FOUR
Noah
We shared an Uber back to my place, and during the drive, Charlotte asked for my address. “I’m texting it to a friend,” she said, “so they know where to start if I go missing.”
Even though she’d been teasing, the guy driving locked eyes with me in the rearview mirror, wordlessly accusing me of plotting her murder.
“I get it.” It was smart, because she didn’t know much about me. I strove to match her joking tone. “Hope I haven’t been giving off serial killer vibes.”
She smiled and shook her head.
When we pulled up in front of my house, her mouth dropped open. “You live here?”
Pride swept through me. I shouldn’t have cared that she was impressed, but I was anyway. “Yeah.”
“It’s really nice.”
“Thanks.”
We got out, and she followed me up the path and onto the front porch, waiting as I unlocked the door. I pushed it open—only to thrust a hand across the doorway and block her from entering. “So, uh... it’s kind of a disaster in here. I wasn’t expecting company.”
Especially since Patrick and Shannon had told me they didn’t play on the first date.
She laughed softly. “It’s cool. I know you just moved in.” She ducked under my arm and stepped inside. “I’m not scared of some boxes or some—”
Charlotte pulled to a stop, and I didn’t need to follow her gaze to figure out what she was looking at. I hadn’t lied. My house was a fucking mess. There were open boxes and packing paper strewn about because I’d done a shitty job of labeling stuff, and nearly every day I’d had to cut one open and rummage through the contents, searching for something.
And there were large, empty boxes, and piles of plastic shipping bags stacked where a dining table was supposed to go, because I hadn’t bought one yet.
“This place is a lot bigger than my last one,” I said quickly. “I’m still working on putting together some of my new furniture.”
Judy hadn’t lied. It was stunning how fucking messy moving could be.
Charlotte was tense as she took in the chaos. I got the terrible feeling she was second guessing her decision to come home with me.
“This room is overwhelming,” I announced. “Let’s go into the kitchen. It’s... better in there.”
She followed me through the short hallway and let out a breath, like she hadn’t been able to breathe in the entryway.
What I had said was true, that it was better in the kitchen, but it wasn’t necessarily good. My mom had helped me one night this week, focusing all her effort on the kitchen, so most things were put away. There were still a few open boxes on my kitchen table, though, and some dirty dishes in the sink.
And of course, nothing was hung on the walls. The one painting I had that would work in here was leaning against the wall beside the pantry.
Charlotte scanned the room, and I didn’t miss the way she eyed the dishes from my dinner last night. When she set her hands on the counter of the island, I got the weird feeling she’d done it to stop herself from going over the sink and starting to load the dishwasher.
Was she a clean freak and my place was a major turn-off?
She looked less uncomfortable here in the kitchen than she had in the entryway, at least.
“This is a big kitchen,” she said, her voice echoing under the vaulted ceiling. “Do you like to cook?”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind it.” We fell quiet, giving time for awkwardness to creep in. “You want something to drink?”
As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I regretted it. Did I even have anything to offer her to drink? Thankfully, she shook her head. “How about a tour instead?”
“Sure.” I gestured to the hallway.
For a moment, I was excited to show off my new place, but then reality hit me. The rest of the house was going to just be more of the same—boxes and packing paper strewn everywhere. Why hadn’t I made more of an effort to unpack?
Probably because you just started a new job and it’s fucking overwhelming.
I fumbled my way through the tour, showing off the office, the guest bedroom and the spare bedroom I planned to turn into a home gym. I didn’t realize how much more work I needed to do until she peered into the nearly empty, undecorated rooms one by one.
At least I was strategic about it, saving the best for last. I turned the handle and pushed the door open. “This is the main bedroom.”
It was the room that had sold me on the house. Two thirds the size of my last place, the grand bedroom had a tray ceiling, a built-in bookcase, and a pair of tall windows that flanked the bed.
Which currently was unmade, but I hoped she could see past that and on to its potential.
This room could be sexy.
I just needed her to ignore the chair in the corner that was buried under a week’s worth of dirty laundry.
Charlotte missed nothing. Her throat bobbed with a swallow, and she crossed the room, heading into the ensuite bathroom.
