Chapter 19
Sawyer
The memory loops in my mind, relentless and unyielding.
Ava. At Hooplas. Talking to Charli. I can’t stop replaying it, the scene etched into my brain like a scar.
I know exactly what Ava was doing—going after Charli like a predator stalking prey.
It’s classic Ava: calculated, condescending, with that sneer that screams entitlement.
She couldn’t leave well enough alone, not even after I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with her.
I can almost see the way Ava’s eyes narrowed when she first saw Charli, the subtle tilt of her head as she leaned in, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.
I wasn’t there to hear the words, but I can imagine them.
Ava’s specialty was always cutting deep without leaving visible wounds.
She would have introduced herself, followed by a pause, a smirk, and then the daggers. She could always be spiteful.
I clench my fists at the thought. Ava knew exactly what she was doing—planting seeds of doubt, chipping away at Charli’s fragile confidence.
And Charli, with her kind heart and tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt, probably stood there, smiling politely, while Ava’s words burrowed into her skin.
I saw Ava earlier at the kickball field, sitting alone in the bleachers. I thought she’d gotten her closure earlier that afternoon in my office. I never imagined she’d show up at Hooplas. If I had, I wouldn’t have left Charli there for even a second.
The thought of Charli standing there, blindsided by Ava’s petty jabs and manipulative half-truths, makes my jaw clench. I don’t know exactly what Ava said, but I can guess. And knowing Ava, it was enough to cut deep, even if Charli didn’t let it show.
She shouldn’t have had to deal with that.
Now Charli is curled up on the couch, flipping absently through one of Mia’s wedding planning binders.
Her expression is calm, but distant, like her mind is miles away.
The binder lies open on her lap, pages filled with notes and menus, but her fingers barely move.
I’m just sitting here helpless beside her, watching the way her fingers brush the page edges, slow and deliberate, as if she’s lost in thought. Probably replaying Ava’s words.
I reach out, my hand brushing down her arm in a slow, soothing motion. “Are you okay?” My voice is low, rough with guilt even though I have done nothing wrong.
She nods without looking at me, her voice steady but hollow. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
But it doesn’t feel like a yes. It feels like a lie she’s telling herself, and me, to keep the peace.
I know Charli well enough by now—she’s the type to bottle things up, to smile through the pain.
But I can see it in her eyes, the way they flicker away from mine, the way her hands tremble just slightly as she turns the page.
I slide closer, my thigh pressing against hers. “Do you want to go take a shower?” My voice is a whisper, a promise of escape, of forgetting.
Her eyes flick to mine, and for the first time since she got home, she smiles—small, but real. “Only if you come with me.”
Something in my chest tightens, a mix of guilt and something darker, hotter.
I stand without another word, holding out my hand.
She takes it, her fingers warm in mine, and we walk upstairs together.
The silence between us is heavy, but not uncomfortable.
It’s charged, electric, like the air before a storm.
We reach my bathroom, and Charli turns on the water, the sound of it echoing off the tiles filling the room.
Steam curls against the glass door as she pulls her shirt over her head, revealing the soft curve of her shoulders and the delicate lace of her bra.
I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s so damn beautiful, even when she’s hurting.
Especially when she’s trying to hide it.
I step closer, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, then another just beneath her ear. Her hands slide up my chest, her nails dragging lightly down my stomach as I shed my clothes. The air is thick with anticipation, the tension between us palpable.
By the time we climb into the shower, there’s nothing between us but the heat and the water and everything we’re trying to say without saying it. The steam clings to our skin, fogging the glass as we move closer, our bodies pressing together.
Charli backs me against the wall, her mouth already on mine, her lips soft yet demanding.
She tastes like mint and something sweeter, something uniquely her.
I let her take the lead for a breathless moment, savoring the way she kisses me—hungry, desperate, like she’s trying to erase the taste of Ava’s words.
But then I flip our positions, pressing her against the tile, my hands roaming her curves, relearning every line like a man starved.
