Charlotte hasn’t instigated more than flirting, nothing sexual at all and I want to make sure she’s comfortable. We have time, there’s no reason to rush, but I am desperate to touch her anyway. She grabs a smaller cloth bag and hides it behind her back.

She looks so damn ... I gently rub her hip as I stand. “Is that a secret?”

“For ... for now,” she answers softly, not looking away from me. “I want to do my own laundry. I’ll buy soap, I’ll ...”

I just keep staring down at her, unable to believe that she’s actually mine, she’s here even if it’s only for two weeks ...

“I ... I do have something else to tell you. I’m ... I’m not here for two weeks, I’m here for a month, so there’s really no rush… we can keep talking, actually see each other when we talk and ... and I’dreallylike to take a shower after traveling all day,” she says, clearly fumbling.

I sit down and she sucks her bottom lip. I laugh. “That’s not a secret, sweetheart, that’s an amazing surprise.”

“So ... can I shower?”

“You don’t need my permission to do that,” I assure, reaching out and squeezing her hand.

She beams, grabs a few things and hurries to the shower. I stare at the drawer she’s put her things into and replay that hopeful, eager glint to her face, how good she smells, feels, how she warms my house.

Then I hear a yelp and turn around as Charlotte peaks her head out from behind the door, her long hair waving down and making her eyes all the bluer. “I um ... can’t figure out the heat.”

I slip in, take care of it, but as I’m leaving and closing the door, I see her drop the towel, revealing every gorgeous inch of her back, her pert round ass, and the gentle swell of her breast from the side. My barely noticeable erection thickens and presses against my jeans until I’m sure I’m going to lose my mind. Even when she pulls the shower curtain, the silhouette of her body teases me and drives me insane.

Shutting the door, I press my back to it and take deep, slow breaths. We haven’t talked about sex. Haven’t hinted at it, but damn I want to make her mine in every way. I want her in my bed, smelling like my soap while I bury myself inside her.

It’s going to be such a long month and despite the fact I know my cock is going to be aching the whole time, I can’t make myself hate it. I chuckle and shake my head. I can’t wait for her to drive me insane as long as she doesn’t stop telling me every little thought in her mind.

When she starts singing while in the shower I grin, unashamed. She told me she couldn’t do that at home, even on a bad day because her parents would complain. Instead, I listen to her butchering the words to a song and feel my shoulders drop.

We’ll be fine together. More than fine. I am already on my knees.

Chapter 7 - Charlotte

Grant’s calm puts me at ease while we cook together in the kitchen. He hums the song I was singing in the shower, making me blush, but my smile just keeps slipping out. He has a bit of a silly side as he flips the steaks and pulls me into the circle of his arms to show me how to test the meat and make sure it’s perfect. I lean back against him to look up at him and he smiles gently.

“Cooking is plenty of fun,” he says before clearing his throat.

“With the right person, for sure,” I murmur.

I hear a soft groan and he gently touches my waist. “Do you want anything with the steak? Raid the fridge for me.”

Ducking under his arm and working to make a salad that will go with the steak is easy. It feels natural to wash the dishes he hands me to keep things clean and once we sit down to eat, we’re laughing and talking the same way we did on the phone.

Grant has this calm confidence that makes everything feel shockingly easy even though we’re basically strangers. Then again, I feel like I’ve shared more with him than anyone else in my life. Because he makes me feel safe enough to do just that.

Which is why I don’t think twice when we agree to sleep in the same bed. He doesn’t insist on cuddling, but he warns methat he snores and tells me I can shove him over if he gets too loud.

He plans out our next day and I fall asleep to the low, soothing sound of his voice and his foot rubbing mine under the blanket as our backs stay pressed together.

But I wake up spooning him. He’s snoring softly, so gently that I want to laugh at him for being worried, but I don’t really want to move either. Because he feels so good and even though I feel more like a jetpack than a big spoon, I like how we fit together.

Grant makes a low sound and rubs my thigh. His fingers tighten right near the hem of my cotton shorts and he groans softly, pulling me tighter around him. I feel my nipple harden against his back and I exhale over the back of his shoulder, only barely resisting the urge to kiss a faded burn scar there.

“Charlotte,” he murmurs.

“I might have broken the no touch rule,” I whisper.

He chuckles and pulls me tighter around him, his fingers skimming my shorts in a way that makes me dizzy. He sighs. “Break any rule you want, sweetheart.”

But that little hint of him wanting me and the hardness I feel against my thigh push me to get out of the bed before I make a bold move. I brush my teeth, get ready for the day, then make coffee for both of us. Grant comes down a bit later and looks me over with blatant hunger before taking a breath. “You might be cold dressed like that.” He says, referring to my light top and skirt.