24. Charlie
TWENTY-FOUR
CHARLIE
Despite the practice I’d had the night before, I still felt nervous about calling Sebastian to pitch the plan to him.
He answered on the first ring. “Your footsteps sound anxious, sweetheart.”
“That’s very creepy of you,” I said, but my voice had no heat. “Do you always judge your neighbors’ moods by their walking?”
“Only you, Charlie.”
Not knowing what to do with that answer, I straightened my shoulders. “I have a proposition for you. About the Monticello.”
I couldn’t read his pause. Then he said, “I’m listening.”
“Meet me there in an hour?”
“Sure,” he said, and I pulled the phone away from my ear to let out a sigh of relief.
That’s how I ended up waiting by the lobby doors for him to arrive, my head tilted up to the New Elwood spring sunshine as I tried to settle my nerves.
I heard his car a few moments before it turned the corner and came to a smooth stop in front of me. He stepped out wearing navy pants, a fitted white tee, and flawless white sneakers. He looked like he belonged anywhere but New Elwood. The sun shone on his sable hair as he turned to face me. Though his eyes were shaded by dark sunglasses, I felt his gaze like a touch.
I wished I’d worn something other than the fluttery weekend sundress I chose this morning. I should have worn my pencil skirt uniform or my housework clothes. The dress danced in the warm spring breeze around my knees, and I felt naked before him. I didn’t want to feel naked. I wanted to feel powerful and in control.
I gave him a casual little wave. “Hi. Thanks for meeting me.”
He prowled toward me. “Didn’t see you yesterday,” he noted as he came to a stop in front of me. He was a foot or two away from me, but I still felt his presence like a force field pushing against me. I didn’t know if I wanted to lean into the feeling or tuck tail and run away. When he slipped his sunglasses off, his eyes searched mine. “Is everything okay?”
“I wanted to run something by you,” I said, and my heart took off at a gallop. What had seemed like a great idea when I was two margaritas and a couple of glasses of wine deep, surrounded by encouraging hoots and smiling faces, now seemed like a pipe dream. I’d be asking him to give up his precious profits to allow me to save a piece of history that had no meaning to him.
But I had to try. “Want to go inside?”
“Sure,” he said, gaze lingering on me for a long moment, as if he wanted to drink me in. Or maybe he was just trying to figure out my angle, or wondering whether he should bring up The Events Which Should Not Be Named. His keys jangled as he took them out of his pocket, and he unlocked the lobby door and opened it to let me step in first.
I was about to make a snarky comment, but something stayed my tongue. He didn’t seem like he was putting on an act. It was natural for him to open the door for me. He’d done it the first time we came here with Rex too.
Maybe Sophie was right. Maybe I was right, and he wasn’t as bad as I’d originally thought.
“The suspense is killing me,” he said as he joined me on the section of broken tile near the lobby doors. “When I saw your name come up on my phone, I thought…”
I glanced over. It was dark, and his eyes were shadowed. “You thought?”
His lips gave a bitter twist. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“Well, here’s the thing. I have an idea to pitch to you, and I’d like to know if you’re willing to hear me out.”
We faced each other. Sebastian popped a brow. “You seem…nervous. It’s strange. I’m not sure I like it. Say something rude to me so I know you’re okay.”
“Quiet, Anderson. I don’t want your lip right now.”
A grin curled his mouth. “That’s better.”
Huffing a laugh, I squared my shoulders and gathered myself up. If he didn’t like my idea, so be it. I’d just have to campaign to save the theater based on its historical value alone, and that would have to be enough. But if there was a chance that we could make something better…
“Your plan is to create a new hotel that will attract all the winos to our beautiful town. You’re promising an injection of cash with increased tourism, which will give New Elwood a new lease on life.”
He crossed his arms, the fabric of his tee bunching over his arms. “Correct.”
“What if there was another way?”
His face remained utterly neutral. “Go on.”
“A boutique hotel. We save the lobby, maybe one of the theaters. We use the land next door as was part of your original proposal, and we make something smaller that works with the existing architecture instead of against it. The restoration shrinks in size, which cuts down the cost, and we still have new, attractive accommodations for tourists to flock to. Except they’re even better, because?—”
“Because the hotel will be an attraction in itself.”
“Exactly!” I beamed at him, then rocked back. “Exactly,” I repeated in a more measured tone. “Instead of campaigning against each other at the Wine Festival Gala, we could join forces on a new proposal for the council and have them vote on it. We could float the idea to the mayor at our progress meeting to see if he’d even entertain it, then go from there.”
“Hmm, it does seem like the chances of getting this passed are higher than either of our original proposals on their own,” he noted.
“We’ll satisfy the councilmembers who want to preserve the town’s history while acknowledging that change can be good.”
He watched me. I couldn’t read his face, and it was making my pulse speed up. When he spoke, he didn’t sound judgmental. Just curious. “And you’d approve something like that as New Elwood’s chief historical preservation officer? You’d be okay with most of this theater being knocked down?”
