Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
CHARLI
Teague continued to be attentive for the rest of our date, spoiling me with dessert, holding my hand on the way home, but the passionate kiss I’d been anticipating never happened. All I got was a peck on the cheek and a searching look as he said good night.
Why do I feel like I want to throw a tantrum? Because I’m an idiot. I felt sexy. Desirable. The heat in his eyes when he saw me was fire. Literally scorching. I felt it. Felt him. I could almost picture what he wanted to do to me.
I thought a date would be like one of my daydreams where I say and do all the right things in this sexy, flirtatious voice. Instead, I opened my mouth, and all my anxiety and insecurities poured out. I stuff the pillow over my face and let out a short scream.
Here I am. Safe with a dream job. Gorgeous apartment.
And I still have boxes sitting in my living room.
I glare at them. Sweeping back the comforter, I slip my feet into my fuzzy slippers and march toward the kitchen to make some coffee.
Meticulously following the instructions, I stand there waiting for the espresso to brew.
A minute later, I add all the extras and take a sip.
Mmm. Without thinking, I reach out to Teague through our connection.
I did it. Made my first delicious coffee.
Much better than jumping in a cold car and heading down to the coffee shop, isn’t it? We’re leaving in five. I don’t know how strong our connection will be while I’m away. Call if you need me.
Be careful.
For the first time, it hits me how dangerous this could be, and I bite the inside of my cheek at the thought of anything happening to him.
And Macklin. Last night, he said they thought whoever captured Mavros was organized and well-funded and likely responsible for quite a few disappearances.
A shiver runs down my spine. I know how it feels to be hunted.
Hopefully, Mavros will lead us to Raine and the girl.
There’s a slight commotion in the hall, and I lightly run to the door and peer through the peephole, but the bodies walking by are a blur.
Unable to help myself, I reach for the connection.
One man slows, and I see Teague’s sterling blue-grey eyes for a brief second.
His hand lifts halfway, then drops back to his side. A microsecond later, they’re gone.
I slowly walk back to the sofa and finish my coffee. Barely seven in the morning. On a Sunday. What did I do before when I had all these hours to fill?
Reluctantly, I get out my laptop and log in to the job portal.
I finished the character drawings last week, but I have yet to search for something new.
Knowing I won’t get my first paycheck from Granite Securities for at least another week, I haphazardly search for a new gig, but after ten minutes of scrolling through endless jobs, I drop my head back. I’m not in the mood.
Sun shines brightly through the window, and I jump up.
It’s a perfect day for strolling around downtown Greystone.
I take the last sip of coffee and fold my makeshift bed, then head toward my closet.
Let’s see. Green sweater. Black sweater.
Navy sweater. Light grey sweater. I grab the navy along with a worn pair of jeans that have seen better days and my sneakers.
Finishing up with teeth and hair, I slip the lodestone over my neck and head out the door.
I tip my face to the sun and the warm rays. Nothing like the south but not too bad for the mountains. I laugh. Either I’m getting more acclimated, or it’s actually warmer today.
Quiet descends like a weighted blanket in my mind, and for the first time since I arrived, I feel like myself again. Self-sufficient. Doing my own thing. I stroll down Main Street, careful not to brush up against anyone, while I take stock of the stores.
The smell of fresh-baked bread lures me into a shop on the corner where I find loaf after loaf along with a plethora of desserts and pastries, waiting for me to take them home.
I snag a croissant for breakfast, a cupcake for the afternoon, and a small piece of banana bread to eat for breakfast the next couple of days.
Unable to wait, I pull off a piece of the flaky croissant and stuff it in my mouth.
Mmm. I almost wish I hadn’t found the little bakery.
This could be dangerous. I step out and walk right into someone.
“Sorry, I….” I stop when I see Martin standing there with bloodshot eyes and a twisted smirk on his scruffy face.
“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who got me fired,” he sings, the strong scent of alcohol making me scrunch up my nose.
Not wanting to encourage him, I step to the side and dip my head. “Martin.”
He slides in front of me, blocking the way. “I saw Teague and his little friends boarding a helicopter a little bit ago. Guess that means you’re here all by yourself. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” His fingers wrap around my elbow and dig in deep.
I flinch. “What do you want?”
“My job back,” he says with a hiccup. “And you on your knees giving me the apology I deserve.” He cups his crotch, and disgust rolls over me. “I worked for Granite Securities for ten years, and they fire me over a piece of ass?” Something ripples across his skin.
What is he? Frantic, I yank on my arm, trying to get free, but he uses his body to shove me into the nearby alley and up against the brick wall. Rancid breath fills my nostrils, and my stomach heaves. I’m going to throw up. His knee slides between mine.
I immediately reach for the connection. Teague!
The string between us stretches and vibrates, but his reply is muffled, then silent. My phone rings, and I try to grab it, but Martin snatches both my arms and twists them behind my back. I’m on my own. I brace my foot on the brick wall and shove with all my might. He doesn’t budge.
“Martin, I suggest you release her,” a familiar voice demands.
Martin glances over his shoulder and stiffens.
With his head out of the way, I see Maureen’s eyebrow arch high as she waits for him to comply.
Martin curses and lifts his hand away from me. “Keep your hands to yourself.” He mutters to Maureen, then looks at me. “Another time, darlin’.” He scurries away as if he’s afraid of Raine’s mother.
Interesting. Is it because she can access memories?
“Heard from Raine yet?” Maureen asks, her voice curt.
“No,” I tell her, silently debating the wisdom of giving her my number. Raine’s her daughter, I remind myself as I pull out my phone. “Why don’t you add your number, and if she contacts me, I’ll call you?”
