Twenty-five

Devlin

 

She looks like an angel.

I’d woken a short time ago to find Charli still asleep, and since then, I’ve been enjoying the sight. Her long, blonde hair is soft and shiny against the darkness of the bedsheets. She’s on her back, one arm flung up over her head as her bare breasts peek out just above where the sheet is resting on her body. The tips are pale pink and relaxed.

My eyes roam over the globes before sliding back up to her face. She has the most amazing creamy skin. It’s flawless. Her lashes lie on the curve of her cheeks, and her lips are slightly parted as she slowly breathes in and out.

I’ve been lying on my side, head propped on my hand, staring at her. My dick was hard when I’d woken, and it’s still painfully engorged, but I refuse to do anything about it. First, if I leave to go jack off, I’m afraid she might be awake when I come back. For now, I’m just enjoying the moment before reality can creep back up on us. Secondly, after taking her virginity last night, she’s likely sore, and the last thing I’m going to do is make a move on her as soon as she wakes. My dick will survive without.

The memory of how tight she’d felt around me does nothing to ease the ache. Fuck. I’ve never felt anything so damn intense in my life, and I know last night could never be called just sex. I loved her body with everything that I am. I think I’m now beginning to understand the concept of ‘making love’ versus ‘fucking.’

Charli’s mine in every way possible. She can continue running all she wants, but I’ll still be here when she decides she’s ready.

She’s beginning to stir, and I watch as her eyelashes flutter a few times before her body shifts. Her lashes sweep upwards. When she sees me peering down at her, she blinks a few times before an adorable hint of red creeps up her cheeks.

I grin. “Morning.”

A crinkle appears between her delicate eyebrows, and I watch as emotion flickers in her gaze. She’s remembering the fire last night, and then everything that had happened between us. Much to my relief, her eyes soften. There’s no hint of regret.

She needs more from me, though. I know she does. Just as I need her to let me in further. She’ll never fully open to me if I don’t give her a reason to. The idea of laying myself out bare, my fucking heart on my sleeve, leaves a bitter taste of uncertainty in my mouth. However, if I’m ever going to change Charli’s mind about me, I need to swallow my pride.

“I used to think I was unlovable,” I say slowly, giving her time to focus on my speaking.

She blinks, and her eyes search mine.

With my free hand, I reach over and tenderly brush a strand of hair away from her shoulder. “I never knew love. I already told you that I had a long slew of nannies, and my father never showed much interest in me until I began to reach my teens. Everything I was taught had nothing to do with embracing emotion, and instead, it was all about suppressing it.” I drop my eyes and focus on her neck, watching the delicate pulse in her throat. “I was aware of the concept of love, thanks in part to the movies that I’d manage to sneak in when no one was around. But I didn’t understand it. When I became aware of how different my upbringing was to the average American, a part of me yearned for it.” My eyes lift back to hers, and she’s watching my face avidly. “I thought I was unlovable. Maybe that was why my nannies never cared, or why my father never said anything positive to me. I grew up thinking there was something about me that made people incapable of caring, but when I grew into adulthood, I realized it was more than that. A person can’t care about someone unless they’re let in, and I was taught to remain closed-off, to never allow anyone close emotionally. The idea of letting someone get that close and then experiencing the kind of rejection my father dealt me time and time again made me hate the idea of connecting with anyone—especially a woman. No one’s touched me here,” I say, touching my chest, “until you entered my life.”

The expression on her face is one of compassion. There’s no hint of pity, just an understanding that she knows how hard it is for me to speak of my childhood—to confess my vulnerability to her. It’s the earnest compassion that urges me to continue.

“We have something that I don’t want to ignore any further. I’ll wait for you if that’s what you want, but I can’t not acknowledge what I’m feeling. I don’t want to be the man I was before I met you, I want to be the one that I’ve become since you entered my life.” I hold her gaze and say, “If there’s anything I can do to make you comfortable with what I do, I’ll do it,” I say steadily. “I can’t walk away fully, that would be a death sentence. This life, it’s mine whether I want it or not. I was born into it, and the only way out of it is death. However, I control how the organization works, and I can make adjustments. For you, I would do what needs to be done to keep you in my life—if you want to be with me, Charli.”

She’s silent as she stares at me, and I wait with bated breath as she visibly pulls together her thoughts. Emotions swirl in her eyes, and she bites her lip before she shifts and begins to sit up. She draws the sheet to her breasts, and her brow crinkles.

I sit up as well, but I remain silent, waiting to see how she’ll respond. I tell myself that if she’s still choosing to walk away, I’ll need to respect her decision and try to understand it from her perspective instead of focusing on the rejection.

That’s when it dawns on me that she doesn’t have her phone. I frown and look around the bedroom, trying to recall where I’d left my cell. I think it’s in the bathroom.

I turn back to her, and she looks at me, expecting me to say something. “I’ll go grab my phone,” I tell her.

Quick as lightening, her small hand darts out and grabs my forearm, stopping me from going anywhere. “No,” she says softly.

The sound of her voice has me stilling, and something in my chest builds.

She hesitates and says, “I can speak. It…just might be…stilted. It’s been a while,” she says carefully in a lilting monotone voice that is choppy and yet throaty. Yes, she sounds different, but it’s a tone that I am immediately enamored with.

I can’t prevent the grin that spreads across my face. “You have a beautiful voice, Charli.”

Her nose wrinkles.

“You don’t think so?” I question.

She shrugs a bare shoulder. “The other kids…they would pick on me. I quit using my voice because it was easier. I’ve been…practicing with Keagan. It’s easier to sign than try to recall the correct…articulations. Then there’s the volume…and when to pause. It’s difficult. My own fault, though. I should have…kept at it instead of folding beneath their taunts,” she says slowly, careful to pronounce the best that she can.

“Screw the other kids. Our generation today is terrible when it pertains to anyone being different.” I touch her chin, tilting her face upwards so I can peer into her gaze. “I love different,” I say without hesitation.

Her green eyes widen.

Shit. Did I just tell her I love her? The idea throws me, and suddenly, I feel strange and uncertain. My initial reaction is to move away from her and try to sort out what I’d just blurted. Charli, though, as intuitive as she is, frames my face with her soft hands before I can put the physical distance between us.

She moves closer, her eyes burning into mine. “Stop the…trafficking,” she says simply. She doesn’t comment on what I’d blurted, and I relax as I focus on what she’d just said.

“Stop the trafficking?” I echo.

She nods, her eyes earnest as they look into mine intently. “Drugs are everywhere. I don’t…like it, but if you don’t sell them, someone else will. Taking people from their lives, I can’t…accept that. Stop, and I will give us a chance,” she says softly.

Holy fuck. Stop the trafficking and Charli will stay in my life? “Done,” I say swiftly.

She blinks, and her forehead creases. “Really?”

I turn my face into her left hand that’s still cradling my cheek, and I press a soft kiss to the center of her palm. “Just like that,” I confirm. “I promise,” I add, not wanting her to doubt me.

She hesitates. “It’s that easy?”

“I’m the boss,” I remind.

A look of awe spreads across her beautiful features. “Okay.”

“We have a lot to sort out,” I say, referring to the fact that she’s back to being homeless.

Her face immediately crumples, and she looks saddened. “It’s…all gone.”

I nod in confirmation. “It is, but thankfully it’s just things.”

She looks oddly lost. “I know but…”

“You worked hard for those things. They were yours,” I state, getting an inkling of how she’s feeling.

She nods in agreement.

“Why don’t we go make breakfast, and afterwards, we’ll discuss where your head’s at and how you want to move forward,” I suggest.