38. Take a picture, I want this to last longer
CHAPTER 38
TAKE A PICTURE, I WANT THIS TO LAST LONGER
EMMA
C harlie pants beside me, one hand lazily stroking my hip. He’s so wiped out, I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it, but I’m not about to tell him to stop.
There’s a pleasant ache in my thighs, left over from clenching around his waist, and a slow throb in my clit. Sweat is cooling on my skin, and everything smells like Charlie. Damn, I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed sex this much.
Before him, I skipped ahead to the destination, asking “are we there yet?” so frequently my body got fed up and turned the car around.
Now, I’m enjoying the ride. Windows down, sound up, screaming at the top of my lungs. I’ll be happy anywhere and everywhere with him beside me.
“Give me a minute.” He turns his head and drags a kiss over my shoulder. “And I can finish what I started.”
I turn to face him. His hair is dark and damp as I push it off his forehead. My heart skips a beat when he sighs and leans into the touch.
“Actually, I want to stay like this for a little while.”
I don’t sleep, but it’s close. I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.
Later, I slip from Charlie’s bed without waking him and pull on my underwear but forgo my clothes in favor of his faded T-shirt. It’s softer than silk, and I hope he’s not going to miss it, because I’m never taking it off.
His apartment is at least three times the size of mine, and I can tell we share the same soft spot for the essentials—that monstrosity of a television for Charlie, my beautiful couch. Charlie’s made an effort to combat the gray floors and walls with splashes of color, most of it in the form of animal toys.
There’s a dog bed on one side of the television and a cat tree on the other. Food and water bowls sit drying on a rack over the sink, and colorful toys are scattered through the apartment like the pet version of an Easter egg hunt.
There are easily more animal items than human ones. Besides a coffee machine, the kitchen counter is bare, and the same goes for the living room.
My heart aches. I’m tired of seeing empty spaces, and Charlie is too full of life to live within a blank slate.
In a hopeful moment, I sit cross-legged on the floor, batting away the robot vacuum that is dutifully clearing away stray cat hairs, and open the TV cabinet.
I’ve lost count now of the movies Charlie and I have watched together, passing comments through text and, more and more frequently, a phone call. He never complains when I talk over the movie to point out a detail my Nana passed on. I pretend not to love his commentary, even as I laugh. So, I’m curious to see how many of his favorites he owns. But inside the cupboard, instead of a row of DVDs, I’m met with a series of Polaroids and a small box of childhood collectibles.
With my hand on the lid, I debate whether to open it but stop when my phone buzzes.
It takes thirty seconds to locate it—dropped and kicked under the couch during our mutual strip earlier. On the screen is a text from my mother.
A blush rises all the way from my chest. Semi naked is no state to be talking to my parents in.
“Morning, sunshine,” comes from the bedroom.
Charlie is standing in the doorway, smiling. Sunlight creates a halo around him, his hair out of control. My fingers curl with the urge to run through it.
“Technically, it’s noon,” I tease.
“Only if you want to be specific.” He makes his way straight to the coffee machine. “Something important?” he asks, nodding at my phone.
I send off a quick “call you later” response and join him in the kitchen. He’s pulled on the sweats he was wearing when I arrived, but he hasn’t bothered with a shirt, a decision I’m fully onboard with. I’d be okay if he never wore a shirt again.
I slip my arms around his waist and bury my nose in his neck. His skin is warm, and he smells like sex and sleep. I never want to be anywhere else.
“My birthday is next week, and Mom is trying to convince me to let the foundation throw a luncheon for it, but it’s the last thing I want.”
“Then don’t do it,” he says, pressing a button on the coffee maker. “Do what you want to. Although if you say you want to work, I’m withholding sex.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Tugging me closer, he grabs my ass and squeezes. “I’ll take that bet.”
As penance, I scratch my nails lightly across his skin, just enough to tingle.
His breath stutters. When he opens his eyes, his expression is serious. “You seemed to enjoy being in the driver’s seat earlier. Have you ever tried that before?”
I almost want to laugh. It sometimes feels as though my entire life has been an endless search for control. “No. I’ve thought about it, but no one’s ever been interested before.”
“I am. You’re sexy when you’re in control.”
My heart pounds out a happy rhythm. “So are you.” It’s true. When I asked Charlie to take over, to help me let go, he did it wonderfully.
All while making sure I still felt powerful.
“That’s why management likes you. You’re decisive.”
He shrugs. “I’d rather say sorry than please.”
I can’t help but laugh. That explains a lot.
But damn, it’s a delicious picture. Charlie asking, begging. The fantasy sears every other thought from my mind. “Would you say please if I asked you to?”
He’s thinking of it too, I can tell. The hitch in his breathing, the open hunger in his eyes.