She snatches it from my hand and quickly types in her number. “Call me any time. Doesn’t matter.” She hands it back, then turns to walk away. “Oh, and stay away from Martin. He’s bad news.”
Not like I went searching for him. With a sigh, I shakily pick up the box with my little treasures and brush off my clothes. My phone rings again, and I wince when I see it’s Teague.
“Hello,” I answer, trying to decide what to tell him.
“I heard you call my name. What’s wrong?” When I’m silent, he blows out a breath. “Charli. Are you hurt? Do you need help?”
Not wanting him to turn back, I adopt a cheery tone. “Sorry. I wanted to tell you to be careful.”
“You sure?” he asks in a skeptical tone.
“All good. I’m doing a little shopping,” I tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.” Before he can dig deeper, I hang up.
I don’t want him to return because I got scared. Not when someone else’s life might be on the line. But I’ll definitely tell him when he gets back.
Determined to continue my first adventure in forever, I stroll down Main Street, walking in and out of cute little shops.
Surprisingly, I run into several people I know from work.
Good thing I brushed my hair and put on something decent.
I smile, ask how their weekend is going, then move on.
Thankfully, not one person mentions Andros’ rampage.
I reach the end of the shops and pivot on my heel to walk back to my apartment.
My neck tingles the entire way as if someone is watching me.
Using my fingerprint, I quickly enter the lobby, then swing the door shut and slump against it.
My heart is thumping hard in my chest, and my breath is coming in short gasps.
A second later, the handle jiggles, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle any noises.
I listen to the beeps as someone tries to enter a code.
The system emits a negative sound. They jiggle the handle again.
I wait. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple. Nothing.
I push off the door and head toward the elevator. I’m really glad Macklin upgraded the system. I wonder if they have cameras? I’ll ask when they get back. I want to know who tried to get in.
In my apartment, I put the pastries in the kitchen and change back into my pajamas.
Then I grab my sketchbook and snuggle into the comforter on the couch, losing myself to the series of sketches I’ve been waiting to draw all week.
The fierce expression on Macklin’s face as he threatened Maureen.
Teague’s heated expression when he picked me up for our date. Andros’ teeth lengthening.
Uneasy about leaving the apartment for dinner, I scrummage around my kitchen for something to eat and eventually grab the can of soup Macklin bought me.
And the bottle of wine. On the road, I never let myself drink.
Too worried I’d have to escape a peeping Tom, or the police would force me to move.
But it was so nice to have a glass last night.
The chicken pot pie soup is basic but filling.
I pick up the cupcake, peel back the pretty little snowflake paper, and take a bite.
Biscoff creaminess explodes in my mouth, and I moan at the scrumptiousness of it.
This is freaking absurd. In all the best ways.
The bakery is definitely going on my treat list.
I lick my finger and dab it on all the crumbs until there is literally nothing left, then finish off my glass of wine.
Taking everything into the kitchen, I wash the few dishes and put them back in the cabinet.
I glance at the crate full of food. Before I can overanalyze, I pick up the jar of peanut butter, spin around, and put it in the cabinet.
I stare at it for a long moment, then shut the door.
My phone pings, and I rush into the living room and pick it up.
Teague: We’re here. You doing good?
Charli: Fine. Be careful.
Teague: You too. Sweet dreams.
There’s no point in telling him what happened until he gets back. He needs to focus on the mission. I rub my tight chest, barely able to feel him. Something in me reaches out, needing to connect, and a faint warmth returns. I slowly exhale.
Only six-thirty. This is officially the longest day ever.
Flopping down on the couch, I grab my laptop and click through video after video on YouTube.
Graphic design, nomads living in vehicles, dating 101, shopping videos.
My laptop runs out of juice, and I snap the lid shut and plug it in to charge.
Nine o’clock. Finally. I brush my teeth and turn out all the main lights. Then, I double-check the lock on the door and turn on the microwave light. Snuggling down into the couch, I drift off to sleep.
Bending her back over my arm, I slide my tongue down the deep V until it stops on the gold chain. “Fuck you taste as good as you smell.” Tugging on it with my teeth, I follow it to the mound on the right and nibble on the plump curve. She gasps and arches into my mouth.
My hand slides up and down my cock.
Needing more, I glide my hand up the inside of her thigh until the silk of her panties brushes against my hand.
Damp with need. I groan and hook the edge, then slip my finger inside.
“So wet.” Her breath hitches, and she spreads her legs wider.
What I wouldn’t give to slide into her. Claim her. Complete the bond.
I exhale harshly, stroking my cock faster.
She moves restlessly, little whimpers escaping her throat.
I push one finger in, and her low moan brings me closer to the edge.
I move my mouth to the outer curve of her other breast and give it the same attention as the first. Adding a second finger, I stretch her, then quicken my pace.
She grips my neck as her hips begin to move, matching the rhythm I’ve set.
Stroking in and out, I lift my head and watch the flush on her cheeks deepen.
My balls draw up, and a familiar tingling sensation builds. My hand moves faster, up and down, from base to tip.
“Teague,” she begs. Grinding my palm down on her clit, I watch her light green eyes widen and her mouth drop as she comes all over my fingers.
My release hits, and I slap a hand on the tile, breathing hard.
“Teague!” I call out as I wake, drenched in sweat and desire and gasping for air.
Disoriented, I stare at the smooth ceiling above the couch, confused to see it isn’t blue tile. I glance around. Alone. But yet, not alone.
My cheeks flush when I realize Teague must have pulled me into our connection while he was in the shower. I suck on my bottom lip as I think about what he was fantasizing about as he took care of himself. Damn, that was hot.
With a groan, I get up and use the restroom, then peel off my soaked pajamas. Grabbing a long T-shirt and a pair of boxers, I crawl back under the covers and ignore the ache between my legs.