Chapter 11

 

What, in all the ultimate, holy shit climaxes had just happened?

Charlie whirled back to the sink and blinked at the disheveled, weak-kneed woman in the mirror. Had Xander seriously dropped an L-bomb on her?

She clamped a shaking hand over her mouth, the grip so tight her jaw bones rattled her ear drums. Okay, okay. Before she suffered some sort of psychotic—joygasmic—break, she needed to slow the hell down. Breathe.

Yes, she’d picked up on his signals. A visual of the two of them swaying in front of the mirror screamed into her head, and she slammed her knees together as her core pulsed, clenched. To miss the growing heat in his eyes every time she looked at the man, she’d have to be one of the walking dead.

But love? He was in love with her?

The warm friction caused by his fingers slipping up her inner thigh jolted through her body. The memory of his hard chest riding her back shot a thrill into her stomach, and moisture drenched her panties over the way he’d driven into her from behind.

Did the man even know what that meant? Screw that, did she?

Squeezing her eyes tight, she turned away from the mirror. Her entire life, only two other people had said those words to her, and one of them didn’t count. No mother expressed love for her child by consistently turning a blind eye to the kind of abuse Charlie had suffered as a kid. By vomiting a list of excuses that didn’t add up to shit against the wide-eyed innocence of a five-year-old nursing a dislocated shoulder. A broken wrist. A black eye.

Long before she’d witnessed the way Lydia doted on Mina and Ellis, Charlie had understood her mother’s love came at too high a price.

But Xander?

Her stomach vaulted and flipped as the past few days streamed past her eyelids like some made-for-TV romance. Everything he’d done since the second she’d spotted him on her doorstep showed how much he cared for her.

Always being right by her side unless he was positive she was safe. Picking up on her discomfort and reassuring her in front of everyone after that ridiculous snafu with Molly.

And Ellis. She placed her hand on her chest. Dear God, did the man have any clue how much his support meant to her? How he’d become the miracle she’d been praying for ever since she’d found out Ellis was sick?

Was that love? Her fingers curled into a fist, crumpling the collar of her dress. Was it?

If not, well then hell. Someone had better phone Webster’s and explain to her what was.

And like the greedy thief she’d always been, she craved more. More of Xander’s generous lips stimulating every part of her body. More of his talented hands stroking her to the best damn orgasm of her life. More of his words, telling her she was exactly what he’d wanted for ten long years.

Dammit. Slapping her palms to the sink, she stared down at the dry basin. Then cranked the tap and splashed some cold water on her face. Whatever worries she’d had about trampling past the boundaries of friendship, he’d just pulled the pin on a live grenade and blown those to smithereens. And she’d followed right along, hadn’t she? Regardless of the landmines buried in her path, she’d run at that barbed-wire topped fence with an AK-47 strapped to her back.

Booyah. There was no coming back from the nine-point-five magnitude earthquake she’d shuddered in his hands.

Ripping the hand towel off the stand on her left, she turned off the water and dried her face. Damn lucky letters on his laptop. They didn’t have the first clue the kind of explosion he could provoke by running his fingertips over the keys. One nibble of her throat, one whisper in her ear and she’d let him tap out whatever response he’d wanted.

But, seriously. Like, hands-down, swear-on-a-stack-of-Bibles seriously, how was she supposed to resist? From the top of his thick blond hair to the heels of his black, alligator loafers, Xander Dade was the complete package. Any woman in the known—shit, even the unknown—universe would be lucky to have him.

Peeking over the edge of the towel, she eyed her reflection in the glass. Wonderful. This was a fabulous look. Black mascara drippy around the edges. The back of her hair matted to a rat’s nest from schlepping up and down Xander’s broad shoulder. Dress hitched around her hips and underwear sagging in a full-out walk of shame.

But that was just it. She set the towel aside and stepped back from the sink to wriggle her panties back in place. She wasn’t ashamed. Not in the least. To act embarrassed or slap down a bunch of regret after the commitment Xander had displayed for her would be downright rude.

She couldn’t do that to him. The man was her best friend.

