9. Charlotte
Chapter nine
Charlotte
T he drops of water from the hot tub, running down my legs onto the plush carpet of my hotel room, barely register. Instead, Jake’s words from the terrace over an hour ago run through my mind. Again. I’m the one who’ll need saving.
His jacket hangs from my shoulders, now smelling of chlorine instead of his unmistakable scent. It may cover my black bikini, but I feel more exposed than I did in the hot tub with the girls. The adjoining door between our rooms is the only thing standing between us. Behind it, I can hear Jake moving around. And somehow, the slab of wood seems more like a lifeline than a shield.
Zoe’s knowing smirk when I made excuses to leave early a few minutes ago still burns in my mind.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she called after me, which is ironic, coming from the woman who slept with her brother’s best friend literally at his wedding. But the hoots of encouragement from Libby and Maya suggested they all knew exactly what, or rather, who, was tempting me away.
My fingers trace the smooth grain of the door, hovering over the lock. The metal is cool against my overheated skin. This is such a bad idea. The worst. Except, I can’t think of anything else. I can’t focus on anything but the way Jake’s voice reverberated deep in my core when he assured me he wasn’t considering my offer. And I damn well can’t forget the way his eyes bored into mine, as if he could see through every defense I’ve ever built. And was ready and willing to knock them down.
Before I change my mind, I turn the lock. The soft click echoes in the silence. But when I pull open the door, my breath catches. Jake is there, only inches away, wearing nothing but a pair of athletic shorts that hang low on his hips. His arms are raised, muscles flexing as he grips the door jamb above him. I can’t help but sweep my gaze down every inch of his perfect body. The defined lines of his shoulders flexing, the subtle movement of his chest, and the casual confidence in his stance steal what little oxygen is left in my lungs.
His eyes are dark as they return the favor, tracking a droplet of water slipping down my neck.
“I’m…popping in the shower,” I manage, my voice strangled. “I smell like chlorine.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. Not his usual cocky smirk, but again, something more dangerous. More genuine. “I’ll join you.”
My heart thuds against my ribs as he pushes off the doorframe and steps closer. Into my room. Close enough I have to tip back my head to maintain eye contact. So close the heat radiating off his skin sets mine ablaze.
“Jake—” I start, but whatever I was going to say evaporates as his hand comes up to brush my damp hair back from my temple. The gentle touch is at odds with the intensity in his gaze.
“Tell me to stop,” he warns, voice low. “Tell me this isn’t what you want, and I’ll walk away right now.”
But I don’t. This is exactly what I want. What I’ve craved for two years, even if I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—admit it. Even if I was too scared or too proud to acknowledge I was lusting after this man like a moth to a flame.
Instead of answering, I rise up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. Unlike the desperate clash teeth and tongue on the terrace last night, this kiss starts achingly slow. His lips are soft against mine, barely moving, just tasting, testing. When I try to deepen it, tilting my head to speed up things, his hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as he maintains the languorous pace.
“We’ve got all night,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I want to take my time with you.”
The words send a shiver down my spine. This isn’t the rushed hookup I thought it would be. This is something else entirely. Something that makes my chest tight with an emotion I’m not ready to name. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him with a soft sound that would be embarrassing if I weren’t so lost in the sensation. He kisses me as if he’s mapping every corner of my mouth, learning what makes me gasp and what makes me melt. His hands slide into my hair as he backs me into my room, not bothering to close the door behind him.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine. But instead of pulling away, he trails his lips along my jaw then down my neck. Each press of his mouth is deliberate, as if he’s memorizing the taste of my skin. As if we have all the time in the world.
“You’re still wearing my jacket.”
“Do you want it back?”
His laugh is rough, vibrating against my skin. “Sweetheart, it looks better on you.”
The endearment that once would have made me bristle now sends heat pooling low in my belly. Maybe because, for the first time, I wonder if Jake’s intention isn’t to make me feel small after all. But rather, to make me feel precious.
“You have no idea how crazy it makes me seeing you in my clothes.” He presses the jacket open, and his hands slip inside to span my waist, thumbs pressing into my hip bones. “Or how much I’ve thought about this. About you.”
“Jake.” His name comes out like a plea. Suddenly, this feels like more than just getting him out of my system. More than scratching an itch that’s been burning under my skin for two years.
He must hear it in my voice. He stills, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “We don’t have to—”
“I want to.” The words tumble out before he can finish. “I want you.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Charlotte…” His thumb traces my lower lip. “If we do this, it changes everything.”
Does it?
