48. I have the key to your heart （and other vital organs）
CHAPTER 48
I HAVE THE KEY TO YOUR HEART (AND OTHER VITAL ORGANS)
EMMA
G ood standards should be easily understood and even easier to implement. Ideally, they should be system agnostic (hello, future-proofing), and not—let’s say—scrutinized for every available loophole, Charlie.
Good instructions are clear, concise, and specific.
Where to click and when, what to expect next, how to triage an issue.
The best kind of instructions aren’t instructions at all, but a mutual understanding of what is needed, to be followed with care and without prompting.
That’s precisely what life is like with Charlie.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder as I toe off my heels, then sink into the couch. “I can come over.”
“No, don’t,” Ivy says. “I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’ve had all day to think about it, and I’m happy. We knew they’d have to choose someone, and I’m glad it was me and not you.”
It’s been a week since Helix announced a companywide redundancy. Every day since has been torture, a slow, painful wait to see which of us would get the call.
Ivy got hers twenty minutes after she walked in this morning.
“I haven’t told Mom yet. I think I need a few days before I’m ready for that conversation, and if you’re free tomorrow, I could really use your help strategizing.”
“What about tonight?” I’ve only just walked in the door, still in my work clothes, but I’m more than willing to head out again.
Ivy sighs. “Tonight, I’m going downstairs to get properly drunk. Living above a bar is so efficient.”
My heart hurts for my best friend. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Right now all I need is five margaritas and a solid dicking down.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “I don’t think I can help with that.”
Ivy joins in, and the tight knot in my gut unwinds. Ever since she messaged me the news, I’ve been worried for her. I already have a list of job options at the ready, and I typed up a reference letter on my phone during my lunch break.
“Come over tomorrow. I’ll show you the ridiculously huge package I got. Speaking of which, go be with your obnoxiously obsessed boyfriend.”
Ending the call, I leave my phone in the living room with my shoes and make my way to the bedroom, unbuttoning my shirt as I go. If Charlie is home, he’s been unusually quiet.
It’s been two months since I moved in, and it was a ridiculously easy adjustment. The biggest issue we faced was dividing the closet.
Even my parents are closer now, living just outside the city, and after roping in Reese and Mae to help them move, Mom offered to volunteer as their stand-in receptionist while they looked for a new one. It’s been five weeks and counting.
Now I just need to convince Charlie to put in his notice like he’s been talking about. Once that’s done, I’ll have everything I need.
As I step across the threshold to our bedroom, I crash into the door frame.
Heart leaping right out of my chest, I gape. “Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie.”
My mouth is dry. My lungs? A desert. All the liquid in my body has flown south for the winter, and now I’m soaked, because Charlie fucking Walker is sitting naked before me, legs spread, a glinting sliver cock cage between his thighs.
“Fuck.”
He looks glorious. A god upon his throne, resplendent and sinful. He knows it too, sprawled casually on the chair, shit-eating grin firmly in place.
My blood is on fire, and he loves it.
“Don’t die before you get over here, sweetheart. You’ll break my heart.”
Sweetheart always sounds good, the way it slips sweetly from Charlie’s lips. Sometimes I swear I hear an accent poking through, a remnant of his past, an extra seasoning of personality (which he’s already abundant in).
But boss… boss might be better.
There’s nothing more exhilarating to me than having his cock in my hand and his will at my call.
Charlie. The man. The menace.
Under my control.
For a moment, I have to brace myself against the wall. I can’t move, and I certainly can’t look away from him. Not while he’s so… beautiful.
“You look incredible.”
He spreads his legs wider. “Yeah?”
Only Charlie could be this cocky while locked in a cage.
I drop my head back against the wall, my eyes never leaving his. Each breath is shaky, and I’m not even sure my legs work right now. I’m smiling, overwhelmed and happy and wrecked with want. Every inch of my skin is coated in goose bumps.
“You know you do. Now, where’s the key?”
“Next to you. Dresser.”
“Good.” I pocket it. “Hands on the chair and keep them there until I say so.”
He does it, but he’s smiling like he has a trick up his nonexistent sleeve. I’m already looking forward to cracking that facade, bringing Charlie to the brink of what he can withstand, then pushing just a little farther, until he’s begging me to let him come.
“Yes?” he asks, wagging his brows and grinning. “It looks like you want something.”
What I want is to devour him. To strip myself bare and use his tongue as my personal toy. I want to bathe us both in the inferno of my desire until he’s a whimpering mess, begging for release.
“You know what I want,” I say.
“Do I?”
I push off the wall, stalking toward him.
“Yes, you do.”