She gasps when I nip at her throat, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “You’re mine, Charli,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough with need. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to make you feel like this.”
She moans, her legs wrapping around my waist, her body pressing against mine. “Then show me.”
And I do.
My hands move down her body, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, before sliding between her legs.
She’s already wet and not from the water, her body responding to my touch like it’s been waiting for this.
I tease her slowly, my fingers circling her bundle of nerves, then slipping inside her, my thumb pressing against her most sensitive spot.
She cries out, her head falling back against the wall, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I growl, my mouth moving down her neck, sucking and biting gently. “So perfect. Only mine.”
She whimpers, her nails digging into my shoulders as I add another finger, thrusting into her rhythmically.
The water cascades over us, mixing with her moans, the sound echoing off the tile.
I lean in, my mouth capturing hers in a deep, bruising kiss, my tongue tangling with hers as my fingers work their magic.
“Please,” she begs, her voice shaky. “I need you.”
I pull my fingers out of her, her body trembling with need, and step back just enough to reach for the shelf.
I grab the bottle of shower gel, squeezing a generous amount into my hand before spreading it over my chest and down my abs.
Charli watches me, her eyes dark with desire, as I step back toward her, my erection pressing against her thigh.
“Turn around,” I command, my voice low and dominant.
She obeys, her back to me, and I press my chest against her, my hands sliding around her waist. I kiss the curve of her shoulder, my mouth trailing down her spine, before reaching around to cup her breasts.
I tease her nipples with my thumbs, rolling them between my fingers, until she’s arching into my touch, her breath hitching.
“You like that?” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear. “Like when I touch you? When I make you feel like this?”
“Yes,” she pants, her voice barely audible. “Yes, please.”
I chuckle, a dark, possessive sound, before spinning her around to face me. With her legs still wrapped around my waist, I press her against the wall. She gasps as I enter her in one smooth thrust, filling her completely.
“Mine,” I growl because I can’t help it, my hips snapping forward, my thrusts relentless. “You’re mine, Charli. Only mine.”
She moans, her head falling back against the wall, her body meeting my rhythm. The water beats down on us; the steam fogging the glass as we move together, our bodies slick and slippery. I kiss her fiercely, my hands gripping her hips, my thrusts deepening with each stroke.
“Say it, I demand, wanting to hear the words, my voice hoarse. “Say you’re mine.”
“Yours,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders as she holds on. “I’m yours. Only yours.”
The words send me over the edge. I thrust harder, faster, my control snapping as I chase my release. “Come with me,” I growl, my mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss. “Come for me, Charli.”
She cries out, her body tightening around me as she shatters, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. I follow, my release crashing into me, my name on her lips as I spill into her.
We stand there, breathless and soaked, our hearts pounding in unison. I press a soft kiss to her forehead, my hands stroking her back as we catch our breath.
“You okay now?” I ask, my voice gentle.
She nods, leaning into my chest with a contented sigh. “Yeah. Much better.”
I smile, a small, satisfied grin playing on my lips. Because I know she’s not thinking about Ava anymore.
Neither am I.
The steam continues to rise, fogging the glass. As we step out of the shower, our bodies still humming with the aftermath of our passion, I wrap a towel around her, then one around myself, before pulling her into my arms. She rests her head on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice soft.
I kiss the top of her head, my arms tightening around her. “Always.”
The moment is tender, intimate, but there’s an underlying tension, a question left unspoken. What happens next? How do we move forward from here?
I don’t have the answers, not yet. But for now, this is enough. This moment, this connection, this reminder of what we have together. The rest can wait.
For now, we stand here, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. The shower has washed away more than just the dirt, sweat, and tension—it’s cleansed our souls, leaving them raw, vulnerable, and undeniably connected.
But as Charli’s fingers pause on my skin, her touch lingering, I sense there’s more to come. More to uncover, more to explore. The story isn’t over—it’s only just begun.