Page 75 of Stay With Me

“Deal.” She grins. “I’m gonna run in and grab a shower. I just wanted you to know where I disappeared to.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in there soon.”

I don’t even try to stop myself from watching her as she walks away. So, when she squeals and hops a few steps, I see it all play out. She tosses a glance over her shoulder to check if I saw her dance, and when she sees me looking, she chuckles. “Sorry, I thought that stick was a snake,” she calls over her shoulder before she continues on to the house.

And as I bend down to stack the split wood, I can’t help but smile at the joy and sunshine Emily brings to my life.

* * *

EMILY

When I step into the house, shut the front door and lean against it, I close my eyes and allow the cool air caressing my skin to soothe all the hot places on my body. Well, most of them, anyway. There’s only one thing that can truly calm the burning desire for Charlie that’s been growing inside me for a while now—exponentially so since I moved in with him.

And, Christ, today, watching him all lumberjack-like as he split that wood. Oh. My. God. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to avoid touching myself in the shower with that image fresh in my head.

It’s been almost a year since I’ve felt a man’s touch on the most intimate parts of my body. So, to say I’m horny is a bit of an understatement.

Truthfully, though, if it were just that, I could maybe plead my case to Charlie that I needed him to help me relieve this… pressure. Friends do that for each other sometimes, right? But I know even if I could convince him, that’s not enough for me and it’s not in my best interest to lie to myself. Even if I want to.

I walk up to my room and undress down to my panties, then sit on the side of my bed. Several years of memories assault my mind, reminding me why I can’t beg Charlie to do a girl a favor. Because no matter what I tell myself, over the years my confusing feelings about Charlie Fitzgerald were just that—myconfusing feelings—he knew exactly what I was to him; just a friend. And I’d accepted it.

But then that kiss in April happened— the one I told him we didn’t have to talk about—and I can’t get it out of my mind.

A single tear slips down my cheek, and I swipe it away with the back of my hand.

I swear there have been glimpses that we could be more. But he’s had so many opportunities to make his wishes known if he desires more than friendship. And he hasn’t.

One thing is clear to me. The rekindling of our friendship this year may have reignited my crush on Charlie, but the last month or two, it’s grown well beyond that. I think I may have fallen in love with him.

And he’s made it abundantly clear—several times over the years—that those kinds of feelings are one-sided.

Resigned that I’ll have to provide my own relief, I slip off my panties and walk into the bathroom. I grab the fresh bottle of shampoo that just got delivered off the vanity and am about to step into the shower when I realize I forgot to pick up body wash after summer school this morning. And there’s no way I’m using this expensive ass shampoo to wash my body.

Damn it. I can’t go without body wash or a bar of soap. I’m pretty sure I smell from all the sweating I did today, and I’ll die if I have B.O. when Charlie and I watch a movie later.

Desperate, an idea strikes me. I slide on my cotton summer robe and hurry into the hallway, my shampoo still in my hand. When I peek over the railing and don’t see Charlie in the house yet to ask if I can borrow his body wash, I figure he won’t care and head toward his bedroom to grab it.

As I step into his room, it smells like him. In true creeper form, I stop, close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose. I love the way Charlie smells, fresh and clean, yet manly—like the smell when you walk through the woods after a strong summer storm has blown through all the pine and cedar branches, with just a hint of leather. Pure man.

His bed is off to the side, and when I look at it, the ache in my center grows more intense. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and step around the corner to his bathroom. And I freeze in my tracks.

My heart skips a beat as I slowly look around the room and my eyes drink in the luxury bathroom surrounding me. Immediately in front of me is a gorgeous floating double vanity, made from stunning black quartz, with a large mirror hanging over it. I walk over to it and take in how gorgeous it is. Setting my shampoo on the vanity, I continue to look around. To the right of that is the most beautiful shower I could ever imagine. It’sexactlythe shower I described to Charlie when he asked me to tell him about my dream house months ago. Two rainfall shower heads—one on each side like I envisioned. It’s even better because it has a built-in bench that a woman could use to prop her leg on when she needs to shave or wanted it propped for… other reasons. And the tub. I walk over to it and touch it, running my hand along its smooth, cool edge. It’s a huge, breathtaking, hammered copper two-person soaking tub.

What does this all mean?

“Emily.” Charlie’s voice is low, gravelly.

I slowly turn to face him. We stare at each other for several long seconds.

“I ran out of bodywash, so I came to borrow yours,” I whisper, in explanation.

He simply nods and I take a step toward him.

“This is the bathroom I described to you from my dream house.”

“It is.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me.

I move another foot in his direction. His smoldering hazel eyes watching me, searing me.

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