Chapter 38
LUNA
The caring look in Charlie’s eyes, paired with the swipe of his finger, does it.
That simple touch has me forgetting the final rule of our marriage.
The one that I wrote down because my subconscious knew that, at some point, Charlie would touch me in exactly the right way, and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kissing him.
The question is, why did I think a single line handwritten on a piece of paper would stop me from claiming what I craved?
I fist my hands around the straps of the apron he’s still wearing, barely keeping myself from jerking him down to my mouth.
“Kiss me. Now,” I demand.
Charlie’s brows shoot up. “Luna …”
If I were a different woman, the hesitation in his voice would cow me. I’d read the pause as disinterest. Pity. But I know Charlie now. How he cares. How he smooths over conflict, concerned about how others will view a messy result.
Crossing this line will cause a mess.
But with his plush lips so close, I can’t concentrate on the future. All that exists is surviving the present, and the only way I’ll survive is if I get to taste him.
I scoot to the edge of the counter, then spread my thighs wide.
“This is your last chance,” I warn.
I’m lying. I don’t give up easily.
But as I guessed, the ultimatum spurs him to action. Charlie surges forward, cupping my cheeks with his warm palms. Despite the heat in his eyes, the man stays tender as he lowers his mouth to mine.
A groan of impatience tears from me, and when I reach for his face, I’m not gentle.
I grip the back of his neck and hold him in place, demanding what I want.
Sucking on that sinful lip, pressing my tongue against his in a dirty promise.
Charlie moans, the hot rush of the noise breathing into me.
His hands drop to my body, fingers digging into my waist to pull me forward.
Against an impressive erection.
I can’t help rocking against the hard length, my mind wandering down a tangent about whether my husband has ever gripped himself to thoughts of me. The way I’ve massaged my clit to thoughts of him.
“Charlie.” I never knew I had this breathy voice in me, but there’s no stopping the needy edge when he pulls away.
Charlie’s hands drag to the tops of my thighs, long fingers puckering the skin when he digs his grip in. As if he needs to hold on to me for balance. Glad to know I’m not the only one off-kilter right now.
Then he kneels. Straight down, knees hitting the wood of the kitchen floor with a soft thud.
My husband stays in front of me. Beneath me.
Leaning forward, Charlie presses a kiss first to one knee and then the other, as if he’s not bothered in the slightest by the rough skin and calluses I earned from many brawls and sandbags.
He worships my skin with his hot mouth as if I were the smoothest silk, untouched by the sharp world.
Those worshipful acts have me relaxing back on my palms, allowing him to continue his sensual moves. Letting him slide my athletic shorts and sensible black underwear off.
People have gone down on me before. This isn’t the first time someone has been eye level with my vulva. But Charlie treats the moment with so much reverence that I can’t help thinking this time is different from all the others.
He stares.
No, he gazes at this intimate part of me while his fingers slowly drag up the inside of my legs, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Every inch of me shivers. Part trepidation, part anticipation.
Then his lips follow the trail his fingers mapped, lips and tongue dragging over my already-sensitive flesh.
When his teasing breath brushes against my pussy, my hips rock with repressed need.
It takes a good portion of my mental strength to keep from grabbing the back of his head and dragging him the last few inches to my core.
But I’m not sure if he’s ready to get smothered by my arousal.
Charlie has the audacity to hold my eyes as his thick pink tongue extends and slowly licks up my intimate lips.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, digging my nails into the marble countertop, ready to smash through the stone to get at the man.
My husband.
That word, the ownership in it, pushes my pulse to a faster pace.
This man is between my legs, pleasuring me, and that’s my ring on his finger.
He’s mine.
In this moment, nothing between us feels fake.
“Luna.” He groans my name against my folds, upper lip brushing my clit.
I jerk at the streak of pleasure, and my hands release their death grip, only to cradle his head as he devours me.
Charlie growls an animalistic sound, licking deeper as he slings my legs over his shoulders.
When his grip comes to my ass, I gasp at the possession he takes.
Almost as if this act is just as much for him as it is for me.
As if I’m the most delicious taste he’s ever sampled and he’ll bite the hand of anyone attempting to take away his feast.
Sweet, laid-back Charlie goes feral, consuming me. Demanding I experience an arousal so fierce that the edges of my vision blur and my toes curl so hard that I’m worried they may cramp.
When every muscle tightens inside me, on the edge of pain, Charlie wraps his lips around my clit and sucks.
I choke out a scream of his name, the sound angry on my lips, my muscles snapping free, as if all my bones broke and their marrow was pure pleasure pouring into every nerve in my body.
And as the erotic mind fog clears, I’m left with one thought.
How dare he do this to me?