Page 113 of Bad Luck, Hard Love
“You're thinking too hard. I can see those wheels turning.”
“Just remembering how long it took to convince you I wouldn't break,” I reply, leaning forward to brush my lips against his jaw. “I'm not that fragile anymore.”
“Charlotte...”
“I know what I want. And I want you. All of you. No more holding back.”
Shadow chooses that moment to stretch, his claws kneading the comforter as he settles more firmly between us. Soren glares at him.
“Your timing is impeccable,” he mutters to the cat.
I laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. “He's just making sure you treat me right.”
“I've been treating you right for three months,” Soren protests. “This furry cockblock is just making things difficult.”
“Shadow, down,” I command gently. The cat gives me a look that clearly says 'absolutely not' before closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.
“Stubborn bastard,” Soren says, but he's smiling now. “Wonder where he gets that from.”
I slide my hand along his forearm, feeling the solid strength beneath his skin. “Maybe we could relocate? The living room? The kitchen?”
“Or I can lock him in the spare bedroom?”
Shadow's eyes snap open at the word “lock,” and he fixes Soren with a glare that could melt steel.
“I was joking,” Soren tells the cat, who somehow manages to look both offended and smug simultaneously. “Mostly. So about relocating?”
“I have an idea…”
“Follow me,” I say, slipping from beneath the covers. Shadow immediately protests with an indignant meow, but I'm already padding across the cool hardwood floors.
I glance over my shoulder to find Soren watching me.
“Where are we going?” Soren asks, rising from the bed. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, revealing the sharp V-cut of muscle disappearing beneath the waistband.
I don't answer, just crook my finger with a smile.
The deck doors slide open, and the ocean air rushes in to greet us—salt and seaweed. Our private stretch of beach glitters in the morning sun, empty for miles in both directions.
“Out here?” Soren's eyebrows shoot up, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Scared someone will see?” I tease, stepping onto the weathered boards of the deck. The wood is warm beneath my bare feet, already soaking up the California sun.
He follows me out, closing the door firmly in Shadow's indignant face. “More concerned about splinters in places splinters shouldn't be.”
I laugh, the sound carried away by the ocean breeze. “Then I guess you'll have to be careful where you put me.”
Suddenly, the playful banter shifts into something deeper, more urgent. He crosses the deck in two strides, backing me against the railing. The weathered wood presses against my spine as his hands bracket my hips, caging me in.
“You're sure about this?” he asks, still checking. Always checking.
Instead of answering with words, I reach for the hem of my shirt–his shirt–and pull it over my head. The ocean air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps that have nothing to do with the temperature. Soren's intake of breath is sharp, reverent.
“Fuck, Charlotte,” he breathes, his hands hovering just above my skin like he's afraid I'll disappear. “You're so goddamn beautiful.”
I take his hands, placing them on my waist. “Touch me. Please.”
His thumbs trace the curve of my ribcage, feather-light at first, then with growing confidence as I arch into his touch. The scars from Terrance have faded to thin silver lines, but Soren's fingers skip over them with deliberate gentleness. I press my body against his, needing to feel his warmth. The sun caresses my bare skin as his lips find my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone. I tilt my head back, exposing more of myself to him, to the sky, to the world.
