Chapter Two
“Wait! Where are you going?”
Bastian’s shout followed her as she fled the campfire. Damp air chilled her legs. Grasses snipped at her ankles with jagged pokes, and she delved deeper into the campground.
Escape.
How could he? How could he shred everything they were? She’d just told him how special he was to her, him and his friendship. How she was free to be herself with him, no pretenses needed. Now it was gone. Because he wanted her. Sex changed everything. No one knew it better than she did.
A hidden tree root halted her flight and she stumbled to a crouch next to the stump. A harsh sob tore from her. Using the sleeves of his shirt, she wiped her wet face. She’d lost her best friend, the other half of herself, and pain gnawed at her bones. He was gone. The person she turned to when life sucked. The person she sought out when she wanted to laugh. The person she was most safe around. The person she loved.
The man back beside the fire was just like the rest of his gender. He wanted her. Not for her, but for what she could bring him. Pleasure.
He said he loved her but he just meant he lusted for her. That was what it always meant. She’d heard those words many times. They never meant anything but “come to bed.” Bastian was supposed to be different, always had been. Everything sacred now felt like a lie. The one lone brick became a fortress around her fragile heart.
Adam’s betrayal had glanced off her but Bastian’s destroyed her.
Shaky limbs stilled as resolve flooded her. Their bond was broken, forever lost to one glorious illicit kiss. He wanted more. More meant sex. Fine. If he valued their connection so little he was willing to throw it away for a quick fuck, she’d give him exactly what he wanted.
Then she would walk away. But she’d be damned if she was going without tasting every bit of what she’d denied herself all these years.
Charlie drew a deep breath, let her heart whisper goodbye, and fixed her face into a bitch-blank slate. He didn’t deserve to know how badly she hurt. Pain was solitary, never shared with anyone but her best friend. He wasn’t that. Not anymore. He’d be nothing more than a one-night stand. Later she would weep for the crushing loss. Alone.
The trek back to the tent was as short as her escape and just as determined. Bastian sat on the ground, lower back against the log, head bowed into one hand. Without stopping her stride, Charlie ripped his sweatshirt over her head, taking her knit top with it. Both dropped into the dirt. There was barely time to register the surprise on his face before she straddled his lap and claimed his mouth.
Hands diving into his hair, she thrust her tongue between his lips. For one moment, he didn’t move. She circled her hips, pressing into his zipper, and slid her scantily clad breasts across his chest.
Respond, damn it.
He took his first sip of her angry passion. Victory heated her blood. Men were so predictable. She tangled one hand in his hair and slid the other down his nape and across his back. When he answered her motions with a low moan, his hands curling around her waist and hips arching to her, she whispered into his kiss.
“You want me, Bastian? Then take me.”
He crushed her to him, his mouth devouring hers. Electric shocks lasered up her spine. At least it would be good. The realization was of little comfort. His hands tugged her harder to his growing erection, and she added a wiggle to her circles. Rage flashed. He hadn’t been lying. He wanted her badly. He’d only get her body.
The soft snap of her bra unhooking under strong male fingers was covered by his staggered breath as his lips found a pulse point below her jaw. He forged a line down her throat, his tongue lapping at her skin. She tossed her bra away seconds before his hands cupped her breasts. Her traitorous skin tingled at his touch.
Hidden memories poured over her. How many times had she fantasized about this? Her imagination had been insipid. Her nipples hardened in his palms as the mounds swelled for him, longing for his mouth. His kiss sank lower to the valley above her heart. Using her knees, she arched to him, pressing closer to his mouth before rocking on his strained zipper.
The sweet sound of her name was whispered in a voice darker than chocolate, and she fought the livid burn of tears. At least it was her and not some nameless body he thought of. She’d hear him scream her name before the night was through. But no way in hell would she say his. For spite, she might scream “Adam.” That should fuck with Bastian’s head and drive a painful spike into that precious male ego.
Charlie hid a sniffle in the brush of cotton as she ripped the T-shirt over his head and caught his mouth again. She was going to give him a ride he’d never forget, one that would leave him lusting for more and fantasizing about this night for years. Years he’d spend without her. Now hard as stone, his cock prodded against her center. Each nip down his throat was just sharp enough to inflame but not to mark. She tasted his collarbone with a broad sweep of her tongue and eased her hips down his legs.
Buried in her hair, his hands shook with lust, but she didn’t slow her downward trek. The thinnest sprinkling of burnished gold peppered the center of his heaving chest before tapering to his navel. Her mouth followed that path, each inch feeling the swirl of her tongue. Taut stomach muscles quivered as she drew near the button of his shorts. Her hands skimmed up his thighs under the hem. Her nails lightly scored his inner thighs before rising to rasp over khaki. She traced the shape of his erection, smoothing her fingertips around hardened contours that leaped at her touch. Her teeth scraped his flesh above the metal button.
Her back hit the ground, erasing all thought as Bastian’s mouth took hers. Between her widespread knees, his legs balanced as he ground against her. Missionary, of course, his favorite, with him in control…or so he thinks. She linked her ankles behind his ass, her hips rising to meet his. He was beyond hard. He was throbbing. It wouldn’t take long. He was too close. She raked her nails down his bare back. His awed hiss spiked her fury and she bowed into him, her tongue diving into his mouth.
