His gaze is on my lips then my eyes. He stares down at where we’re joined. “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had. Am I yours?”

My hands clutch his shoulders. “Yes,” I groan.

He moans and throws his head back against the couch when I swivel my hips.

A car pulls up outside and parks at the curb because the driveway spot is taken. Penelope. I watch from the window as she gets out of her car. Her classes are over. She stops to talk to Mrs. Keller, the older lady next door who just had knee surgery. They laugh at something, their voices under the window. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but she’s going to walk in—

“Not stopping, babe,” he says, his hands clenching my hips.

“We have to,” I call out, but I can’t let him go. He feels so good, and I’m close.

He lets out a curse and stands, still holding me as he carries me back to my bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot. I’m not sure how he did that with his jeans halfway down, but, well, he is an athlete. We fall back on the edge of my bed and land with him on top of me between my legs. He tries to shove his jeans down, but they get tangled on his shoes and he finally has to sit up and toe them off while I giggle.

“Damn, this is turning into comedy hour,” he murmurs when he turns back to me.

“I like it.” We always laughed together.

He smiles, runs his hands down my body, and pushes up my bunched skirt. He bends down and licks the skin on my inner thigh. I arch up, needing him back inside me. “Hurry…”

“I got you. I know what you want.” He moves back up to me, spreads my legs apart more, and slides in to the hilt, going deep at this angle.

I tighten my legs around his hips, whimpering as my heels dig into him. He starts an agonizingly slow pace, his strokes sure and disciplined, coming all the way out and then back in.

“Harder,” I whisper.

“Patience, baby,” he growls down at me.

My lips press against his neck and when I suck that skin, he grunts, picking up his maddening pace just a little, his hips twisting as he grinds down inside me.

I hear Penelope opening the front door, calling my name, and I block it out, watching him move above me.

I tug at the hem of his T-shirt, and he pauses and helps me, whipping it off and tossing it on the floor. He undoes my bra and throws it over his shoulder, a little curve on his lips as he stares down at me.

“You like this?” I say, cupping my breasts and brushing my finger over a nipple.

His throat bobs. “You. I like you.”

My hands clasp his shoulders, caressing the skin I’ve missed so much. He shudders when he clutches me against him, my breasts against his chest.

His words are broken up in pieces when he speaks, each phrase in sync with his thrusts as he picks back up. “Charm…we never did it like this…on a bed…me, looking down at you. How good is this,” he groans.

“So good,” I pant out.

He scoots us up and moves to his knees, adjusting so he holds my hips up at the tops of his thighs. I can’t really move, and he does all the work, so…intent on me. Holding my gaze, his finger rubs my clit as he slides in and out, back to that slow pace, savoring me.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I say, my lips parted, arching up for more.

“In my dreams, we do this. We do this all the time—me fucking you slow until you’re begging to come.”

“I’m begging now.” I lean up on my elbows, wanting him closer, wanting his skin against mine.

He slides back in, unhurried and deep, a small smile on his lips. “That’s not begging. Those are just pretty words. I like actions. Show me you want to come.”

Show him? Oh, I can. I reach up, grab a handful of his hair, and pull his face to mine. I lick his lips, just a tiny sweep, and give him a nip there before pulling away and staring into his dark eyes. I push his hand off my core and touch myself.

“Charm,” he growls, his hands moving my legs up until they’re over his shoulders and he’s looming over me, and when he pumps inside me this time, it’s ferocious and hard and out of control.

He feels bigger, thicker as he pushes into me, and my hands fall to my sides as fire licks at me. Need rising. Escalating, higher and higher.

Sweat drips off his face, and he’s muttering nonsensical stuff I can’t make out, his gaze needy…and emotional as he stares down at me.

He’s everything. He’s everything I never knew I wanted. He’s perfection wrapped in a dark, deep lake, and I ache to swim in those waters, to discover his secrets and let him delve into mine.

