Chapter 13
CHARLOTTE ROLLED OFF ME, PULLING the duvet over her while I made quick work of the condom I’d barely managed to get on.
She’d been on me the moment I walked through the hotel door—a woman on a mission.
Like she was trying to work something out of her system.
I’d been more than happy to comply. A woman who knew what she wanted and went after it was a powerful aphrodisiac.
When that woman was Charlotte and what she wanted was my cock, it was irresistible.
She was irresistible. Not that I’d put any effort into trying.
I’d ached for her since the last time together at her place.
I had her up against the wall, skirt hiked up and her legs wrapped around my waist before we bothered with a proper hello. Although I was willing to change that to our new standard greeting if she was game.
Rather than fuck her against the drywall, I’d gripped the back of her legs and carried her to the bed, but that was as long as I was in control.
As soon as we hit the mattress, she took control again, riding me first to her climax and then to mine.
It was fucking magnificent until the moment she rolled off me, turned away and buried under the covers.
At least she didn’t race for the exit this time, even if the effect was remarkably similar.
It was as if she’d flipped the script on every love them and leave them hookup without even leaving the bed.
If I wasn’t so sure her mood had everything to do with her and not me, I might have felt rejected.
As it was, I was more concerned with whatever was running through that beautiful head of hers.
I settled in beside her, pressing my lips to the warm skin between her shoulder blades.
She stiffened for a moment at the touch before relaxing back against me.
I resisted the urge—for the time being—to pull her into my arms and tuck her against my chest. Charlotte was like a cat.
Chasing her was more likely to end in her bolting than me catching her.
I paused for a moment, listening to her breathing even out.
After a few moments, she took a deep breath and exhaled as if she needed the extra oxygen to help work through whatever was going on in her head.
“I want to be clear and go on the record.” I kissed her back again, trailing my lips up to her shoulder. “I have absolutely no problem with you using me for sex. None whatsoever.”
She made a noise that might have been a muffled chuckle.
“That’s good information to have. Consent is key.” She arched her back, pressing her gorgeous ass against my hip.
I didn’t hold back this time, curling around her, pulling her into my arms, and fitting her body to mine. My cock shifted from sated to let’s do that again. I ignored the impulse for the moment in favor of finding out what Charlotte was thinking.
Her first impulse whenever I tried to hold her seemed to be to tense up, but it only lasted for a second or two before she relaxed.
I wondered if that would change as we got closer—something I was determined we’d do—as the lines between sex and the other time we spent together blurred.
We’d come close last time, snuggled on the sofa at her house.
I’d felt it and knew she had too. That she’d been unwilling to take the final step across the line felt more like a yet than an if.
“Again, I’m absolutely consenting to being used for sex.
” I nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear, breathing in her rich floral scent.
“But if you want to talk, we could do that too. It felt like you might have been trying to work through something.” I nipped at her earlobe and waited, praying I hadn’t pushed too far too fast.
It was a couple of minutes before she let out what felt like a fuck it sigh.
“I’ve got an AITA question.”
“I’m going to need more information.”
Charlotte squirmed around in my arms until she faced me. I kept my hand on her hip, not willing to give up holding her yet. She scraped her teeth over my pec, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. I fucking loved that idea.
“My friend is getting married.”
“And you don’t like the guy?” I asked when she didn’t say more.
“No. Actually, I do. She’s crazy about him, and he seems to adore her. He even insisted I draw up the prenup. I want to hate him but he’s making it really hard.”
“That all sounds good. I’m not seeing the problem.”
“It’s not with him. Not exactly. It’s the dress I’ve got a problem with.”
“She wants you to wear something terrible?” I’d heard horror stories about bridesmaid dresses from friends and almost every wedding movie ever made. But it didn’t seem like something Charlotte would get upset about.
“What? No. She wouldn’t do that to us.”
“You’re going to have to help me, cher.” I closed the few inches between us to press a quick kiss to the crease in her forehead.
“It’s her dress.”
She paused, and I waited for more. Apparently, I was going to have to coax the story out of her.