A quick shimmy to work her dress down her thighs, and she cleared the smudges from around her eyes before finger-combing her hair. Even after she’d stupidly blurted her worst fears, he’d stood up for her, told her the truth and made her listen regardless of whether or not the words would be difficult for her to hear.

Leaving the sink, she crossed the bathroom and flicked off the lights near the door. A short trip across Malcolm’s office, and she stooped down to gather one of her heels from where Xander had kicked it near the fireplace, then collected the other from the top of Malcolm’s desk.

Before he’d walked back into her life, the only person who’d ever defended her like that was her brother, Danny.

Swinging the door closed behind her, she left Malcolm’s office. He’d never hesitated to jump right in the mix whenever things got crazy. Always trying to protect her even though he was no more than a kid, himself. Consistently encouraging her to leave when they both knew damn well her disappearing would make things harder on him.

The only other love ya she’d ever gotten had been from Danny, and so what if he tugged her hair and knuckled a playful noogie over her scalp right after. She’d still believed him. If it hadn’t been for his insistence she get and stay lost, she never would’ve had the strength to follow through.

His sacrifice had saved her. In more ways than one. She harbored absolutely no doubts if she’d stayed in that house, she would’ve been six feet under by now. Or locked in a facility somewhere, unable to feed herself with a plastic spork.

Her foot hit the bottom riser of the front hallway stairs, and she froze.

Holy shit.

Fingers gripping the banister, she snapped her head up and stared at the empty landing to the second floor balcony.

How could she have been so dumb?

Pressure condensed in her chest. A rage so thick she could barely breathe as sadness and guilt boiled up from the pit of her stomach and washed through her body in a mushroom cloud of toxic waste.

Of all the ungrateful, self-absorbed excuses, what was she doing? She slapped her hand to her forehead, eyes squeezed tight. Xander had been right. About everything. A part of her was still locked in that house. And like a complete idiot, she’d let it stay there. At Danny’s expense. At her and Xander’s expense. Rotting away, day after day, despite how far or fast she’d run.

For the sweet love of God. Talk about taking her decisions for granted. The way she’d squandered her freedom made her sick.

Nice legacy she was leaving her brother. Too weak to look her insecurities in the face. To choose for herself who and what she was. Too bound up in the past when Danny had given up everything to make sure she never had to experience those hurts again.

Her shoulders fell, and she rolled her face toward the polished beams of the second floor ceiling. Too selfish… She tightened her jaw against a groan. Too damn afraid to let Xander love her when that was all her brother had ever wanted.

For her to have the chance at a good life. A fulfilling life.

A life he’d offered her only to have his stolen in return.

Goddamn it, no. White-knuckling the railing, she gritted her teeth. Xander offered her happiness and she hesitated? Got tied up in what ifs and borrowed trouble as if giving herself to the one man who’d always had her back was the wrong move?

He said he loved her. That he’d always loved her and he always would. Xander’s heart was the most precious, valuable commodity she could ever dream of owning and, when he presented it to her, she shoved it away?

Not. A. Chance.

Pushing off from the banister, she sprinted up the stairs, the weight of her hair bouncing against her back. Yes, there were risks. A ton of stuff she still hadn’t confessed. And yes, worst case scenario, once she did, the whole thing would fall apart and she’d never see him again. But she’d rather fry from now until the end of eternity than to look back on this moment and know she’d never even tried.

Tight fist swinging at her side, she hit the landing and marched straight down the hall for Xander’s bedroom door. The man was a gift. Her oldest and dearest friend.

Her protector. Confidante. The one person in the world who could still read her mind with a single glance. Twisting the knob, she shouldered the door and entered. And for as long as she could make it last, she was going to add lover to that list moving forward.

Three steps inside, and she stumbled to a stop into the middle of his room.

Empty.

Wait, empty? She spun a slow circle and her gaze landed on his discarded clothes, draped across the over-stuffed chair in the corner. The hiss of running water, an occasional splash hitting the tile, drew her attention to the closed bathroom door, and she propped her hand on her hip.

So. Xander had felt the need for a shower, huh? She smirked. And based on the state he’d been in when he’d left Malcolm’s office, she’d place bets that water was the temperature of an Arctic lake.

