Chapter 18
Taylor could let it go. Of course she could. But the thought of walking away from this, from her, was like trying to un-remember a favorite song.
The couch cushions dipped slightly as Charlotte turned to face her fully.
Taylor’s fingers itched to reach out, to bridge the gap that had reopened the way a fault line reopened after a quake.
She knew the risks. Knew the weight of Charlotte’s position, the career she’d built, the rules she’d spent a lifetime upholding.
But rules had never stopped the heart from wanting what it wanted.
“Say you want me,” Taylor said. The words came out steady, unshaken by the tremor in her chest. “Just once. Out loud. So I know I’m not inventing the way you’re looking at me right now.”
Because she could feel it. The air between them thickened with it, a current pulling at her skin, at the fine hairs on her arms. Charlotte’s breath was shallow, her lips parted just enough to let the silence stretch.
Taylor had spent three months convincing herself that night had been a fluke, a perfect storm of moonlit impulsivity.
But here it was again—that same electric hum, that same sense of standing at the edge of something vast and terrifying and necessary.
“Because I can feel it, Charlotte,” she said, softer now. “I can feel how much you want to close that last inch and kiss me the way you did before you remembered all the rules.”
The words hung there, raw and undeniable. Taylor didn’t need to hear them back. But god, she wanted to. She wanted Charlotte to admit it, just once.
“I do want you,” Charlotte said, voice rough. “That’s never been the question.”
The air went sharp behind Taylor’s ribs. She’d expected denial, another wall of professional distance. Not this raw admission, stripped bare of pretense. Not the way Charlotte’s eyes held hers, unflinching, even as her knuckles whitened around the fabric of her own blouse.
Then Charlotte looked away, toward the window. “But wanting isn’t enough, Taylor. Not when one of us stands to lose everything.”
Taylor’s skin burned where Charlotte’s gaze had just dragged across it. The air in the loft felt thick, charged with everything they weren’t saying.
Charlotte’s admission—I do want you—echoed in Taylor’s ears.
She didn’t move from the couch. Didn’t flinch. Just watched the war play out in the tight line of Charlotte’s jaw, the slight tremor in her hands as they curled into fists on her thighs.
“You keep saying you’ll lose everything,” Taylor said.
The words scraped out low and uneven, her throat closing around them.
She’d aimed for steady but the tremor was there, betraying the hollow ache in her chest. “But what if you’re already losing it?
What if walking away from this…” She paused, her gaze dropping to the space between them, then lifting back to Charlotte’s face.
“From me…is the thing that actually costs you?”
Charlotte’s chest rose sharply. Her gaze jerked back to Taylor’s, pupils dilated as if the answer she needed was written on Taylor’s face—some justification, some escape from the heat building between them.
Before Charlotte could speak, before she could retreat behind another wall of reason, Taylor closed the distance and kissed her.
The familiar warmth of Charlotte’s lips hit Taylor, sharp and sweet and impossible to ignore, and for a second she forgot how to breathe.
She’d replayed that night on the beach a hundred times in her head, tracing the ghost of Charlotte’s mouth in the dark, but nothing had prepared her for this: the soft give of her lower lip, the faint taste of wine.
Taylor’s hands found Charlotte’s face almost on instinct, cradling her as if she were something glass-thin, something she wasn’t supposed to touch.
Her thumbs skimmed the fine lines fanning from the corners of Charlotte’s eyes, lines she’d studied from the back row of lecture, pretending to take notes while really just watching the way Charlotte’s expression shifted.
Charlotte’s hands hovered at her waist, uncertain, but Taylor didn’t let that stop her.
She deepened the kiss, letting it build slowly until Charlotte’s body relented with a shuddering exhale.
The tension in her shoulders melted, her fingers finally gripping the fabric of Taylor’s top as if Taylor would vanish if she loosened her hold.
Taylor deepened the pressure, slipping her tongue past Charlotte’s lips, and Charlotte let out a tiny sound that vibrated straight through Taylor’s collarbone.
Charlotte’s hand tangled in Taylor’s hair, pulling her closer, closing every remaining gap until there wasn’t an inch of air left between their chests.
Then a buzzing sound cut through the room.
The short, blunt vibration of rattled against the glass top, the harsh white light of Charlotte’s phone making them both turn.
Charlotte reached for the device, her fingers unsteady as she swiped the screen to read the notification.
“My ride is downstairs,” Charlotte said.
The words lacked any real weight. They floated between them, so paper-thin they carried none of the authority Charlotte usually wore like armor in the lecture hall.
She didn’t stand up. She didn’t even drop her other hand from where it rested against Taylor’s side, thumb hooked into the waistband of Taylor’s jeans.
Taylor didn’t give her space to pull further away. She kept her hands planted on Charlotte’s thighs, feeling the tense muscle beneath the dark fabric of her slacks.
“What if you stayed?” Taylor asked.
Charlotte didn’t answer right away. She sat perfectly still, staring at Taylor’s mouth, her eyes dark with a sudden, dangerous focus.
Charlotte looked down at the illuminated screen. Her thumb tapped the glass twice, a swift motion that dismissed the driver and threw the night entirely off the tracks. She dropped the phone back onto the coffee table with a dull thud.
Before the screen even went dark, Charlotte leaned forward and hit Taylor’s mouth with an intensity that knocked Taylor back against the sofa cushions.
There wasn’t any caution left in her. Charlotte pressed her weight down, her mouth hard and greedy, drinking Taylor in with a hunger that left Taylor’s head spinning.
Taylor matched the fury instantly. She slid her hands under the hem of Charlotte’s silk blouse, her guitar-roughened palms scraping up smooth skin along Charlotte’s ribs.
Charlotte gasped against her mouth, opening wider, her knee dragging up between Taylor’s legs as she hitched herself higher onto Taylor’s lap.
Taylor gripped the swell of Charlotte’s hip, her fingers digging in, pulling her down firmly against her center.
A deep ache bloomed between Taylor’s thighs, demands multiplying faster than her brain could track them.
She dragged her lips down Charlotte’s jaw, planting wet kisses along the curve of her neck while her fingers worked at the buttons of the silk shirt, desperate for more skin.
The kiss broke with a wet sound, their breaths ragged and shared between them. Taylor didn’t waste time. She pushed off the couch, her body humming, and tugged Charlotte toward the bedroom.
Clothes fell away in a frenzy. Taylor’s fingers fumbled with Charlotte’s buttons, silk slithering over skin. The blouse hit the floor first, then the dark slacks pooled around Charlotte’s ankles. Heels were kicked aside.
Taylor didn’t stop. She shucked off her own shirt, the cotton snagging around her head before she yanked it free, then kicked her jeans aside along with her boots. The air hit her skin and raised goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Charlotte’s hands were everywhere—on her waist, her shoulders, the dip of her spine—each touch searing into her skin.
Taylor unclasped Charlotte’s bra with a sharp twist, letting it slide down her arms. Charlotte’s panties followed, dark lace clinging to her hips before dropping to the floor.
Taylor’s own underwear came off just as fast, and then Charlotte’s hands were popping open Taylor’s bra, the straps sliding away, leaving them both naked.
The bedroom door frame dug into Taylor’s shoulder as Charlotte crowded her against it, their bodies flush, skin against skin, Charlotte’s lips finding Taylor’s in a hot, hungry kiss.
The warmth of Charlotte’s bare chest pressed against hers, the friction of their bodies making Taylor’s nerves sing.
She moaned into the kiss, loving the way Charlotte’s nipples hardened against Taylor’s skin.
They didn’t stop. Didn’t speak. Just stumbled forward, onto Taylor’s bed.