While she explored in there, I hurried to the chair, gathered up the clothes, and chucked them under the bed. It was ridiculous, but my options were limited. My laundry basket, the place where the clothes should have gone, was in my closet, which was through the bathroom.
She’d just finished her walkthrough when I met her in the doorway, struggling to act casual and not to look out of breath. It was wasted, though. She glanced over my shoulder, amused.
“What happen to the clothes that were on that chair?”
I feigned confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her smile widened. “Right. And if I went back in the bathroom, I’m sure the bed wouldn’t suddenly get made either.”
“We could test that theory.” I meant it too, because if she wanted the bed made—I’d do it. But when I’d thought I had limited time to fix something, I’d decided the laundry was more urgent. Plus, if this evening went how I hoped it would, wouldn’t we be messing the bed up anyway?
“That’s okay,” she said, brushing past me.
I hadn’t started organizing the bookcase, so books were stacked randomly, along with the items I figured would end up there. An old award from winning my department’s fantasy football league. A pint glass from my favorite bar at NYU. A framed family photo from a vacation we’d taken to Paris years ago.
“Is this your family?” She picked it up to study it, and a knot grew in my stomach. Even if it wasn’t a major mood killer, which it was, I didn’t want to talk about them right now.
It felt too personal.
“Yeah.” I strode over, gently pulled the frame from her grasp, and set it back on the shelf. “Let’s talk about something else.”
I was standing close to her, too close for her not to notice. Her pretty eyes blinked rapidly as she peered up at me. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“What’s your stance on me kissing you?”
Her breath caught. “My . . . stance?”
“Yes. Are you for it or against it?”
“Oh.” Heat flooded her expression, and her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m definitely for it.”
“Okay, good.”
And then I reached for her, setting one hand on her waist while sliding the other into her hair. I’d planned to lean down and set my lips on hers, but the girl was just as eager as I was and met me halfway.
Our lips crashed together. It wasn’t the most skilled or seductive kiss I’d ever given, but it definitely seemed to be working for her. Fuck—it was working for me too. Her mouth was warm and soft, and our tongues tangled.
Heat spilled down my spine, and my heart kicked up a notch. Charlotte kissed me back with a ferocity that matched my own, like she needed this as much as I did. I sank my hand further into her hair, and I didn’t mean to, but I began to grip, dominating our kiss.
She let out a little sigh of satisfaction.
My dick jerked and began to harden inside my pants, but that wasn’t surprising. I already had a hair trigger, plus kissing her only a few feet away from my bed was too much. Her fingertips bristled against my whiskers as she slid her hands up to cup my face.
I’d been worried we didn’t have anything in common, but this? It was proving me wrong, because this girl knew exactly what she was doing. Exactly how to deepen our kiss so all I could think about was sinking down on the bed with her beneath me.
Our feet stumbled along as I shifted us closer to it, probably moving too fast for her, but she was able to keep up. Our kiss broke when I eased her onto her back on the bed and she sucked in a sharp breath. But then I was over her. My lips were on her again, and her surprise was forgotten.
The positioning was awkward with me bent over her and the unmade bed, and she must have sensed it. Charlotte crawled backward, getting me to chase her, and as I climbed on the bed between her parted legs, her greedy hands reached for me. They clutched at my shirt, stretching the cotton and urging me to take it off.
If I was starving, this girl was ravenous—and it was hot as fuck.
I rose, leaning back on my knees, and stretched the t-shirt over my head, flinging it away. She stared up with wide eyes and let out an appreciative sound at the sight of me, and I’d swear I could feel my ego swelling right along with my dick. To know this girl, who was at least a decade younger than I was, liked what she saw...
It was thrilling.
But it made the situation in my pants dire. Had I ever been so goddamn horny in my life?
Her hands wandered over my chest as I leaned down and kissed her again. I was glad to have my shirt gone because it seemed to be a thousand degrees inside this room. Was it the same for her?
Maybe she needs her shirt gone too.
I inched my fingers up under the hem, resting my palm on the warm skin of her stomach, testing the waters. I didn’t want to move too fast, but that wasn’t an issue for her. Charlotte placed a hand over mine and dragged it up until I could cup her breast.