Dumping her shoes on the dresser, she padded across the carpet and pressed her ear against the wood. God, they’d been ecstatic. After months of doing their business in subway stations and the occasional construction site port-o-john, to find each room in the manor contained a private bath had made their cast of grubby stragglers want to bust out in the score from Annie.

Add in the new clothes, the regular meals and unlimited resources geared toward each kids’ area of expertise, and Daddy Warbucks had nothing on Malcolm Smith.

She cracked the door and then paused. By a gaping margin—like one that shrank the width of the Grand Canyon to a hair—a naked, wet Xander Dade topped her list of Things She Most Wanted to See.

Lips pursed, Charlie squinted. But stripping down to a freezing shower? Not so much. No matter how fast the temp got adjusted, she wouldn’t be able to return the favor. Two seconds in, and her nipples were liable to poke his eyes out.

She silently swung the door closed. Nope. That visual didn’t come anywhere close to making the grade for their first time together. If she was doing this, then she was doing it right.

Striding for the bed, she stripped, discarding her clothes like a trail of bread crumbs along the floor. Every inch of her torso sent up a praise Jesus, hallelujah as she peeled off her girdle, shoving her nylons down and kicking the confining lycra spandex off her feet.

Naked and trembling, she tore the comforter away from the headboard and climbed between the sheets.

The inviting texture of crisp, cream Egyptian cotton cooled her shoulder blades as she reclined against the pillows, folding the blankets and tucking them around her boobs.

The water shut off and nerves jabbed her stomach as she quickly parted her hair and swung each side over her shoulders.

Okay. She settled in. One leg bent with her hands laced behind her head? No, too casual. Why not just turn on the TV and flip around until she found a football game?

Hand on her hip as she lay on her side? Nah, too campy porn star. Xander would probably end up searching the room for a hidden video camera.

The bathroom door swung open, and she tensed like a board, clamping her hands on her stomach.

He stepped over the threshold, his hair a tousled mess as if he’d tried to scrub the follicles right off his head, the thick five o’clock shadow framing his mouth a subtle shade darker. Without a shirt, his corded neck was a testament to all things American Ninja Warrior, book-ended by two dense mounds that sloped toward his wide shoulders.

But what really revved her motor were the glistening droplets that ran down the cut ridges of his pecs, the defined dip of each tendon encasing his ribcage, all damp and clean and trickling toward a white towel he’d cinched around the dense vee of muscle bunched along his hips.

Good God. She slurped her tongue off the floor. This was the man who’d just said he loved her. She blinked. This was him.

He jerked to a stop as their eyes met across the room, and even from that distance, it would’ve been hard to miss the way his pupils dilated so fast they nearly swallowed his irises whole. The front of his towel tented, and she rolled her lips to hide a smile as he dragged a long, slow perusal down the blankets, back up her legs and chest to her face.

“Are you naked in my bed?” Holy hotness wrapped in white terrycloth, his voice. Rough. Low. Laced with something raw and carnal she’d never heard from him before.

And how awesome was that? She internally wagged her brows. Talk about a confidence booster. Apparently, his cold shower had been a horrible waste of good water. “I thought about what you said.”

His brow twitched. And something about the razor-sharp awareness in his gaze—or the blatant, ravenous hunger—made her nipples peak and bead against the sheet. “That was fast.”

“I’m quick on the uptake.” She dipped her chin. “And you did an excellent job of convincing me to hurry up and decide.”

He squinted. “And?”

Um, and what? Her pulse spiked and about a billion butterflies cart-wheeled through her stomach as he crossed to the chair and ransacked his pants for his wallet. He pulled a condom from one of the slots, glanced at her with those blown irises and pulled out two more.

Oh, dear God. Forget butterflies.

A shiver tightened her body. Her sex clenched, and she rubbed her thighs together as a delicious ache blossomed in her core. The flutters in her belly were more the size of hummingbirds. A flight of frickin’ doves.

“What did you decide, Chuck?” The towel split over his left thigh as he prowled toward the bed. A raised vein popped along the swell of his bicep as he tossed the condoms onto the nightstand.

But at least the draft from all the pivoting and twirling had blown off any confusion about what he needed her to say. “I’ve decided to free myself, Xander.”

