Chapter 18
Jessica
I’m not sure what I expected Charlie’s house to look like, but this isn’t it. Surrounded by mature trees, the modest-sized, two-story Craftsman bungalow with a traditional large, covered porch, rich cedar shingles. and slate-gray details is almost homey.
It looks inviting. Like it wants to welcome you with a warm hug.
Considering Charlie doesn’t exactly scream cozy, I’m surprised.
Through the etched glass, I see him walk to the door, swinging it open. Feet bare, he stands before me in a pair of jeans and a loose, faded blue T-shirt.
Unfamiliar nerves dance a tango in my stomach. Tongue-tied, I attempt to peer around him to get a glimpse inside, but his broad shoulders take up the space, blocking my view.
I toss my hair and say the first thing that pops into my head. “You mean to tell me this whole time I could have walked to your house, and you failed to mention it?”
He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “When was I supposed to drop my address into conversation?”
I put my hands on my hips. “You could have texted it to me.”
“Randomly texting my address to a woman who won’t talk to or look at me is wandering into creepy, stalker territory.” His gaze drifts down my body, his jaw hardening.
“You could have texted with a lead-in.” Looks like we’re jumping right into the deep end. Here I thought I’d at least get to flirt first. Maybe charm him a little.
But it seems he’s done wasting time.
“You know why I didn’t.” He drinks me in like he’s been waiting his whole life just to look at me.
The longer he looks, the hotter I get. “Maybe I took it too far.”
“Why do you think that is?” The intent focus of his attention is thrilling, and I do my best not to get distracted since we’re apparently going to talk about what happened instead of ignoring it like normal people.
I shift on the balls of my feet.
“No games, Jessica. I want the truth.”
My diaphragm jumps in an unsteady beat. “I got spooked and forgot how to talk to you.”
His eyes are dark and fathomless, searching. “And your solution was to immediately attach yourself to another guy?”
“It, um, made sense to me at the time.”
“I think it’s only fair you pay, don’t you?”
I can literally feel myself grow wetter at the thought, but I still disagree. “You weren’t entirely blameless.”
He laughs. “What did I do?”
“You challenged me. You didn’t have faith I could play it cool. Therefore, I had to prove you wrong. You could have come after me.”
He rolls his eyes. “You asked me to keep things a secret. How was I supposed to come after you?”
“I didn’t think you were a permission guy.”
“I’m a permission guy when it comes to consent. I’m a permission guy when it comes to a promise I made to you.”
Oh. Only then does it occur to me I’ve become so accustomed to men ignoring what I want, I anticipate my wishes being dismissed.
I’d expected Charlie to disregard me.
I swallow hard. His word to me had meant more than his lust for me.
Unfortunately, it never occurred to me that would be the case.
I look past him, trying to see into his house. “Maybe we should talk about this inside.”
He shakes his head. “No, we’re talking about it now, and then we’re leaving it on the porch and in the past where it belongs.”
I sigh. “All right, fine. But I want it noted for the record that you’re very bossy.”
“You’ve missed it, huh?”
My brows slam together. “I did not.”
He readjusts his body on the doorframe. “And I would like it noted for the record that your definition of playing it cool is still complete shit.”
I place my palm on my chest. “How can you say that? I was so cool you thought you were iced out.”
“You didn’t execute the way I expected, but then, that’s nothing new. But don’t think for one second everyone didn’t know we were very much not cool.”
My gaze slides away. “Not everyone.”
“Do you intend on rectifying that?” Charlie’s voice holds a quality to it that is both stern and scorching hot.
I was wrong, and he’s right to call me on it. I’d manipulated Cole Montgomery being into me and used it because Charlie scares me, and I wanted the upper hand. My actions were about controlling the situation.
I played games, and it backfired.
But I don’t want to play games anymore.
I want to give in. I’m done resisting. “I have been.”
He raises a brow. “Directly?”
I think of the other night at Sam’s, how it looked when Charlie got there and Cole was talking to me. “Well, not exactly, but I’m pretty sure on Friday the, um, situation was clear.”
Silence sits between us until my attention is pulled back to the man in front of me. Only then does he say in a hard voice, “I don’t care how you do it, but make sure Cole Montgomery is crystal clear he has zero shot with you.”
My body takes it as the claiming it is. “What about you?”
“Do you see me with anyone else?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
“It’s not happening.” The words are direct, and he doesn’t shy away from them. “I don’t want anyone but you.”
