She stared at the picture for a minute, blinking to keep herself from crying in frustration over the sense of betrayal that had settled in her stomach over the random guy she knew was going to be leaving any day.
“Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “You can yell or scream or kick me, but you aren’t a crier, and if I make you cry…” He trailed off, stepping closer to her and caging her in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
Steadying her breathing, she rested her forehead on Alex’s chest. “I’m mad that I’m mad.”
His arms wrapped around her and he laid his chin on her head. “If this was reversed, I’d be kicking in some asshole’s door, beating him to a pulp, and snapping your phone in half.”
She took a deep breath. “We both know this is temporary. I guess I’m just not sure exactly what we expect or want here.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want any of that. I wanted this.”
*
Alex nuzzled Charlotte’shair, trying to erase the image of her tearing eyes from his mind. Her hold on him had changed, the hesitant grip she initially had on him tightening, her thumbs brushing against his shirt in a soothing, rhythmic motion. He ran his lips along her forehead, bringing his hand under her chin so he could kiss her properly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her lips, pushing her hair behind her ear and closing his eyes when she drew in a shuddered breath.
Killing me.
When she didn’t resist his initial advances, he trailed his tongue across her lips, tangling it with hers when her mouth parted and gave him entry. Her chest was still rising in short bursts against his, a constant reminder of his screw-up despite the fingers trailing softly up his spine, sending jolts of lust through him as he kissed her leisurely.
He ducked his head into the crook of her neck, running his tongue up to her earlobe and pulling her against him when he breathed into her ear and she shivered, her nails digging into his back. “Are we making up?” he asked, dragging his tongue down her neck and kneeling in front of her, pushing her shirt up to kiss the soft skin of her stomach.
Her hands tangled in his hair, her breath hitching when he began easing her shorts off her hips. “Do kind-of couples do that?” she whispered, stepping out of the shorts and whimpering as he rose up, pulling her shirt over her head and cupping one lace-covered breast.
“Damn right we do. I’m sorry,” he reiterated against her lips, kissing her deeply while he backed her slowly toward her bedroom, unhooking her bra and dropping it on the floor. He lay her on the bed, taking off his own shirt and fumbling with the buttons of his shorts before he kicked them off and crawled on top of her, desperate to be as close to her as he could. Hooking his thumbs in her panties, he pulled them off and sat back on his haunches to admire the view.
Her knees drew together, her arms crossing over her breasts. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked, nudging her knees apart and wedging his hips in between them. He grabbed her wrists and unfolded her arms from her body, flicking his tongue over one nipple as he ran his thumb over the other.
“Like you’re going to eat me. It’s unnerving,” she huffed, her back arching toward his lips and canceling out her feigned indignation.
He pushed himself up onto one elbow and reached between her thighs. “Would you let me?” he asked, glancing down at his hand and smirking when she blushed and shook her head. “You might like it. I sure as hell would.”
When her knees began to tighten around his hips defensively, he let her off the hook, kissing her softly. “Another night?” She looked away, ignoring his request. He trailed his lips to her ear, sliding his fingers through her wetness and groaning as her hips lifted to his hand. “I have an embarrassingly low amount of self-control with you,” he murmured, circling her nub with his thumb and ignoring his demanding hard-on while he began describing just how hot she was making him. He listened for the telltale changes in her breathing as he worked her, getting even more turned on when he realized her strongest responses came with every thought he whispered into her ear.
Charlotte reached between them and wrapped her hand around his length, running him through her slick folds and sending his eyes rolling back. When her hips lifted to him impatiently, he stilled her hand. “I’m probably going to last thirty seconds if you do that,” he warned, slipping two fingers inside her and covering her body with his, nibbling on her ear. “Want to know what did me in last time?”
Her breathing grew shorter, her thighs tightening at his hips. “What?”
“The way you said my name when you came,” he breathed, the memory alone nearly setting him off. He adjusted the pressure of his thumb and was rewarded with a soft gasp. “The way your nails dug into my back like they are right now,” he continued, easing his fingers out of her and lining his erection up with her entrance, lolling his head back when she wound one hand into his hair and tugged. “And that.” He groaned, pushing inside her as her body began to tighten around him.
He thrust into her heat slowly as she began to gasp, her nails scratching down his back and his name finally on her lips. He swallowed and gritted his teeth, amping up his speed. “Come on, baby.” He moaned, pushing up so he could watch her face as she came undone, her back arching off the bed and her grip on his hair becoming deliciously painful.
“Lex…” She dug her heels into his ass. “Harder?”
He lost his rhythm for a moment with the request, dropping back to his elbows and biting down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He gripped her hip with one hand and plowed into her, his body taking over the instinctual act as she fell over the edge, dragging him along with her. He snarled out a slew of curses as he released inside her, the euphoria taking over his entire mind and body until he collapsed onto her, his toes still curled with the aftershocks.
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte traced thedefined lines of Alex’s chest with her fingers, marveling at the amount of heat he was still giving off despite the amped-up air conditioner blowing across them. “I’m not answering that.”
He rolled her onto her back and straddled her, his long hair falling forward. “Fair’s fair,” he stated, sitting back and running his hands up her body. “How many?”
“Hardly fair,” she complained. “‘More than I want to admit’ is not an answer.”
He looked down at her, closing one eye, then the other. “I honestly lost count. Is it more than five?”