And the best part? It was the amazing, generous, intelligent man standing before her who’d shown her how to do that. “I’m never going back inside that house again.”

Reaching up, she released the tuck near his hip and his cock sprang forward at the same speed the towel dropped to his feet.

Jackpot.

She eased a slow breath through her lips. Wow. She’d always assumed the rest of him would be proportionate to his height but, hot damn. Wide base. A gentle arc. Jutting into the air so stiff and long the engorged head nearly grazed the line of dark-blond hair below his belly button.

“Been a while since you’ve seen one?”

Heat crept into her cheeks, and she huffed, peeking at him through her lashes. “Sorry. And yes.” Almost a year, if they were counting. Good news was, for however long he had it in his head they were doing this, she’d just learned a valuable lesson about ignoring whatever God-given gifts came her way.

She skimmed the side with her fingertips—rock hard, flexing and pulsing at her touch.

A muscle jumped in his thigh, and Xander hissed. “Shit, your hands are warm.”

Really? Then wait until he got a load of this.

Cinching him in her palm, she inched forward and circled the swollen rim with a swirl of her tongue. He groaned, shoving his hand into her hair. Her internal muscles clamped down hard, begging to be stretched and filled as she ran the tip around her lips and fed him into her mouth.

The mixture of his salty skin, a hint of amber and pure, red-blooded male exploded across her taste buds as she cradled him on her tongue. She worked a swallow and he fisted his fingers. A shudder wracked his body, and she hummed.

God, he tasted good.

“Jesus, woman.” He eased back and she spread the moisture with her index finger and thumb, giving him a slippery ride as he pumped into her hand. “You are not making this easy.”

Like he could talk. “Remember fifteen minutes ago in the bathroom?” She ran her palm up his inner thigh, cupping and massaging his balls. “Payback’s a bitch.”

“God. Fuck.” He tossed his head back as she squeezed down to the wiry hair at his base. A clear drop beaded at the slit, and she flicked her tongue to catch it, pressing it to the roof of her mouth so his musky flavor would stay ingrained on her senses.

Tugging her hair, he tipped her chin up. A breath snagged in her throat as he brought lips close enough she could’ve counted every thick eyelash lining his lids. “I want you coming so hard around me, you forget your name.”

Oh, shit. Her folds grew slick. Her thighs shook, and she squirmed against the mattress, gyrating her hips.

His other hand curled around her throat, fingertips kneading the back of her neck. “I want to be buried so deep inside you, there’s no room left. But I’m coming in hot, beautiful. Not sure I can guarantee you’ll—”

“I will.” She stopped that nonsense, placing her finger against his mouth.

His jaw firmed, and something she couldn’t quite name sparkled in his eyes. Relief, maybe? Hell, adoration? But it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about.

A growl grated through his chest as she dragged her nail across his bottom lip. God, didn’t he know? Didn’t the man get how all he had to do was enter the room and seduce her with a few choice words and she was teetering near the brink yet again? “Trust me when I say no guarantees necessary. You can do whatever you want to me, Xander. I won’t break.”

He nipped her fingertip with his teeth. “Do you have any idea what kind of perverted images just hit my brain?”

“No.” Arching a brow, she plucked one of the condoms off the nightstand and held it before his eyes. “I guess you’ll just have to show me.”

In one deft move, he swiped her hand out of the way with his chin and his mouth capsized over hers, tumbling them back to the bed with the same force his hand pushed her shoulder.

God, his heat. Filled with his fresh, clean scent and seeping into her skin through the blankets. She wound her arms around his shoulders, threaded her fingers in his hair. The comforting weight of his chest and hips pinning her to the mattress were better than any home she’d ever known.

Two seconds in, and the man was everywhere. A blissful sensory overload as his tongue drove past her lips, fingers clasping her chin and his forearm braced beside her ear.

She sighed, opening wide for him as he angled her head for better access. Matching each hungry stroke, she raked her nails down his back. His chest-vibrating groan filled her mouth as she spread her thighs and he sank between her legs.