“Sure you don’t want to ask for something bigger?”
Being with him is like the swoop of turbulence. Something altogether scary and exciting. Unpredictable. And I can’t get enough.
I kiss him instead of answering.
“Do you enjoy it more one way or the other?” I ask. I want to make it good for him.
“I like both,” he says. “Depends on the day, how I’m feeling, who I’m sleeping with. I don’t have a problem with switching it up. Life throws enough shit at us to not find all the pleasure we can.”
“I think it’s time you showed me your list,” I tease.
He ducks his head, kisses and tugs on the tender part of my ear. Goose bumps flood my skin. “I’ll show you anything you want, sweetheart. Just know my list begins and ends with you.”
When the coffee is done, he fills two mugs without moving out of my reach. The coffee is good. But truly, I’m so blissed out he could hand me a cup of burnt tar, and it would taste like ambrosia.
“What would you do?” I eventually ask. “If you could do anything for your birthday?”
“I’ve heard Napa is wonderful this time of year,” he says, mimicking Logan’s voice.
I playfully nip at his collarbone. Getting a serious answer out of him is almost impossible.
With a chuckle, he relents. “I’m the wrong person to ask. Somewhere along the way, my paperwork got lost. Had to get a new birth certificate made up, and I mean made up . The records at the hospital were so bad, they couldn’t find my actual birth date, so they just put one in. I have no idea whether it’s right.”
My heart aches for him.
“So,” he continues, very carefully not meeting my eyes. “I decided to make every day count. Hell, today could be my birthday. It might be the best one I’ve ever had.”
I know what you mean. Time with you feels like a gift.
Before I can blurt out something ridiculous, I kiss him.
“I think,” I start, the wish slipping out soft and low, “I could be happy doing anything or nothing at all, as long as you were there.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “In that case, leave it up to me.”
I don’t think I could hold back my smile if you paid me to. “I’m in your capable hands.”
“You realize your phone takes photos too, right?” I tease when I ask about the Polaroid later.
Charlie appears at my back, kissing my neck and sending a thrill down my spine, and takes the camera from me.
“These are special. You get one shot, so you have to make it special. Have to make sure you only capture the really important stuff.”
With that, he steps around me, holds it up, and clicks.
It’s a few breaths before my heart remembers how to beat again.
“What’s this?” I turn to him, distracting myself with a worn red toy that looks like a child’s binoculars.
“You’re kidding,” Charlie pouts.
“What?” I huff a laugh. “I’ve never seen one before.”
It’s another sign of how differently we were raised.
“It’s a View-Master,” he says. “Go ahead. It won’t bite you.”
I bring it up to my face, and pull the lever, watching the slides change. It’s fascinating.
“Was it yours?” I hold it out to him.
He nods, his expression solemn, and takes it. “I didn’t keep much from the years before Reese. I never wanted to have more than I could take with me or less than I was willing to lose.”
He shakes himself out of his melancholy and dips in for a kiss.
“Since your birthday is coming up,” he says, holding the toy out to me again, “let me be the first to give you your present.”
My heart lodges itself in my throat. “I can’t take this. It’s yours.”
He presses it into my hands. “Yes, and I want to give it to you.”
“Charlie…” That’s all I manage against the rising swell in my chest.
“Emma,” he commands, playfulness dancing in his eyes. His tone is deep and so damn sexy it makes my body flush. “Let me give you the damn toy.”
There are a few things I’m certain of. Cold pizza tastes amazing. There’s nothing sexier than a man rolling up his cuffs. And Charlie is secretly the most thoughtful man I’ve ever met.
I nod and try not to be completely infatuated by him. I do a poor job.
How is it that this four-dollar piece of plastic has my stomach fluttering? No one’s ever given me a memento like this before. Small and ridiculous as it may be, it fills me with an explosion of glee I haven’t felt in… maybe ever.
Oh, if only eight-year-old Emma could see me now.
“Thank you,” I say. “Is there something I can get you?”
His gaze is unwavering, blue eyes warm and full of affection. “I’ve got everything I need right now.”
I’ve often wondered how my father—a gentle, quiet giant—came from my Nana. What she lacked in stature, she made up for with an enormity of presence. A direct opposite to my dad.
I inherited his height, and though I didn’t get much time with her, he’s assured me that I have her spirit. Growing up, it always sounded like a pretty lie, the kind parents start out telling their kids. Who we are by way of who we resemble.
I’ve never outright questioned it. To be honest, I’m flattered. Even if it isn’t true, it gives me a goal to aspire to. I’ve been attempting to emulate her ever since.
But maybe her watch isn’t all I have of her.
I couldn’t see it before, but the way Charlie looks at me, as though maybe I, too, have the power to shift the universe, makes me want to believe.