Page 44 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

I let out a shaky breath, deciding to go all in with the truth. "I’m afraid of liking you too much. Of being hurt. Of being just another woman you turn up the charm with and then eventually discard."

Charlie's eyes soften. "I can't promise I won't ever hurt you, Tess. But that’s the last thing I want to do. And I have changed—that I know for certain.."

I'm very aware of how close we're sitting, of the way his t-shirt pulls across his chest when he breathes, of how easy it would be to lean in and...

"I'm willing to take it slow," he says, misreading my silence. "As slow as you need."

And something inside me shifts—some final resistance giving way to the pull I've been fighting.

Charlie’s words hang in the air between us, suddenly heavy with possibility. I look at our joined hands, at the strong fingers threaded through mine, and something inside me cracks open.

I've spent my whole life being careful. But right now, with Charlie's eyes on me, dark with wanting, I don't want careful. I don't want slow. "What if I don't want slow?" I whisper, and the shift in his expression—surprise followed by heat—sends a thrill through me.

"Tess." Just my name, but the way he says it—low and rough—makes me melt.

I lean in first, surprising both of us. My lips find his, tentative for only a moment before the same electricity that sparked between us at the wedding takes over.

Charlie's hand comes up to cradle my face, his touch impossibly gentle despite the urgency of his kiss. My fingers thread through his hair, soft and thick, anchoring him to me as the kiss deepens. He tastes so damn good.

His other arm wraps around my waist, drawing me closer until I'm half in his lap, the heat of him burning through the thin fabric of my concert dress. I should be embarrassed by how quickly I'm surrendering, by the small sound that escapes me when his mouth trails from my lips to my jaw, but all I feel is yes and more, please. Right now…

"Are you sure?" he murmurs against my neck, and the fact that he's checking—that even now, with desire practically radiating from him, he's making sure—melts me again.

"Yes," I breathe, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "One hundred percent."

His smile is slow and devastating. "I need you."

“You got me.”

Then his mouth is on mine again, and we're falling back against the couch cushions, my body arching into his. My hair comes loose from its bun, tumbling around us as Charlie's hands roam—down my sides, across my back, dipping lower in a way that makes me ache.

This should scare me—the speed of it, the intensity—but instead, I feel a rush and I know this is exactly what I want, what I’ve been craving.

Charlie stands, pulling me up with him. We make it halfway there before he presses me against the wall, his hard length against me, his hands finding the zipper of my dress. I should feel exposed as the fabric loosens, but all I feel is sweetanticipation. My fingers fumble with the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs as the dress slips down, pooling at my feet. I'm left in just my bra and panties, the cool air giving me goosebumps.

I tug his shirt over his head, revealing his broad chest. "So are you."

We stumble into my bedroom, with half-removed clothing. Charlie lays me down on my bed, his body following mine, so much skin to skin it nearly takes my breath away.

"Tell me what you like," he breathes against my ear, and the question nearly undoes me. No one has ever asked before—they've just assumed.

Charlie’s breath is hot against my neck, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing into my thigh. Two weeks ago, I was nervous, unsure if I was making a mistake. But now? Now, I’m fucking starved for him. My body remembers his, and it’s screaming for more.

“I like this,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, my hand guiding his down my body until his fingers brush against my slick pussy. “I like yourighthere.”

His smirk is wicked, his teeth grazing my shoulder as he growls, “Good, because that’s exactly where I want to be.”

His fingers don’t hesitate. They slide through my folds, teasing my clit with cruel precision, and I arch into his touch. “Fuck,” I hiss, my nails digging into his arm. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not planning to,” he says quietly, his voice low and gravelly. He shifts, his mouth trailing down my body, leaving a wet, searing path across my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach. His tongue flicks over my nipples, and I whimper, my hips bucking uncontrollably.

“You taste fucking incredible,” he says, his breath hot against my skin as he moves lower, lower, until his mouth is right where I want it. His tongue licks up my slit, and I gasp, my hands fisting the sheets. “Christ, Charlie?—”

He chuckles softly, obviously knowing exactly what he’s doing to me. His tongue flicks my clit in little circles, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he devours me. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs against me, his voice rough. “Fuck, Tess, you’re dripping for me.”

I can’t think, can’t speak. All I can do is feel as he drives me closer and closer to the edge. His continues to tongue my clit, and just when I think I’m about to come, he pulls back, leaving me aching and desperate.

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