He inched back and plowed against her, pushing her higher up the pillows. Hard. She bit her bottom lip, writhing as he rocked into her. Every inch of him was so damn hard.

His second driving thrust and sparks detonated up her inner thighs. She squirmed, bucking her hips as he eased off.

“Not enough.” The bed dipped near her thigh as he kneed the mattress. Muscle flexed under her palms, and he shoved with his arms, towering over her as he tore the blankets away from her body.

The cool air pebbled her skin, chased by a full-body flush as his hooded gaze scorched her from collarbone to the mound of damp curls between her thighs.

“I must’ve imagined what you’d look like naked underneath me every day since we met.” He fisted his erection and she slapped her hand over the penetrating throb that nudged her higher. “But I didn’t even come close.” Stroking up, he urged her legs wider with a press of his knees. “Move your hand. I want to see how wet you are.”

A deep tremor rippled, and she tossed her head back, fingers curling against the building surge. Dammit, he had her wound so tight, she was about to get off and he hadn’t even been inside her.

Fumbling with the foil on the condom, she ripped open the packet and dotted the disc on her tongue. But she wanted him with her. For them to climax together their first time.

Another pump of his hand, and he shuddered, chest lifting as he pulled a slow, measured breath. “Woman, you are downright evil.”

And this was a shocker? Maybe the man should take another glance at her résumé. She fitted the condom between her lips and the front of her teeth. God knew, there were plenty of words to describe her skill set, but innocent wasn’t one of them.

His thighs tensed as she slid her palms up either side, gripped his tight ass and pulled to sitting. Squeezing his eyes shut, he muttered a string of obscenities as she sucked him past her lips, using her teeth to gently work the condom over the rim of his shaft.

A furious rub of her tongue, and he seized her hand, fingers seated between hers, directing each glide as she eased the latex down until he was fully gloved.

He fell forward and her head landed on the pillows with a feather-dampening bounce. Bracing one of his hands over her left shoulder, he dragged a slow ride through her folds and every muscle in her body contracted. A stimulating circle of her clit with the bulbous tip, and she arched off the mattress to increase the pressure.

Arousal slammed into her limbs, and she rolled her face side to side, fisting the sheets as he painstakingly guided himself down to her entrance and then stopped.

“Xander…” She panted, thighs tense, holding tight against the urgency to push against him so he could ease the non-stop ache. “Please. God, don’t stop.”

He snaked one arm under her hips. Their stomachs met and pleasure-pain unfurled with each beat of her heart.

Sinking inch by hard inch, he kissed and nipped her lips, the line of her chin and throat as he gradually lowered them to the bed.

“Don’t ever beg me for anything.” His mouth brushed her ear, a soft caress in direct contrast to the way he stretched and filled her. “Whatever you need from me, the answer will always be yes.”

The man was too much. Her internal muscles throbbed as he ground against her, swiveling his hips. Catching her hands, he laced their fingers together and brought them over her head.

Her breath caught as he eased back and rammed home, hitting the high sweet spot that sharpened her need and made her body soar.

With his second driving thrust, she wriggled along his length. A whimper eked from her throat as he held steady, his lips coaxing and teasing, tongue flicking as he swayed, brushing that same sweet spot inside her again and again.

Tremors ricocheted low in her belly, and he twitched. His moan heated her neck, and he forced himself deeper, adding the perfect pressure to her clit.

She bowed into him and his fingers tightened in hers. He cursed and slid back, pumping into her, over and over as he rode her toward the edge. Pleasure coalesced, and she convulsed beneath him as he growled her name, pulsing inside her.

Tiny sparks flooded her arms and legs as he withdrew and slammed them back together, drawing out her orgasm until he pulsed again and she was pitched headfirst into another wave of ecstasy.

His body went limp on top of hers, and she smacked her hand to her forehead, trying to catch her breath under his dead weight. “Holy crap. That was awesome.”

His laugh was muffled, face-planted against the pillows. He turned his head, and she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “God, woman, you’re sexy. And warm. And so fucking soft.”

Pushing up on one elbow, he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth and ran his fingertip across her collarbone, over the dip at the base of her throat to the other side. She shivered and he grinned, shifting to the side so he could trail that same naughty finger down to her nipple and sweep a light circle until the tip beaded to a stiff point.