My body quakes for release, my mind holding this picture of him in my head. I don’t want to forget his beautiful face—wanting me.

I don’t want to forget a thing.

I say his name when I come with a groan, my back lifting off the bed, my head twisting as I vibrate around him.

He puts his face in my neck and goes with me, his shoulders stiffening under my hands then quivering. He continues to pump in and out until we both slow down, our breaths loud in the quiet room.

He rises up on his elbows and stares at my lips. “Charm.”

“Blaze.”

“How soon can you go again?” He grins.

I burst out laughing. “You are insane.”

“I am—for this.” He moves his head down close to me, his nose brushing against mine, his mouth inches away. I freeze, unease sliding over me. I can’t give him that. I can’t. It’s the final piece of me.

He sighs and rolls away from me.

Silence ticks by as we stare up at the ceiling.

He lifts his hands and scrubs the lines of his face.

A long breath comes from him, and I try to take his hand. He pulls it away from me, not far, but enough that I know he doesn’t want that.

I think a full minute goes by. I turn my head to look at him. “Do you regret…what just happened?”

He frowns. “No. I just had the best sex ever.”

Oh.

I chew on my lip. “But you don’t look happy.”

He focuses back on me just as his cell pings from his jeans.

“That’s your phone,” I say.

He exhales, sits up, and reaches for his pants on the floor where they ended up, fumbling for it. He reaches into his pocket, grabs the cell, and reads the message.

“Someone important?” I ask, sitting up, fighting annoyance, wondering if it’s one of the many girls who hang on him.

“Yeah.” He takes the condom off and throws it in the trash. Pulling his jeans up, he tucks his phone back in his pocket, grabs his shirt, and puts it back on. His shoulders are tense as he walks around the room, seeming lost in thought. He stops at the door, and I feel faint.

I stand up and straighten my skirt then put my bra back on. One of my heels came off, and I jerk the other one off, pushing it out of the way as I stand. “So…you’re…leaving?”

He stares at me, his expression torn. “I have to work out. I promised Coach and that was him. I can’t miss it.”

“So it wasn’t a fan?”

His eyes flare. “Honestly, I think you want me to say yes. It would make things easier for you.”

I toss my hair back. “Don’t turn this around. You’re the one standing at my door after sex.”

His voice is quiet. “Charm, you—you won’t even let me kiss you. Why do you care?”

My heart trembles inside me. “Then go!” I say, annoyance ratcheting up to anger.

He frowns. “Look, I know we’re not right. I know I’m not good at talking about this stuff. I’ve never had to—”

His phone pings again and he glances at it.

“Just answer it,” I grind out.

He looks back at me, frustration on his face. His fists clench. “This isn’t over. We’ll talk. I’ll text you later.”

“Don’t,” I say bitterly. “We both know what this was. Just like old times, huh?”

“No, it wasn’t, goddammit. We are not doing that again.”

“Then what is this?” My eyes search his.

He exhales slowly, his face shuttering. He swallows as he lifts his fist to his mouth. “I…don’t know.”

I remind myself that he gave me the choice to tell him to go—and I didn’t.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Yeah. I see exactly where this is going.

I walk over to him. “Let me make it easy for you. Get out.”

He taps his leg, staring at me.

“Charm—”

“Now.” Before I cry. Again.

He takes a long look at my face, heaves out a sigh, and walks away, shutting the door softly, and all the tension I’ve been holding in releases. I whimper and fall back on my bed, hands covering my face.

Penelope knocks on my door, but I don’t answer it. I hear her shuffling away.

I roll over and beat my pillow.

He owned my heart three months ago, and he knows it. He knows it.

I think back to that heart-revealing note. I was fooling myself with that blew away in the wind shit. I taped that fucker to his door, and at the time, I didn’t care who might walk by and see it, right out there for everyone. He got it and read it and if he felt the same way, if he were as gone for me as I am him, he would have told me by now.

He doesn’t want us.

If he did, he would have stayed.

18