I wish it wasn’t true. I mean, why can’t we have screaming hot meaningless sex like single attractive twenty-somethings in the city do all the time?
Because we can’t. Everything has already changed between us, even if I’m not ready to admit it.
He stills at my hesitation, eyeing me sharply while he waits patiently for my acknowledgement. When it doesn’t come, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “We still need to talk about what happened.”
There’s no need for an explanation. He’s talking about New Year’s Eve, and we both know it. I shake my head. “Not now.”
His eyes search mine, understanding passing between us. There will be time for explanations later. For facing the events and the stubbornness that led us here. But right now, thankfully, he kisses me again. And this time, it’s with a tenderness that makes my knees weak.
His hands smooth up my sides, pushing the jacket off my shoulders to drop to the floor. Every touch feels as if he’s trying to memorize me. As if he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
His mouth finds a sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me shiver. “You taste like summer,” he murmurs, lips moving against my skin. “Like chlorine and sunshine and everything I’ve ever wanted.”
His declaration isn’t just a sweet nothing; it’s a quiet confession. And the searing truth of it obliterates my reluctance. I let my head fall back, giving him better access as he works his way down my neck. His hands settle on my hips, holding me steady as he maps every inch of exposed skin with his mouth. There’s no rush to his movements, no urgency. Just the slow burn of desire building between us.
“Shower?” he finally murmurs against my collarbone.
I manage a breathless laugh, grateful for the distraction. “Shower.”
As he follows me to the bathroom, I realize through the haze of desire that I was wrong before. With stark clarity, the truth settles deep in my chest. This isn’t about getting Jake Maddingly out of my system. This is about letting him in.
I turn on the shower, cranking the hot water, though the heat between us is enough to light a bonfire. When I spin back, he faces me toward the mirror, his bare chest brushing my back. The contact sends electricity racing across my skin. His eyes are dark with desire, but there’s something else there, too. Something that makes my heart race faster than any physical touch.
His fingers trail up and down my arms as steam fills the room. I reach behind my neck to untie my bikini top with a quick pull of the thin strap. His sharp gasp makes me smile. A growl rumbles in his chest as he reaches around to cup my breasts, his palms lifting and massaging the weight of each as his thumbs stroke the taut nipples. My head falls back against his chest as I watch in the mirror. His lips find my neck, trailing hot kisses down to my shoulder.
“I plan to learn every inch of you,” he murmurs against my skin.
The water is perfectly hot as I step under the spray in the oversized walk-in tiled shower. A second later, Jake’s shorts are on the floor and he’s joining me, squeezing bodywash into his palm and rubbing his hands together. Covered in bubbly lather, he glides his large calloused fingers over my skin as if he’s sculpting me, worshiping every curve. When I try to touch him in return, he captures my wrists gently. “Let me take care of you first.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. That’s what this has always been about, his need to take care of me warring with my need to prove I can take care of myself. But here, in the steam and heat, with water sluicing between us, it doesn’t feel like a battle anymore. It feels like a gift.
His mouth claims mine again, and this kiss is deeper, hungrier. My fingers tangle in his wet hair as he backs me against the cool tile. Every touch, every caress feels like he’s trying to tell me something. Attempting to send a message words haven’t been able to convey.
“Jake,” I gasp, his hands and lips magic on my sensitive skin. “Please…”
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. And for the first time, I surrender rather than fight him.
What follows is a blur of sensation and emotion. Steam and skin and breathless sighs as his fingers slide along my skin before finding my slit and teasing my clit in languid strokes. My thighs quiver, and I grab hold of his shoulders, holding on as if he’s a steel support beam and I’m close to collapse.
Without a word, he hitches my leg over his hip and, in one smooth stroke, fills me. Our gazes are locked together as he rocks forward, and I can’t help but call out his name, every muscle in my body clenching at the delicious sensation.
I don’t know how long he’s thrusting inside me, slow and deep, only that I’m spiraling higher and higher. His jaw grinds, and his determination is clear as he growls, “Give it to me, Charlotte. Come for me.”
And for once, I do as I’m told. Because I have no choice. Jake has taken me apart, piece by piece, and I finally succumb, screaming his name as the waves of pleasure crash over me.
Afterward, as we catch our breath, he holds me close under the spray. His heart pounds, his arms secure around my waist as he brushes a kiss against my hair. The intimacy of the moment, of what just happened between us, is too much. This was supposed to be about physical release, not emotional surrender. I stiffen and pull away, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel from the rack. Without meeting his gaze, I wrap it around myself, desperate to escape. To not let Jake see how completely he’s dismantled my defenses.