He licked his lips and a groan rolled up from her stomach as any extra room inside her disappeared.

No way. The guy wasn’t human and there was simply no way.

Mouth parted, he leaned toward her breast.

“Are you serious?” She blocked his maneuver, wedging the heel of her palm against his forehead. “A double-header?”

He met her eyes past her wrist. Shoved with his hips. “That feel serious to you?”

“Oh, dear God.” Delicate, inviting aftershocks trickled into her thighs, and she tossed her hand to the bed with a lifeless thump. “I’ve created a monster.”

His husky chuckle was wicked. The glint in his gaze, pure sin. “And I hate to break it to ya, but we’re shooting for a triple-play.”

Ya-a-ay. Way to stick the baseball analogy.

The teasing rasp of his beard swept her skin as he latched onto her nipple, drawing her deep into his mouth. Her spine rose off the bed, and any arguments she might’ve thought to offer joined hands and skipped right out of her head.

But it was the dark possession in his eyes that made her the drunkest with pleasure. The way his gaze filled with heat as he rose to his knees between her legs, tossed the used condom in the bedside trash and strapped a fresh one in place.

“That first time was for me.” Grabbing her hips, he shoved with both hands and slid her higher up the bed. “This time, it’s all you.”

Uh-oh. He dropped to his elbows between her thighs. She was doomed.

The flat stroke of his warm tongue, and her world stopped spinning. Every touch, every caress of his lips and fingers stayed centered on her, as if he wanted all his attention focused on her responses. So he could learn the best way of urging her from a state of sated gratification to a hard-riding need.

Parted mouth floating up her inner thigh, he nipped that tender stretch of skin as she writhed and twisted, her hands buried in his hair to tug and fist the strands. The dart and jab of his tongue, his murmurs of encouragement washed her in waves, until any hesitation was stripped from her body and she seized his shoulders, flipping him onto his back.

His groan vibrated into her core, rippling outward as she inched down his length. Head back, she braced her hands on his stomach and breathed against the penetrating fit, the pleasing stretch pulsing through her sex and thighs.

His fingers dug into her ass, and another moan left his body, sliding into hers as he moved, setting the rhythm, urging her harder and faster until his hips rose off the bed.

Flutters built, and he thrust deep, lifting her to her knees. He swore and thumbed her clit, pressing higher as he rotated beneath her. A full-body throb triggered her climax, and she spasmed at the same time he pulsed, his orgasm jetting and heating. His name leaving her lips through a shuddering release.

Rocking, shaking and weak, she collapsed onto his chest, fighting to catch her breath as he lowered them to the bed. At this rate, they’d end up hospitalized with dehydration.

Or rather, she would. Sex machines like Xander probably just hit the nearest service station for a replacement battery.

His hand met her back, fingers combing out the tangles in her hair, and she closed her eyes as his heartbeat slowed to a steady, soothing rhythm in her ear.

Rest. For just a little while. She shimmied off of him and tipped to the side, but as soon as he removed the condom, he shoved her right back on top, arms wrapped around her shoulders and his legs tangled through hers.

Fine, she’d stay. But she still needed an hour, maybe two, before he managed the impossible and got her wound up for round three.

“Tell me you’re beautiful.”

Her heart lurched, but she kept her eyes closed, waiting for the erratic rhythm to subside. “Sh-h-h… Some of us human beings occasionally need this thing called sleep.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You seem to be keeping up fine.”

She smiled as a quiet moment passed. His hand met the back of her head, holding her in place as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “It’s only two words, Chuck. Lie to me if you have to.”

The mere thought made her want to weep. All the half-truths between them. The lies of omission and things she’d left unsaid.

Lifting her cheek, she propped her chin on the back of her hand. His sea-green eyes were filled with tenderness, contentment and, hell yeah, even love.

But there was a difference between shutting down the horrible names that had plagued her since forever, and stating she was anything different than the plain old Charlie she’d always been. “How about…you make me feel beautiful.”

And the really cool thing? He smiled as she ran her fingertip over the curve of his full bottom lip.

Damned if it wasn’t true.