Jerking her hand from his back, Charlie thrust it between their bodies. His shorts button snapped and the metal zipper zinged. Solid, hard flesh filled her palm and he froze, his agonized sigh of delight hot against her lips. His head fell back when her grip tightened. She curled her fingers around his shaft, and her lips twisted with battled tears. She swallowed her grief. The hollow below his Adam’s apple called her mouth and she licked out, gliding across his skin.
So easy, it was so easy. The death of something priceless should be harder to achieve.
Charlie was killing him. Bastian fought for control as her fingers curved around his cock and stroked long, maddening strokes. Every inch of his skin burned with desire. She was sweeter than the marshmallows, richer than the chocolate, more intoxicating than the beer. His fantasies had never been this enticing, this compelling. Too many months of wanting had built up until her touch scorched him.
He had to be dreaming.
This couldn’t really be happening.
It was going to happen too soon if she didn’t stop.
The Herculean effort to peel her hands from his pants and her lips from his neck forced his eyes open. Her frantic mouth on his shuttered them again. He needed to taste her. Sliding down her body, he took a pebbled crest in his mouth. Her spine curved. Slender fingers shot through his hair, holding him closer as he circled the tight nipple with his tongue.
More, he wanted more. He pulled one hand above her head, rounding her breast firmer into his mouth. His nails scraped the dirt as he gripped her hand.
Dirt.
They were in the dirt.
He was taking Charlie in the dirt.
No.
The roar of frustration that formed as he yanked his lips from her breast died when he saw her eyes. The unshed tears shattered him. Charlie was furious…and wounded. Shame cooled him like a waterfall, cracking his voice.
“Charlie.”
She surged up and took his mouth again. Torture would have been easier than halting her kiss but nowhere near as painful. She was going through the motions with absolute detached expertise. This was not what he wanted.
“Charlie, no.”
He vaulted from her, his lungs burning with great gulps of oxygen. He couldn’t look at her, naked from the waist up, her taste still in his mouth. He turned away. How had the night gone so wrong?
He jumped when her hands smoothed around his waist. Hard nipples, still damp from his tongue, skimmed his back and he stepped away from her. “Don’t touch me a minute. Stay there, please.”
The rampant longing in his voice shocked him. Lust-crazed was a sensation he associated with adolescents, not himself. He’d needed before, hungered, thought he’d explode, but never had he experienced this complete red haze of physical want. He ached for her. Good God, he ached. The dull pain would not dissipate. Crossing to the cooler, he fished out a frosty bottle.
Droplets splashed his stomach. The water seared his heated skin. In a frenzied flash, he held the icy glass to his gaping fly. Pain lurched through his groin and he gasped. It helped. Some.
“You’re going to get frostbite and I have plans for that body part.”
The chill in her tone rivaled the beer. Charlie made no move to cover herself, allowing the dying firelight to dance over her breasts. Swollen from his kisses, her lips were lush and full but held in a firm line. Bastian recognized the tilt to her head, the slant of her brow, the thrust of her jaw. She was primed for a marathon bitch session and he was about to be her bitch.
“Put your shirt on. Give me a minute. We need to talk and not with you half-naked.”
“You like me half-naked, I can see that. God knows I felt it.”
“Put a shirt on, damn it!”
“I’m wearing as much as you are,” she challenged.
The bottle had given as much aid as it was going to and he dragged his zipper up with no small amount of effort. Stalling for time, he popped the cap from the bottle and swallowed a long drink before facing her. Did she know how beautiful she was when angry?
If you want to look, then look your fill.
Nudity had never bothered Charlie, but they’d always maintained a respectful distance when dressing. Now she flaunted what he’d tasted and still craved. He circled the fire, set the bottle on the log and grabbed his shirt. Her bra lay beneath it but he ignored it. She glared at him, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of her shorts, as he pulled the cotton tee over his head. He retrieved his sweatshirt, her top still inside, and handed it to her. The force she used jerking the clothes from his fingers stunned him, but she made no move to cover herself.
Pain sliced through her gaze and his heart stuttered. His greatest fear was coming true. He was losing her. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck.”
“Too bad. No fuck is worth losing you. Tell me what did I wrong. Was it saying I love you? Or was it that I want more than your friendship?”
“You can have anything you want. But the friendship’s gone.”
“Why? I’m still the same man I was an hour ago. What I’m feeling is the same, you just know about it now.”
“And it changes everything!” she screamed at him, tears slipping over her cheeks. Those crystal drops stabbed him. Charlie was hurt enough to cry and mad enough to let him see it.
“Why? I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. If anything, it should make us stronger together. Friendship doesn’t die because we move forward. It should just get better, deeper.”
A light crackled in her eyes, the fiery flash of Bitch. He hadn’t seen it often directed at him but he recognized it. A man rarely forgot that scathing burn. But with Charlie, Bitch was often tinged with Whore, and she reached for the sexual bravado of her Honeypot persona.
