“Charlie . . .” I whisper, shaken, pulling him down for a kiss. It’s not just a kiss, though. It feels different. Like the never-ending one back in the park, it’s like we’re imploring one another, no idea what we’re actually seeking. What does it say about me that I break away, desperate to get us back on footing I recognize? A place where I’ll still be standing when he leaves after we’re done. “What would you do with the picture?”
I expect him to say something filthy and he does. “Stroke myself off like an inmate who got his dirty hands on a Maxim. Don’t act like you don’t know, Ever.” But I don’t expect the blow that follows, so I’m not prepared. I’m without armor. “Or I might just stare at it and wondered what the fuck is wrong with me. That I’d stand there, let you tell me you’re going to date other men and not beg you to reconsider.” He burrows his face into my neck and rides me hard. Harder than before. “What the fuck is wrong with me, Ever?”
My arms band around the breadth of his back, my ankles cross just above those rolling hips. His breath is jagged, his drives relentless . . . and there’s no place to hide from the orgasm that grabs me around the throat. It consumes my body, throwing my back into an arch, turning my eyes blind. “Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.”
My sight returns just enough to watch his jaw lose power, mouth dropping open as he climaxes, his erection straining inside me, hips jerking with powerful spasms. “Oh Christ. Ever. You’re so goddamn tight. So tight, squeezing me like that. You turn me fucking crazy. Coming so good inside you. You make me come so good.”
I’m depleted of all strength by the time Charlie finishes completely, his weight dropping down on me like a quilt made of sweaty man meat. But the cloud of euphoria is fast to dissipate. A sob tries to climb the inside of my throat, but I trap it. Examine it for meaning. I’ve never cried after sex before. Never even close.
Because it has never meant anything. Or I’ve never allowed myself to admit the times with Charlie were beginning to mean something, even as far back as when we started meeting. This time, there’s no pretending, though. My feelings for him have catapulted from questionable to stop fooling yourself, idiot. Which is why I’ve allowed this charade of friendship to continue past the point it was wise. And now, I’ll be the walking wounded when he bounces with a wink out my front door. Because he doesn’t want something meaningful with me. This is what he wants. Couch sex. Kitchen counter sex. Even venturing into my room is too personal for him.
As if he can sense the direction of my thoughts, Charlie’s head comes up and he’s scrutinizing me. Just a gorgeous, scruffy, baffled, beautiful boy. “What is it?”
His body is too welcome against mine. Too warm and solid. I have to get away before he takes himself away, leaving me feeling like his relief button. Swallowing nails, I scoot out from beneath him and stand, going in search of my dress. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Charlie stands, already giving me a warning look. “Ever.”
“I mean it.” I pull up my dress and tie it with shaking fingers. “Please, Charlie, I really need you to leave this time.”
“Not until you explain why you’re freaking out.” He looks down at the couch, his face the picture of male bafflement. “What happened between then and now?”
I gather my hair in a bun. Realizing I have no rubber band, I let it drop. Deep breaths. This isn’t like me. I don’t lose my cool and do postorgasm meltdowns. If I can just keep my thoughts from blowing around for one second, maybe I can make him understand. We owe each other understanding, don’t we? “I like you. I really do. But I don’t think we make good friends. Not right now.” I toe my panties, kick them up and shove the material into my pocket. Just for something to do with my hands. “We’re going to fall into the same pattern we were in before. If I let that happen, I’ll never focus on what I want.”
“What you want? Or what your mother wants?” While I reel, he finishes zipping his pants and takes a long breath. “Look, I’ve put some thought into this. If you want me to go with you to meet your mother, I will. You can call me your boyfriend and put her mind at ease. Whatever you want. I know it’s important not to let her down, and you don’t have to.”
My mouth and mind sputter in tandem. Oh wow. Oh, this is beyond. “Fake it? You’re asking me to fake having a boyfriend, instead of looking for the real thing? Why would I do that, Charlie? Why?” He doesn’t answer, his jaw stiff, but I can see he wants to take back the offer. He’s maybe even a little ashamed to have made it. “This is about what I want. Not just my mother.” I caved for his needs, even when I knew it was a bad idea, driving home how weak I am when it comes to Charlie. That weakness is only going to be exploited further if we keep seeing each other under the guise of friendship. I always thought the mistress gene ended with me, even though I was playing by the fundamentals. It’s inside me, though, to be the woman Charlie seeks out for relief, and he’s banking on it. Isn’t he? Did he ever want to be my friend in the first place? Or were we on a single lane highway leading to here? I don’t want to be the place where he comes to scratch an itch, then walk away scot free. I don’t want to be that for anyone anymore. “This isn’t only for my mother. I-I don’t like the feeling I get when you leave now. It’s not fun anymore.”
His face loses some color. “What feeling?”
“A used one.” The words catch in my throat, and when Charlie staggers back, like he’s been struck, it takes me a moment to gather my courage and continue. “Maybe we were using each other in the beginning, but the balance is off now. And it hurts.” I force my shoulders back. “So I’m asking you to leave. Stop texting, please. Stop calling and respect my decision.” How can I feel my heart racing when my chest seems empty? “I’m going to miss you, but I’d rather miss you than start to hate you.”
“Ever,” he breathes, his blue eyes tormented. “No. I can do better.”
Even now, I want to give him that chance, but I bite down on the temptation and shake my head. Secretly, I think I wanted more than friendship from Charlie this whole time, but I’m done waiting around for him to want it, too. Hell, I could be waiting forever. “Go, Charlie.”
He stares at me for torturous moments, looking haunted, but eventually he falls toward the door, opening it. Thinking he’s leaving and it’s safe to let my strength drain out, I sag against the counter, but Charlie stops at the last minute. He pulls out his cell phone and takes a picture of me, the click sounding unnatural in the silence, then goes.
Chapter 16
Charlie
Fuck, I’m hungover. Did someone use my head to play horseshoes last night? I am never attempting to match Jack shot for shot again. I’m going to die. I want to die. As soon as I left Ever’s apartment last night, I called Jack and met him at a bar. Shock of all shocks, he was already inside one in his old Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood. What time did we leave that dive? How did I get home? Why is “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac stuck in my head?
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