10. Chapter 10
Lorenz
Consciousness returned in increments. Even before he opened his eyes, a sense of charged calm filled him—his body loose in a way it almost never was, edged with a faint current of anticipation.
For a few seconds, he simply lay there, breathing.
Nothing in his life—challenges, survival, loss—could have prepared him for the night he and Charlie had just shared, the past and the present coming together in a way that felt too much like everything at once.
He opened his eyes.
The other side of the bed was empty, the pillow still dipped where her head had lain all night.
Lorenz sat up, ran a hand over his face, and exhaled. His polo shirt was nowhere to be found, but he found his underwear, pulled on his jeans, and headed downstairs, the old wooden stairs creaking beneath his weight.
Charlie sat at the kitchen table, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug. She stared into it as if expecting answers to rise up through the steam.
Lorenz paused in the doorway, taking her in—the soft line of her shoulders, the wild tumble of her morning curls, the oversized polo shirt that reached half-way down her thighs.
Something primitive stirred low in his chest. He knew better than to thump his chest, but there was no denying what he was feeling.
Mine.
He ignored it, mostly.
“Morning,” he said.
Charlie looked up, meeting his gaze.
The clock on the wall clicked over to six.
Early enough to have the conversation that he knew they needed to have, before he had to head in to work.
Lorenz stepped fully into the kitchen, resting one hand on the back of the chair across from her.
“Morning. Would you like some coffee?” she asked, her tone casual.
Coffee wasn’t what he wanted, but he did want her relaxed. “Please,” he said. She poured it and set the mug in front of him. She didn’t offer him sugar. She, too, remembered.
“Have you been up long?” he asked.
She shook her head once. Then, without preamble: “I can’t do this again, Lorenz.”
“Charlie, I—”
“No,” she interrupted. “It’s not that I can’t; it’s that I won’t do this again. I don’t need you—or your magic cock—anywhere near me.”
Lorenz’s mouth fell open. The cock in question twitched. His cock would always respond to her. But that wasn’t the point now, so he forced himself to think of something else.
“I don’t care if you’re the only man in the world who can make me come. I. Don’t. Care.”
This time, his cock did more than twitch.
Let me make you come again.
No. He couldn’t start thinking with his cock.
Lorenz tried again. “Listen, Charlie, last night was—“
Charlie’s gray eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you were going to say fun.”
Not the word he had in mind.
“It was fun, right, Lorenz?” She paused, biting her lower lip in a way that was just her.
“Last night was amazing, Charlie.”
“Amazing sex,” she stressed.
He inclined his head. “Amazing sex.”
And so much more.
Charlie sighed, standing up. “Don’t try to make this into something it isn’t. Please. The sex was great. You want that again? Call me. You want flowers and candlelit dinners? We burned that bridge a long time ago, you and I.”
I want it all.
He’d never been so sure of anything in his life. Having held her in his arms the previous night, he had no idea how he’d ever managed to let her go. But that wasn’t what Charlie needed to hear.
Charlie smiled gently, as if encouraged by his silence. “Let’s keep things simple. Let’s—“
A metallic clang split the morning.
Charlie’s head turned toward the window. Lorenz was already on his feet.
He stepped outside. Cold air cut sharp against his bare feet. The trash can lay on its side at the end of the driveway, contents scattered in a wide arc across the pavement, all around her car.
“What the hell—“
He scanned automatically. Nothing. A dog barking somewhere down the block.
Charlie walked up next to him. He followed her gaze to the house next door. The blinds were still drawn. No visible movement. There was no reason for her to look in that direction.
“Who lives in that house?” he asked. “You think they did this?”
“No.” She exhaled softly. “No, of course not. Why would he?” But her jaw was tight in a way he recognized.
“Who’s he?”
Charlie sighed. “My new neighbor. I don’t know his name. I’ve only met him once. He wasn’t a big fan of my parking.”
There were questions he wanted to ask. He didn’t.
“Hey.”
She didn’t look at him.
“Charlie.”
She turned finally. “It was probably just an animal.”
It probably wasn’t.
“Where’s your broom? I’ll take care of it.”