pulling me so that he’s right there.
“Charlie,” I say as he pushes inside.
I gasp at the size of him, and he stills, eyes searching mine. “You okay?”
I nod. “Everything,” I tell him. “Please.”
He slowly presses, giving me time to adjust. But I don’t want time. I don’t want to adjust. I want him, and I want him now. I wrap my legs around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him into me. “All of you,” I tell him. “Hurry.”
He kisses me, hard, then he lifts me, and with one strong thrust, he’s there. I gasp his name.
“Don’t stop,” I say. I try to rotate my hips, but his grip is too strong. He holds me in place.
“I need a second, Alice,” he grits out, forehead on mine. “You feel too good.”
He inhales through his nose, and then his eyes find mine. A tremor runs through me at what I see there. He presses his lips to my scar and then to my lips. It’s the sweetest of kisses. My back meets the cool brick of the wall. His smile is quick, and then he’s moving with strong, unrelenting thrusts that steal my breath. I begin to squeeze my eyes shut, but I hear Charlie say, “Stay with me.”
“Too good,” I manage to say. Charlie is hitting me in the exact right spot, and everything inside me is coiling tight.
“Not yet,” Charlie says. “I’m not even close to being done with you.”
He gathers me up and drops onto a rolling stool. His mouth closes around one of my nipples, his hips still. My legs are spread over him, but my feet don’t reach the floor. There’s nothing for me to use as leverage. I’m at his mercy.
Charlie hums against my skin, his tongue finding the tightened flesh. His hand comes between us, and the feeling of his lips and his fingers is almost too much—and then his hips begin to rock. My thighs start shaking, and Charlie eases off. I growl.
“Stop showing off,” I pant the third time he brings me to the edge. I can feel my pulse all over my body, hypersensitive.
He gives me a half smile, his bottom lip held between his teeth, and grinds out, “This is nothing.”
I roll my eyes, and he nips at my earlobe. “Wait till I get you in a bed,” he growls against my neck, and a thrill runs through me.
“Tonight,” I say.
He nods. “Tonight.”
He positions me so I can sink on top of him, my knees around his thighs. Like this, I can move. Being on top has always made me feel vulnerable, nervous, like I might do something wrong. I circle my hips once, tentatively. I look between us, feeling awkward, and then back to Charlie. I don’t have to say anything. One hand curves around my waist to guide me. Still, Charlie lets me take the lead, feel what works for me. He stares up at me, murmuring praises, saying my name, and any trace of self-consciousness vanishes. I can be myself with Charlie. Even like this, he only wants me as I am.
I can tell he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, to keep himself from taking over. His fingers are between my legs, urging me closer. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth again, tendons in his neck straining, and the sight of this man coming undone beneath me is intoxicating. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this powerful.
When I cry out, white-hot pleasure ripping through me in shuddering waves, Charlie brings my mouth to his. Our kisses are deep, our tongues searching, and when he begins to pick up his pace, my nerve endings tighten and ripple once more. One orgasm is about to roll into another, or maybe it never ended. I’d be surprised, except this is Charlie. He can play my body like it has black and white keys.
I tell him I’m still coming, and he smiles against my lips. Charlie watches me, grinning that sexy, smirky grin of his. He doesn’t let up until I go limp, and I collapse against his chest, trying to recapture my breath.
His hand traces a path up and down my spine, tangling in the ends of my hair. The contrast of how big he is and how gentle his touches are brings goose bumps to my arms.
I press my lips to his chest. Sample it with my tongue. Hum at how much I like the salt of his skin. I move to his shoulder. His neck. Jaw. Tasting. Kissing. Sucking. Biting.
“I could make a meal out of you,” I murmur.
Charlie laughs. “I think you already are.”
I move on to his mouth. “This is my favorite part.”
“Kissing?”
“Your lips.” I suck on his bottom one, releasing it with a pop. “The way they flirt and smirk and tease.” I trace the arches of his top lip with my tongue.
His whole face smiles back at me, not just the curve of his mouth. Dimples. The lines at his temples. The glint of his eyes.
“I must be slipping if my mouth is still your favorite part.”
I grin. “Maybe you need to try a little harder. You just made me do all the work.”
I’ve barely finished the sentence when Charlie has us both on our feet. His hands skate over my arms and he drops a kiss to my neck.
“You trust me?”
“I trust you.” I’m trembling with anticipation as Charlie turns me around and bends me over the counter.
I trust him more than anyone.
I can’t stop smiling. Charlie and I parted hours ago, and the giddy grin hasn’t left my face.
“Would you like to tell me why you look like the cat who ate the canary?” Nan asks as we sip tea on the deck. Charlie had plans with Harrison this afternoon, but my gaze keeps drifting to his dock, waiting for a glimpse of him. “Or shall I guess?”
I don’t reply, just lift my mug to my still-swollen lips.
“Tall, handsome, and strong as a grizzly?” Nan looks at me over her glasses, and my smile grows.
“Face like a movie star? Voice made for the radio? A backside that could crack a walnut?”
I choke on my tea.
“Shall I go on?” Nan says as my phone buzzes.
Heather: Yesssssssss!!! GET IT, ALI!
Heather: Tell me EVERYTHING. When? Where? How was it?
Heather: GIRTH!!!!!
More overexcited messages follow. I couldn’t hold it in. The best sex of my life with a man I’ve come to care about deeply. I had to tell someone.
Strangely, my first instinct was to call Charlie as soon as we kissed goodbye.
“Can you believe that just happened?” I wanted to say. “Can you believe how good it was?”
Heather was my next option.
I dash out a reply.
Me: Today. Darkroom. Exquisite. Can’t talk now. Call you later.
Heather: YESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! TREVOR, WHO!?
I laugh, then turn my attention back to Nan.
“Do you mind if I spend the night at Charlie’s?”
“Of course not,” she says, setting her cup down.
The next time my eyes travel to the Floreks’ dock, I see him standing there. Charlie waves, and we wave back.
“I told you,” Nan says, smiling over the water.
“What’s that?”
She glances at me. “Good things happen at the lake.”