Twenty-Nine
Ten minutes later, Charlie asks, “Was that okay?” Wes’s fingers trace circles over her shoulder while her thoughts race with sudden insecurity. “Did that—Was that good for you?”
He blinks before releasing a puff of laughter, a pleased smile curving his distracting mouth. She feels as if she will expire right here.
He runs a finger down her nose and traces her lips before kissing her.
“Charlie, you don’t even—” He shakes his head. “Yes, it was good for me, you impossible woman.”
He kisses her again, languid and content. She throws one leg over his hip while his palm slides down her spine to curve around her ass. When she runs her fingers through his hair, he moans with pleasure.
God, his hair. She could spend lifetimes running her hands through it.
Breaking their kiss, he rises onto his elbow and begins combing his fingers through her curls. It feels wonderful.
After a minute of comfortable silence, he sits up and leans against the headboard. “Come here.”
Bracketing her between his thighs, her back against his strong, firm chest, he presses his lips to her neck. “That’s better.”
A gentle, rhythmic tugging on her hair begins a moment later.
“If you tangle my hair, I swear I’ll tie you up and shave off all your hair,” she quips.
His chest rumbles against her spine with laughter. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.” He gives one firm tug before his nimble fingers begin moving through her curls.
“Are you braiding it?”
“Yes.”
“Who taught you that?”
“Emmy,” he replies. “I’m not a complete failure of the opposite sex.”
She smiles. “I never said that.”
“But your tone suggests otherwise.”
“That’s how I speak around you. I’m in a constant state of skepticism.” At another swift tug on her hair, she bites back a smile.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” he quips. “I’m only mildly offended.”
“Do what you must, but I’ll judge the final result.”
His laugh shakes her entire body before they lapse into another silence. Charlie closes her eyes, her body deliciously sore in new places.
Should they talk about what just happened? About what it all means? What do they do now? Is this the start of something? Of everything?
She remains quiet even as her thoughts race, afraid to interrupt the ease between them.
“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he muses.
“Wind my hair into knots?”
“Tame it,” he teases. His fingers begin kneading the base of her scalp.
She shivers. “Keep that up, and I’ll give you more access to it.”
“Deal.” His breath is warm on her neck, his voice soothing. It runs over her skin like aloe on a burn. His body shelters her, comforts her, the solidity of it a salve on her heart.
“Wes?”
He kisses her neck. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” she says.
His palms glide over her shoulders and down her arms before he laces their fingers together. “For what?”
“For making me feel safe.” It’s easier to say this when she’s not looking at him.
He tightens his arms around her, his lips pressing to her hair, her neck, everywhere he touches striking a match on her skin.
“I dream of a world where no one feels ashamed about their desires or how they choose to have sex,” she explains, “or when or where or with whom. I wanted to choose my first time without regrets.”
“And do you?” His lips crest over her temple. “Regret anything? Feel ashamed?”
“Not at all,” she immediately replies. He holds her even tighter to him. “You made it easy to choose you. I—” She swallows. “It always feels right with you. I always wanted it to be you.”
He rests his chin on her shoulder, his fingers tracing circles over her waist and stomach.
Twisting to face him, she peers up into his eyes. “It was never just a kiss, you know.”
His eyes flicker with surprise before he smiles. He pulls the completed braid over her shoulder and presses his mouth to hers.
“And it was never going to be just sex with you,” he whispers. And then, “I never slept with Mia.”
She draws back, startled by the admission. “I don’t care if—”
“I need you to know.” He grasps her chin between his fingers. “It’s important to me that you know that.”
Charlie nods. “Okay.”
“I looked for you. At the party.” He drops his hand, linking their fingers together. “I texted you.”
She glances down at their interlaced fingers. “I know.”
“I tried talking to you.”
She nods. “I know.” She lifts her gaze again. “But you hurt me by what you said. You know that, right? You broke my heart.”
He squeezes her fingers tighter. “I do know. I’m so, so sorry. I wouldn’t be able to look at me either after hearing that.” His eyes shine with regret.
“It was a giant slap in the face when I thought we were friends,” she continues. “Friends don’t say things like that even behind their back. Especially if you cared about me.”
He exhales, his breath fluttering a few loose curls, his lips tracing a line from her shoulder to her jaw. He presses his lips to her knuckles once, twice, three times.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers, raw sincerity in his voice. “I don’t ever want to hurt you again. You are the most important thing in my life, Charlie.”
Her heart clenches at his confession, the clear vulnerability carved on his handsome face.
“I’m so sorry, and I know words only go so far, but I’ll prove to you how sorry I am every day if you’ll let me.
I wasted so much time trying to be someone I wasn’t.
God, I’d give anything to go back to that day and kick that asshole in the fucking mouth.
” He shakes his head, studying their clasped hands.
“Sometimes when I’m callous or selfish, I’m afraid I’m turning into my father. ”
Her heart clenches at his confession, the clear vulnerability carved on his handsome face.
His thumb traces over her knuckles, the back of her hand, before repeating the pattern. “He’s so ruthless and cold. He’ll do anything to the people around him to get what he wants. I never want to be like that, but sometimes it’s all I think about because I’m afraid it’s inevitable.”
