Page 70 of The Troublemaker

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Okay.”

He moved his hand so that he was holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, as he had done on her couch that day.

Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WHATTHEHELLwas he doing? He had seen the question in her eyes, and he hadn’t been able to leave it unanswered.

He’d decided that he wouldn’t do this. Years ago he’d decided that.

But here he was.

Losing control.

Losing everything.

She was terrified. Shivering and shaking in his arms as he covered her mouth with his own.

But he hadwantedto do it. It was like every defense he’d ever had, every single one he’d built up since he was a teenage boy, had crumbled. And left behind had been the puerile fantasies that had possessed him back then.

The desire to be the one who showed her. The desire to be the one who made her lose it.

His Charity had so much control. She seemed so soft that people often interpreted it as her being inconsequential. But that wasn’t it. Everything about her was a consequence; every single damn thing. She was a storm wrapped in a flower petal, and woe to anyone who didn’t understand how deep she was. How hard. How strong.

He did. He understood.

And now he was kissing her. Slow and gentle. He coaxed her lips apart with the tip of his tongue, and she jerked against him when he breached her lips.

Then she softened, parting for him. He slid his tongue against hers, his whole body shuddering at the movement.

He was tasting her.His girl. This woman who had been a fixture in his life for all these years. Whose mouth had been a mystery to him all this time. He had tasted her.

He was shaken. It wasn’t his first kiss. He wasn’t totally sure if it was hers. But he wondered. And that teenage boy inside him wanted to roar in triumph. Because he had always wanted that, hadn’t he?

Her hands came up and gripped his damp shirt, and he wasn’t sure if she was holding him to her, or holding herself up.

He supposed that functionally, it didn’t make much difference.

He tilted his head, taking the kiss deeper, tasting her deeper, and she whimpered. She didn’t move much; in fact, it was like she was frozen, letting him lead, letting him charge the path forward on this exploration.

That was okay. For now. But he wanted more. He wanted her passion. He wanted...

What in the hell are you doing?

He lifted his head, pulling away from her. She was looking up at him, her lips swollen, her eyes wild. He had fantasized about those swollen lips. But not about the terror in her blue eyes. No. Not about that. He felt bad about that.

“Charity...”

“Is that what it’s like?” she whispered.

“What?”

“To be you. You want to do something, so you just do it? Damn the torpedoes?”

“Oh.” He laughed. Because it was kind of an absurd thing to say. “No. I... Is that what you think? That I just do whatever the hell I want whenever the hell I want to do it?”

“Yes.”

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