“You don’t like her dress?” It was like pulling teeth.
“It’s gorgeous. Kind of a silk lily. I know less than nothing about bridal couture and even I can tell it’s perfect.”
“But?” We couldn’t be more than a question or two from the crux of the problem.
“It’s fifteen thousand dollars.”
I let out a low whistle. I had a vague understanding that wedding dresses were expensive. I just didn’t know how expensive.
“That’s a lot. Don’t tell me she set up a Go Fund Me or asked for donations or something?” I was kidding mostly but still relieved when Charlotte giggled.
“No, she can afford it. So can the guy she’s marrying.”
“You like the guy. The dress, although expensive, is perfect and your friend can afford it. Why are you worried you’re the asshole?”
“I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”
I was tempted to laugh at the drip of information, but she looked so miserable. I opted for another forehead kiss instead. She snuggled in against me, and I rolled onto my back, pulling her with me and tucking her head under my chin.
“Just tell me what happened. Or we can keep playing twenty questions, if you’d rather.
” I was okay either way as long as I got to hold her.
But I could tell whatever happened with her friend really bothered her.
I wanted to help if I could. The urge to make Charlotte feel better was as strong as the urge to make her come.
Stronger maybe, but I wasn’t choosing if I didn’t have to.
“She’s a brilliant author. She just signed a contract on her first book.
She used part of her advance to pay for the dress.
She can afford it, but it makes me crazy to think of her spending money from her work on a dress to marry some guy who’s probably just going to make it harder for her to work. ”
“He doesn’t want her to work after they get married?” That was some draconian shit, but guys had done worse over the years. Still, I had trouble imagining a friend of Charlotte’s tying herself to a guy who expected her to give up her career for him.
“No, he supports her writing. He thinks she’s brilliant too.”
That seemed like a good thing, but she still sounded miserable.
“You’ve got to help me out here, cher. Is it that the dress is too expensive? It would be better if he helped pay for it? The crystals are sewn on by nimble-fingered children fed scraps of bread to keep them going? Explain the problem to me.”
“I don’t know what it is.” She buried her head against my chest, and I got what I was sure was an extremely rare glimpse at insecure Charlotte.
“I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does.
And I wasn’t subtle about it. I made sure she and all the other bridesmaids knew how I felt about it.
I think that part tips it into asshole territory. ”
I hugged her tighter and pressed my lips to the top of her head.
“Okay,” I said, framing my words carefully. The woman in my arms wouldn’t appreciate me pulling my punches but that didn’t mean I had to reverse-AITA things. “Let’s look at it in pieces. Did you say anything deliberately hurtful? Try to wound your friend on purpose or steal some of her joy?”
“No, of course not. I love her.” She propped her chin on my chest, hitting me with the full force of her gorgeous blue eyes. I had to remind myself not to get distracted. “I had a knee-jerk reaction and said the words before I thought about how they would make her feel.”
Blurting out whatever she thought without considering the consequences felt as out of character as insecure Charlotte.
“Sounds like your intentions were good. Even if what you said made you a little bit of an asshole, it ought to be an easy enough fix, right? Apologize. Explain you were just looking out for her and let your mouth get ahead of your brain.”
“That’s the problem. Not the apology part. I have no problem owning up to things when I’m wrong. It’s the explaining part where it goes off the rails.”
Any progress we’d made toward shifting her expression away from miserable disappeared.
“How so?”
“I’m not sure I was just looking out for her.
At first I thought I was protecting her from something, but the more I think about it, the more fucked up it seems. She bought a beautiful dress she can afford to marry a man she loves.
One who clearly loves her. There’s no reason for me to have an opinion about it, let alone be bothered by it. ”
“Why are you?” If the question had a simple answer, she wouldn’t have needed me to talk through it with her, but it was a place to start.
“I don’t trust any of it.” Her voice sounded small.
I resisted the urge to comfort her, afraid any movement on my part would stop her talking.
“You’ve seen a lot of marriages end. It makes sense that would inform your opinion of things.”