Page 135 of With a Cherry On Top

Shit, I might come from the promise alone.

“You’re shaking,” she rasps. Her fingers finally brush against my cock and my hips jerk forward, desperate for more. “Nervous, Chef?”

“Bewitched,” I huff out.

She grins, then her hand wraps around my shaft, and I fucking choke on a breath as her fingers squeeze just right.

The second her mouth envelops me, the sound of keys rattling against the doorknob sends a jolt of panic straight to my chest.

Shit. Who the fuck is entering my house?

Charlotte freezes, her eyes widening as everything shifts from buzzing anticipation to a full-blown scramble. Her hand jerks back as I pull my briefs up, but it’s too late, becausethe door swings open and Logan steps inside, a look of mild confusion on his face.

“Oh, you’re...awake,” Logan says, looking at me. I see the moment he registers the bruise on my eye, then his gaze flicks to Charlotte, on her knees.

“Y-yeah. Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”

He hesitates. “Prim lost her keys last night and she’s got to leave early in the morning, so I came to grab the spare we left here.”

I gulp down air, zipping up my jeans as Charlotte stands, head tilted down to hide her chuckle.

“Oh, yeah.” I can feel my heart pounding in my throat as I cross then uncross my arms. “They’re in there. Top drawer to the right,” I say, pointing at the walk-in closet.

His eyes narrow ever so slightly, but he doesn’t comment before he walks to the closet and disappears inside.

I meet Charlotte’s amused gaze and mouthFuck, but she just giggles into her hand, completely unfazed. But she knows this is a problem. My brother finding us like this? He’s going to have questions I won’t be able to answer. Not honestly, at least.

“Got it,” he says, coming out of the closet with the keys. “Sorry about this.”

Sweat drips down my back. “No, no problem.”

Logan crosses his arms, eyes finally settling on Charlotte. “So...you’reyoung.”

“Thanks?” Charlotte’s lips twitch. “I’m twenty-three.”

Logan hums. “Inappropriately young, but technically okay.” He turns his glare back to me. “So why are you keeping her a secret?”

“I...” I look anywhere but at him. “I didn’t really want this to be public.”

“That must be nice to hear,” Logan says dryly.

Charlotte shrugs. “I’m not here for the boyfriend experience.”

Logan nods, his suspicion not budging an inch. He sticks out his hand. “Well, I’m Logan. Nice to meet you...”

“Cherry,” I interject.

The second the word leaves my mouth, I feel Charlotte’s glare on me and know I will pay for this. And she’s got every fucking reason to be mad too—I have no right to use her alias to hide my sins.

Charlotte takes it, shaking firmly. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Cherry.” Logan takes in her outfit—her miniskirt, a low-cut top that can barely be called that held up by thin straps, and the high, strappy heels. Then, with all the casual brutality of an interrogator, he says, “You must be the reason my brother smiles at his phone then?”

Charlotte shrugs, though I see the pride in her eyes.

“And the reason his phone moans back at him, I assume.” When neither of us says a word, Logan’s eyes narrow. “So what’s with you, huh? Are you married? Sugar baby? Mob wife? Cult leader?”

“Seriously?” I say flatly. “You left out murderer on the run and prostitute.”

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