I tore my gaze away from his to glance at the lobby, the tiles, the chandelier, the sweeping staircases. “I think…” I let out a harsh breath, eyes sliding to all those glittering, newly cleaned crystals hanging from the ceiling. “I think part of what makes me care so much about historical preservation is a desire to feel connected to this place. New Elwood is the only home I’ve ever known. It… It healed me, when I was a hurt little girl with nothing and no one. But I’m learning that sometimes things need to be made new. And in this instance, I think there’s room for compromise.”
I kept my eyes on the chandelier, because I was afraid that if I looked at Sebastian he’d see the tears glazing my eyes. But when I felt his fingers press on the edge of my chin, I had no choice but to face him and see whatever truth would be written in his gaze.
When our eyes met, my breaths became shallower. His expression was soft. His thumb traced the edge of my bottom lip as he moved closer, bringing his chest nearly close enough to brush mine. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, Charlie Washington Reeves,” he told me quietly. “I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble.”
“I might be able to forgive you…if you work with me on this.”
“I’ll have to run some numbers,” Sebastian warned, but his free hand was pressing against the small of my back. “Talk to my team. See if it’s possible to save this place at all.”
Hope sparked, and I sucked in a hard breath. We’d moved together, and I could feel the hard pack of his abs against my stomach, the muscles of his chest pressed against my breasts. My fingers curled into his shoulders. “But you’ll look into it? You really think maybe…”
“It could work,” he finished—and he kissed me.
It wasn’t like the first time. We didn’t tear and rip and bite. But as Sebastian dragged me closer and crushed his lips to mine, this kiss was somehow more intense than the first. Its power started from somewhere deeper inside me, from some sliver of shared ground.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and let out a rough little grunt as Sebastian dropped his hands to my butt a second before clawing at the fluttery fabric of my dress so he could grab my curves, skin to skin. His middle finger traced the edge of my panties where it cut across my cheek before he placed his hand flat on my ass again.
He squeezed it roughly. “Love your ass,” he said against my lips. “I dream of your ass, Charlie. Dream of the day we met when I had you on my table with nothing on.”
I buried my laugh in the crook of his neck. “You are such a pervert.”
“Only when it comes to you.” He picked me up so I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist, his hands squeezing and shaping my ass as he tilted his head so I could kiss him again.
Incandescent happiness fizzed in my veins. I pulled away only far enough so that our noses touched and smiled at him. “Want to know a secret?”
“I want to know all your secrets.”
“It was Theater One.”
He pulled his head back, frowning. “What was?”
My smile grew. “I let Billy Thompson get to second base in Theater One. First time a guy touched my nipples. It gave me such a thrill I thought that’s what an orgasm was until I started mastur—” I squealed as he threw me over his shoulder and started walking toward the stairs. “What are you doing?” I asked, laughing.
“I’m taking you to Theater One, and I’m giving you an actual orgasm or three so you never mention another man touching your nipples ever again.”
Hanging off his shoulder, I cackled. “We were fifteen.”
“I don’t care.” His shoulder jarred into my stomach as he started climbing the stairs, hands clamped on my bare thighs and moving higher. We made it up the stairs, and Sebastian set me down on wobbling legs so he could take my face in his hands and kiss me again, except this time with more tongue.
I melted into him, clinging to his shirt, feeling the shape of him beneath the fabric. He groaned, walking me just around the corner so he could press me against the wall, his hand sliding down my leg to pick up my knee and hook it over his hip. My dress pooled at the top of my thigh, his broad hand sliding from my knee to my hip. Sparks danced over my skin wherever he touched.
Then he rolled his hips, and I felt the bulge of him against my core. I gasped, and my head fell back against the wall.
“Love it when you give in, Charlie. When I see you let go like that.”
“I’m not giving in to anything.”
His lips curled into a sinful smile. “Uh-huh,” he said as he ground himself against me a little bit harder.
When my breath caught, his smile widened. “Three,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s how many times you’re going to give in to me today.”
“What are you—” I bit off the question as he slid his hand between my legs, rubbing the fabric of my panties against my core. I clung to his shoulders, widening my stance.
His eyes had gone dark, his breathing heavy. He plucked at my dress’s strap until it slid down my shoulder, the fabric clinging to my pebbled nipple. With a grunt, he tugged it off to expose my breast. “Fuck,” he said, then he palmed my breast and squeezed.
So, all right. Maybe I had worn the sundress on purpose. Not that I’d predicted this , specifically, but I knew it fit me like a glove and I wanted to look good. I was a vain woman who was meeting a man for whom she had complicated feelings. Sue me.
Sebastian kissed me again, one hand rubbing at my clit with the fabric of my underwear providing a dull kind of friction that made my head spin. His other hand alternated between palming my breast and teasing my nipple, until he tore his lips away from me and brought them to my breast. Plumping my breast with his hand, he took my nipple in his mouth while I buried my fingers in his hair.