Oh my god. What does this mean?
Are we, like…a couple?
The part of me that sets boundaries so men don’t expect too much from me, wants to start laying out parameters, but that’s habit.
I’m not standing here because I want his cock inside me.
I’m standing here because when I’m with him, something I can’t name fits into a space I hadn’t even realized I had. “You’re the only one I want too.”
“Good.” The word is gruff and authoritative.
The tension coils tight, and I can’t stand the silence. I give him a little smirk. “Do I get credit for making the first move even though I’m a girl?”
A smile twitches at his lips. “Ah, I see. You’re a feminist when it works to your advantage, but otherwise, you’re just a girl.”
I open a little, hoping to make him understand. “Once, in college, this guy tried to hold my hand in public, and I gave him a lecture about possessive displays of affection being a tool of the patriarchy.”
“Sounds about right.” He chuckles, all low and unhurried.
I twist the silver ring on my middle finger. “I might be willing to let you hold my hand.”
Amusement sparkles in his dark eyes. “So let me get this straight. You’ll let me do any filthy thing I want to you, but you’re contemplating if I can hold your hand?”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine, you can hold my hand.”
He outright laughs now. “You’re adorable.”
I slam my hands on my hips. “You take that back.”
“I will not.”
“You make me feel like a girl, and I don’t like it.” I stomp my foot.
“That must be very difficult for you.”
I sniff. “It is.”
“You like to be in control.” It’s a statement of fact, not a question.
“Of course.”
“Even though it doesn’t make your cunt wet.”
I swallow hard as my nipples tighten. I shrug in answer.
He straightens from his casual leaning on the wooden frame. “I will never ask you to play it cool again.”
I flutter my lashes. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“In return, you won’t try to make me jealous.”
The lawyer in me spots the loophole. “I can’t control if you get jealous or not.”
“You can’t.” He gives me a narrowed-eyed stare. “Key words here are you and trying.”
“That’s fair,” I say, to show him I can be reasonable.
He takes in my powder-blue sundress. Designed to give him easy access, it hugs and clings. “Nice dress.”
“I went for slutty casual.” I push my hair over my shoulder.
He reaches out and hooks his finger into the v between my breasts and tugs me closer. “You’ve succeeded.”
The words sizzle across my skin as I fall into him.
He catches me around the waist. “Once, a girl wanted me to give her possessive displays of affection, and I broke up with her the next day.”
I crane my neck to look at him. “Sounds about right.”
“I’d give you possessive displays of affection.” Then his mouth is on mine.
With wild abandon, I throw my arms around his neck.
His tongue slides past my lips to tangle with mine.
I rise on my tiptoes, the short hem of my sundress riding high on my thighs.
He palms my ass, squeezing.
I rub my breasts against his hard chest.
Our lips part. Our heads shift. Angle.
Crash together again.
I tangle my fingers in his hair as a needy urgency takes hold of me.
His arms tighten.
We kiss harder. Deeper.
I’m so happy to be in his arms again.
This man is everything I’ve secretly dreamed of.
This man—
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” a loud, female voice calls out.
We rip apart, panting as we stare at each other for a fraction of a second before he lifts his head to peer past me. “Afternoon, Mrs. Rivera.”
A woman in her sixties with short, dark hair that ends at her chin, wearing a hot-pink tracksuit, is standing in the driveway with a little white dog, looking back and forth between Charlie and me. “Is that the new city attorney?”
He sighs. “It is.”
“It’s great to meet you.” She waves at me.
I wave back. “You too.”
“You’re the chief’s sister, right?” Her expression is filled with the glee of an experienced gossiper.
“I am,” I say, not inviting any additional conversation.
Her little dog barks, and she shushes it before giving Charlie a stern look. “Now, you know not everyone in town is as open-minded as I am, so it might not be a good idea for two public officials to make out in broad daylight so close to an election year.”
“Thanks for the advice.” He grips my wrist and waves with his free hand. “Have a good one, Mrs. Rivera.”
The aggrieved tone amuses me to no end. “Didn’t you just win reelection?”
“Yep, but it’s never too early to start harassing me about the next one.” Charlie pulls me into his house.
I laugh. “Does this mean everyone is going to be talking about us?”
“They’ve already been talking about us.” He shuts the door, and whatever the older woman was saying is drowned out. “Only difference is now they can talk about it to our faces instead of behind our backs.”