I groaned my approval and squeezed, before tracing my fingertips at the edge of the lace of her bra. Her back arched into my touch, her tongue slicked against mine, and she ground her lower body against my erection.
All signs for me to keep going.
Thoughts were dim in my mind, clouded with need. I jerked the cup down and gripped her bare breast, pinching her nipple. Since her shirt wasn’t off, I couldn’t see exactly what I was doing, but in a way, it made it hotter. I enjoyed exploring her like this.
But Charlotte was too impatient.
When she went to sit up, she nearly knocked our teeth together, but I backed up just in time. Her arms crossed and her hands grabbed the sides of her shirt, and then she lifted it over her head so fast, it was practically a blur. The sweep of her hair fell around her bare shoulders, and she tossed the shirt aside.
I didn’t get much time to view her black bra or the way her tits looked inside it because her hands threaded into my hair. She yanked my head down to her, and I obliged her with a thorough kiss.
The teasing words came from me, low and throaty. “So aggressive.”
She drew in a deep breath. Shit. Had my comment accidentally caused her shame? God, I hoped not. That was the last thing I wanted.
“Fuck,” I continued. “I’m so into it.”
I moved to bury my mouth in the crook of her neck and sucked at the spot where her pulse was pounding, and I had to gnash my teeth when she ground herself against the fly of my jeans. Jesus . My dick was throbbing and straining against the denim, so the sensation of her rubbing on me was pleasurable agony.
The bed was quiet as I shifted, trailing my mouth down over her collarbone and inching toward the black lace. My short breath bounced off her bare skin as I worked my way lower, and I didn’t miss the way goosebumps lifted on her forearms.
A smile burned across my lips.
She couldn’t see it, though. I had my mouth nestled between her breasts, and a sound escaped from her that was so quiet, it was barely a moan. I hooked a finger in the cup of her bra, tugged it down, and closed my mouth around her extended nipple. I lost myself for a moment in her soft skin. Usually, when it came to sex, I was thoughtful. Or maybe calculating.
But tonight, I was mindless and reckless, and I had no idea if my dry spell was causing it... or the girl beneath me.
She gasped when my teeth clamped down on the sensitive bud. But the sound wasn’t tinged with pain; it seemed to simply be surprise. Her grip on my head tightened, not to push me away, but to hold me close.
My tongue spun circles around her nipple, and I sucked, and I savored the quiet whimpers of satisfaction she made.
I gave the lace of her bra another tug and commanded her with a voice that was probably too strong, “Take this off.”
If my order bothered Charlotte, she didn’t let on. Maybe she liked that I’d matched her aggression. She complied instantly, wedging a hand underneath her, unhooked the clasp, and then the lace was pulled out of my way.
I had my mouth and hands on her tits before she’d finished pulling the straps down her arms. I teased with my lips and my tongue, nipping at her and following it up with gentle kisses. One breast, then the other... and back again.
Her breathy whine echoed through every inch of my body.
More , she’d wordlessly said.
Yes , I almost whispered back.
We reached for each other’s pants at the same time, and when I chuckled, amusement lit her eyes. She pulled back her hand, using it to brush a strand of hair out of her face so she could better watch me work.
I popped the snap of her jeans and dropped her zipper, revealing the edge of more black lace. Had she worn the sexy matching bra and panties for her date, the guy who had foolishly abandoned her? I grinned to myself.
His loss was my gain, and I was very, very happy about it.
Her back arched off the mattress when I slipped a hand inside her undone jeans, delving my fingertips beneath the waistband of her underwear. She was slick and warm, and it pumped more heat through my body.
She clamped a hand on my shoulder. “ Fuck .”
That was exactly what I planned to do. With my fingers, my mouth, my cock. Could I wring an orgasm out of her with each act? Shit, I couldn’t wait to find out.
It was hard to figure out which was hotter—watching her squirm as the edges of my fingers rubbed against her clit, or listening to her short, labored breaths. But her jeans were tight and there wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver inside them.
They had to go.
She lifted her hips to help me as I peeled the denim down her legs, but when I slipped my fingers under the waist of her black panties, she tensed.
“Those stay on,” she said breathlessly.