“Sebastian,” I panted.
He yanked the other strap of my dress down and moved to the other side, scraping his teeth over my diamond-hard nipple. I writhed and reached between us so I could feel his cock. He groaned as I traced the outline of it with my hand, straightening from my breasts to meet my eyes.
Cool air swept over my wetted breasts as I leaned against the wall, feeling how hard he was—for me. It was a heady feeling, knowing that all his attention, all his lust, all his desire, was focused on me. I never wanted it to end.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he told me, fingers tracing the edge of the gusset of my panties. He slipped the fabric to the side, eyes watching me intently as he ran his finger through my slickness. “I’m addicted to you, Charlie. I listen for your footsteps every time I’m home. Whenever you’re in the same room as me, I always know exactly where you are without really knowing how. I’m going insane, and I keep wanting more.”
I couldn’t help the shiver that went through me. “I thought you hated me.”
He huffed and dragged his fingers up to my clit. “You thought wrong.”
Clinging to the wall, I glanced to my left. The stairs were just a few feet away. “Someone could walk in,” I said, but the words died when he worked his hand between my legs. My hips rolled against his touch like I was some kind of wanton, shameless woman.
“No one’s going to walk in. Ride my hand, sweetheart.” With an impatient tug, Sebastian pulled my panties down. They fell to the floor and I stepped out of them, and then all bets were off. His fingers were on my clit until I was clinging to him so hard I was sure I’d draw blood. Then he was sliding them inside me and pressing the palm of his hand against my bud, using his other hand to clamp on my hip and urge me to grind against him harder. I came with a cry, hips working, hands clawing at him, mind splintering.
“That’s one,” he said, and he dragged me into the darkened theater.
A few of the seats had been upgraded over the years, so where most of the theater was filled with small, cramped seating, there were a few rows of premium seats near the middle, one of which was on the wide walking aisle.
I was out of breath and walking on shaky legs, propped up against Sebastian’s side as he pulled me to one of the premium seats near the middle. He sat me down and pulled my hips to the edge of the seat, then knelt between my knees.
“Sebastian,” I said, feeling the silkiness of his hair between my fingers.
“You owe me two more, sweetheart,” he said, then picked my legs up, threw them over his shoulders, and brought his mouth to my core. I arched back, gasping, unintelligible babble spewing from my mouth as he devoured me.
I sensed him smile against me, felt the little puff of breath he let out when I tightened my grip on his hair.
When I’d come back down to earth, Sebastian kissed my inner thigh and said, “Two.”
“Enough.”
“You owe me one more, Charlie.”
“I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
He laughed and straightened, curling a strong hand around my nape to bring my lips to his. I could taste myself on his mouth, and when he slipped his free hand under my dress to run his thumb ever so gently over my clit, I couldn’t help the jump and shiver that coursed through me.
“Sensitive,” I complained on an expelled breath.
“I’ll be gentle,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. His hand held my nape as his other thumb worked my nub, softly, gently, inexorably, until I was panting hard and seeing stars.
“You have any idea how good you look when you come?” he asked softly, lips brushing my cheek. “Any idea how good you taste?”
“Um,” I said. “No?”
His thumb worked in a circular motion, the rest of his fingers splayed on top of my thigh. He kissed the corner of my jaw, nipped at the bottom of my earlobe. “I could do this for hours. Watch you fight it until you can’t fight it anymore. Watch you let go for me.”
“I think”—I shivered, hips jerking slightly—“I think that might make you some kind of deviant, Anderson.”
His cheek creased against mine, and I knew he was smiling. “Maybe,” he said. “Can’t wait to have that mouth on my cock, Reeves.”
I sucked in a breath, legs splaying a bit wider. “What makes you think I’m into that?”
His thumb dipped closer to my opening then moved back up again, wetter than it was a moment before. “I think you’d like watching me come undone just as much as I love watching you.”
“Keep dreaming,” I said, but my hips rolled against his touch. The truth was, the thought made me hot. Feeling his hot, hard flesh in my hands. Tasting him. Feeling his fingers curl into my hair. Knowing that if he lost control of himself, it was because of me.
I wanted that. I wanted it bad. Wanted to be on my knees in front of him like he’d just done for me.
And all the while, as I imagined taking him in my mouth, Sebastian’s thumb made steady, gentle circles over me. A trembling started in my thighs, but his pressure didn’t increase. His speed didn’t change. It was maddening. It was so Sebastian, to do things his way no matter what. To be right, in the end, for having done it that way.
My third orgasm was the strongest of the bunch. He urged me on with whispered words as I bucked and arched, my body craving something hard to fill it. He told me I was beautiful. Told me I was doing so well. Told me he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside me, that he was driving himself wild with thoughts of it.
I clutched him through it, meeting his feverish gaze as he wrung every bit of pleasure out of me. He gathered me in his arms and kissed me, and I knew I was already in too deep.