“I’d like to get you deeper. But you have to drop your pants for that.”
“I won’t say I’m sorry. But what just happened was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened like that. It was too fast, too soon.”
“Did you hear me complaining? I started it, remember? I wanted it. I still do.”
Treacherous thoughts sprang to his mind. He wanted her so much. She’d yet to cover her breasts, and his hands longed to cup them again. “I told you I didn’t want a one-night stand. Jumping from friend to lover in ten minutes muddles things.”
“I have no problem with it.”
Her denial was so blatant, so forced, it pissed him off. “Bullshit. You can’t tell me you can go from being my best friend to screwing me in minutes and it not matter.”
“It’s not so hard.” Hard as gemstones, her vivid eyes fired wrath toward him. “All I have to do is close my eyes and spread my legs.”
“Stop it. Remember who you’re talking to. I know you. When you get crude, it’s because you’re hurting and lashing out.”
“And I know you.” Spat through quivering lips, her words dug at his heart. “You don’t say what you don’t mean. You want me in your bed like every other man I’ve ever known. You’re like all the rest. So let’s do it and move on.”
Clarity shocked his system. Charlie thought he only wanted her body. The insult stung. Did she really think he was that cold? Didn’t she know him better than that?
“Is that all you heard, that I want you in my bed? I love you, damn it. I am in love with you. I want you in my life forever. I want to marry you!”
Her face paled and her eyes rounded. The anger fizzled away, perplexity dazing her expression. He hadn’t meant to announce it like that but he meant it. There was no other woman for him. In forcing his secret into the open, Charlie had brought everything into focus.
Face slack with shock, her kissed-red lips and huge blue eyes strengthened her resemblance to Betty Boop. Bastian smiled. The cartoon It-Girl of long ago couldn’t hold a candle to his Charlie. A chilled breath of wind lifted the dark strands of her short hair, and she shivered. Her questioning eyes never left his.
Finally, she clutched the sweatshirt over her breasts with shaky hands. “Did you just propose?”
His chest heaved as his heart thundered. “No. But I am now. I love you, Charlie. Marry me?”
“No. Of course not.” She dropped the clothing. She bent and fumbled, jerking her head through his sweatshirt with a stunning speed. Her pink top still heaped at her feet went unnoticed as she rose and gaped at him. “Why would you ask me that? I told you I wasn’t the long-term type. You can’t want two divorces under your belt. Find some flighty little nurse to settle down with if you’re so gung-ho to get remarried.”
“I want to marry you. You’re the woman I love.”
“No, I’m not. I mean, yeah, maybe you love me as a friend but not like that. You can’t.” She stalked back to the fire’s glow. Perched on the edge of the log, she shoved her bra in the front pocket of the sweatshirt. She buried her hands under her thighs, rocking back and forth. Her knees met and her ankles turned out.
His chest clogged at the forlorn image. Years of unlayering her one piece at a time had given him insights even she didn’t know about. She was in emotional overload and shutting down. He knew only one way to reach her when she got like this. All he wanted to do at this minute was hold her, tell her everything would be okay. Charlie would deck him if he tried.
He knelt before her and eased her hand from under her leg. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Easy, go easy. “What flavor would I be right now?”
Her eyes shot to his before turning away. Her slender throat rippled as she swallowed. The slight wind grabbed at her words but he heard them.
“Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch with whipped cream, chocolate chips and fudge sauce…a whole pint.”
Bastian closed his eyes. No man had ever rated higher than Oreo Cookies and Cream. He turned her chin back to him. The kiss he gave her was light, sweet and filled with reassurance.
“Go out with me.”
A soft snort burst from her. “What? Like on a date? Like nervous teenagers stammering on the phone and passing notes in study hall? Like holding hands and wondering if you’ll get a good-night kiss?”
God, every word she said sounds perfect. That’s exactly what I want. I want to give her innocence and tenderness.
“Yeah. Date me. For lack of a proper adult term, be my girlfriend until you’re comfortable with the idea of being my wife.”
Confusion dimmed as her smile lifted her lips. “You date someone to get to know them. We know each other…pretty intimately now. What would dating accomplish?”
“It would give you time to get used to the idea of that type of permanence with me. Allow you to see me not as your best friend but as a man. It would give us the right to do this.” His lips caressed hers. “And this.” He kissed her cheek. “And this.” He kissed her temple.
“I’ll sleep with you, but I’m not going to fall in love with you because we go to a few movies and share popcorn.”
Unable to hide it, he let his grin erupt and squeezed her hand. “We already share popcorn. And you’re already in love with me, you just can’t deal with it right now. I didn’t ask you to sleep with me. In fact, there isn’t going to be any sex until you can accept my proposal.”
“What?” Astonishment blanked her face.
“I will not have sex with you. Not until you can make love with me.”
“That’s just semantics.”
“No. For me, it’s a necessity. You know I want you. But let me show you I love you…outside the bedroom.”
Openmouthed, she stared at him for a long minute. He used his thumb to snap her jaw shut. She never blinked. He smoothed his palm along her cheek. Her skin was cool silk against his hand.
“Why?”
“Because, Charlie, you’re worth it.”