Chapter 17 – Annabelle
Chapter Seventeen
ANNABELLE
“Idon’t know what to say,” I sputter out. This is all too much to process. “You’re not Wick.”
“I am.” Tears sting at my eyes. “Please don’t cry.” He tugs me into his lap, and I burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” He says on repeat over and over. His hand continues rubbing up and down my back, trying to soothe me. “Please tell me how to make it better. I can fix it. I can fix anything; just tell me and it will be done.” I keep my face buried in his neck. It's comforting.
“I'm still mad about yesterday. We haven’t even had that fight yet.” That should really be at the bottom of the list of things I’m upset about, but it also feels like the easiest to cover.
I lift my head. “And these tears aren't all on you.” I sniffle.
“My sisters always get me worked up. It's why I moved as far away as I could.” I hate that I allow them to affect me the way that I do.
“Well, I can help with that. If you want to stay in the States, then we'll move to Hawaii. I'll get us a place there. Now if you wish to leave the country, then we can discuss that option.” He swipes gently at the tears on my cheeks.
“Charles.” A small laugh leaves me because I think he's dead serious.
“Everyone calls me Wick.”
“Too bad,” I snip at him and then cover my mouth with my hand. A slow smile tugs at his lips.
“Don't hold back with me.” I drop my hand.
“I'm terrible at sticking up for myself,” I admit. “Even though I keep thinking about kissing you, I should be laying into you.”
“All right.” He stands suddenly with me in his arms, putting me on my feet before sitting right back down. “Lay into me, and then we'll kiss.”
“Charles.” A giggle bubbles free.
“I'm serious. Have at it. Hit me with your best shots. I can take them. Scream and yell. Get it all out,” he encourages. “It might help.” Is this man real?
“And if it doesn't?”
“Then I will do a better job at protecting you. It might not be your nature to scream and yell.” I stand there. Charles’s brows lift, and I put my hands on my hips.
“You’ve been lying to me!” I snap at him. That does feel nice.
“I stretched the truth. I’m sorry.”
“Try again without the extra words.” I wave them off with my hand.
“I’m sorry.”
“And you’ve been stalking me,” I try again. I’m acting upset about that one, but in all honesty, I like the idea of him being obsessed with me.
“That I can’t apologize for, but I will apologize for not being able to apologize.”
“It’s hard to yell at you when you keep saying sorry.”
“My bad?”
I burst into laughter. He’s so easy to talk to. It’s been that way from the very start. So many times I’d wished him to be my husband.
“My bad?”
“It’s not the ‘a’ or ‘s’ word.” He shrugs. I suppose it’s not. “I can pretend to be your sisters, and we can try again.”
“Do you have any knockoff clothing you can change into?” I hit him with a stare. My sisters’ faces when Charles called them out will forever live branded into my mind. For once, someone put them in their place. “Or a pound of makeup you can slather on?”
“Don't forget the headache-inducing perfume, but I don't think I can pull off those shrill voices.” Charles visibly cringes. It’s hard to remember that I’m mad at him. Though I’m not sure that’s the right word.
“It’s kinda nice to get a jab, but I don’t want to be like them. They’re so hateful.” I’ve tried to be the opposite of them my entire life, hating how they treated others and looked down on them.
“Because you’re younger and more beautiful.”
“They’re pretty.” In their own way.
“I mean, they’re okay, but it takes a lot of effort. You’re all natural.”
“You have to say that.” I feel my cheeks starting to warm. “You’re my husband, after all.” Wow, I know I have been married, but to put a face with his name makes it all so real now.
“It’s safe to say, even before I was your husband, I was enamored by you.” He glances around as if to prove his point.
“I don’t know what to do with that.” I walk over to the other side of the couch and sit down. His brows pull together, and a frown forms.
“You up and left yesterday.” His expression turns sheepish.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about the husband thing?”
“Well, seeing as I think that’s a bigger issue to get to, but you’d rather us speak on that subject, you have only piqued my interest more.” I play with the hem of my shirt. “It really hurt my feelings. I thought I did or said something wrong.”
“Belle—” He starts to get up but pauses and sits back down.
“Were you about to run again or sit closer?”
“It is bothering me that you're so far away, but I understand.” He clenches his hands in his lap. It’s endearing, and I want to tell him to touch me. To pull me into his lap again.
“So?”
“My control was slipping, and I was worried I'd act irrationally, which is unlike me except when it comes to you. I can't think straight.” His words are a balm to the hurt I felt and, heck, to a whole lot more.
I didn't think anyone saw me that way, and it's appealing to know he does. For once, it makes me feel like I have some kind of power. Not to be yielded over him, but because I matter so greatly to him.
“What was making your control slip?” I find myself moving a few inches closer to him.
“Seeing all your things. I wanted them in my home. I had endless thoughts of us together, living as a married couple. I knew I had to get out of here before I did something you'd regret.”
“What makes you think I'd regret it?”
“Because you're not a cheater.”
“I wanted to kiss you so badly,” I admit. “I was having an inner struggle over it.” His eyes drop to my mouth.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, leaning closer to me. I should say no. There are other things we should likely talk about. Even if this is all real and he does desire me to be his wife, I won’t ever fit into his world.
But right now, in this moment, I want us to fit together.
“Kiss me,” I tell him. For today, I can pretend that this could be forever.
Charles leans in, brushing his mouth against mine gently.
I let my eyes flutter closed and press back into his.
That’s all the incentive he needs before tugging me into his lap.
The kiss goes from a brush of the lips to a full-on kiss.
I'm not sure either of us knows what we're doing, only lost in this need.
His tongue and sucking are making my body start to ache all over. I rock against him, and Charles groans, breaking the kiss, but his mouth doesn't leave me. It travels down my jaw and to my neck, licking and sucking as it goes.
His grip on my hip tightens, and his other hand tangles into my hair.
He pulls it, tilting my head so his mouth has full rein, a small gasp leaving me.
My mind flashes to his mouth on other places all over my body.
Lust floods through me in a way it never has before, and I rock my hips harder, the need for him growing by the second.
“Fuck, Belle, you know how long I've wanted this. Dreamed of kissing you. Kissing my wife.” His words only stoke my desire for him.
“Your wife,” I whisper, pulling back slightly. His hair is a ruffled mess. I don't remember gripping it, but I must have at some point. “That was—”
“Incredible,” he fills in for me, but I'm unsure.
“We should slow down. My head is all over the place.” He audibly swallows but gives a stiff nod.
“I understand.” He lifts me off his lap, putting me down next to him. “I'll give you time to think, but I need to go.”
Charles flees my home, making a small laugh leave me. This is all nuts and insane, but I do love my time with him, and I badly want him to come back even now. But I'm not sure this can work. We still come from two very different worlds.
When I thought this was all fake and I would push through for a year, I could muster through it, but now Charles is speaking about forever.
Or is he? He's only asked for a year. What if this was merely to get me out of his system? Then what?
I groan, falling backward on the couch. My life has gone from uneventful to now I can't keep up.