Charlie twists, cupping his face in her palms, forcing him to look at her. “You are not like him.”
He doesn’t say anything, so she kisses him, desperate to vanish the darkness from his gaze.
“You are warm and kind,” she continues. “And funny. Like, to the point where it’s annoying.” His lips twitch, a trace of warmth leaching back into him. “And you are nothing like him.”
He hums before tipping up her chin and kissing her.
Feeling emboldened by his touch, she dances her fingers down his chest, tracing the ridges of his muscles, and feels his breath hitch when she descends lower and wraps her hand around his cock.
“Fuck,” he gasps, drawing out the word. When she begins moving her hand up and down, he bites his lip, releasing a delicious groan that unfurls flames in her belly. “Rogers.”
She flashes a coy smile. “Yes, Wesley?”
“Christ.” He presses his mouth to her shoulder. “You catch on quick.”
“Just making up for lost time.” She leans close, brushing her lips along the curve of his jaw. “I’m a very fast learner.”
He laughs, then gasps, his breathing ragged. “Keep going. That feels so fucking good.”
Rising above him, she licks the column of his throat, relishing the moans she pulls from him. She wants him to come undone for her.
Sliding his hands up her thighs, he grips her hips, all the while kissing her, devouring her.
She returns it in equal measure. His arm shoots to her bedside table, fingers scrabbling to open the drawer.
When her alarm clock crashes to the floor, they both ignore it.
After retrieving a condom, he returns to her, rubbing her slick center with his fingers, teasing her.
She gasps, wincing.
He freezes. “What’s wrong?”
“A little sore,” she replies, but it’s not enough to deter her from wanting him inside her again as soon as possible. “Keep going.”
In a low, husky voice, he says, “Get on top of me.”
Uncertainty and anticipation rush through her. “I don’t—”
“Do you trust me?”
Unequivocally.
She nods.
“Guide me inside you.” His rough voice sets her aflame with the sudden realization that she likes when Wesley Quinn tells her what to do. “I want you to have complete control. Go as slow as you need.”
Biting her lip, she takes his cock, tips up her hips, guides it to her entrance. The pressure returns, but it feels so much better than before, and he fills her completely, her knees on either side of his hips.
Wes smiles, the one she loves the most. “Move your hips like—” His fingers slide over her waist, helping her, guiding her, and when he thrusts into her, she moans. “That feel okay?”
She nods again, moving on top of him, following his rhythm. One hand slides to the base of her spine, and the other finds her clit again, circling it. He moves with her, whispers, “Yes, just like that,” and begins a steady rhythm in time with the movement of her hips.
“You’re so good,” he whispers. “So perfect, Charlie.”
She finds a rhythm that makes them both pant, makes him beg her to keep going, not to stop. She dips her head to his neck, sucking on the spot under his ear.
“Beautiful,” he groans. “So fucking beautiful.”
His fingers slide against her faster, and she buries her hands in his hair, breathing his name in the sanctuary of her bedroom, the fire in her body building and building—
And she falls apart on top of him.
After he finds his own release, he traces lazy circles over the small of her back while she returns to her body. She climbs off, collapsing next to him on the bed with a contented laugh. He presses his lips to her temple, and she drifts off to sleep in the security of his arms.
Despite the brisk January chill, bright mid-morning sun warms the sidewalk.
She and Wes woke two hours earlier, her with a sudden inescapable heat building between her legs, and she realized he too was awake when her backside rubbed his hard erection and his fingers began a torturous descent to the apex of her thighs.
After another blissful shattering, she told him she needed to head to the clinic to get some work done that day.
He tried valiantly to convince her to stay in bed, and she appreciated his attempts.
No lingering insecurity remains. The fumbling nervousness she always imagined would mar her first time wasn’t there, and maybe that’s because of who they are together, the ease and comfort she no longer wants to deny.
He relented, letting her go, asking if he could come over later.
“If you want me to,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink with what she realized were nerves.
She did want him to, and she told him so.
She feels lighter than she has in weeks, or months, or maybe ever. Her footsteps are buoyed with optimism and hope and a clarity that what she’s doing is right. What she’s doing with the expo will work.
This feeling isn’t only because of Wes. But she won’t deny that he’s part of it.
A siren wails as a fire truck rolls past. She thinks nothing of it until it slows and parks outside the clinic’s main entrance.
Charlie freezes in the middle of the sidewalk, her body tilting on an axis.
With slow, deliberate steps, she walks the remaining few feet to where a small crowd is gathered, observing as firefighters dressed in full gear climb down from their truck and barrel through the doors.
A police officer holds back the crowd, his cruiser’s blue and white lights flashing.
A slim woman in a white beanie and a gray parka stands a little off to the side, hugging herself.
Numbly, Charlie excuses her way through the crowd. When she reaches the woman, she taps her gently on the shoulder.
Victoria turns, her face streaked with tears.
“Oh, Charlie.” She grasps her hand as another tear slips down her cheek.
Charlie stares at her grief-stricken face. “What happened?”