Dean held Charlotte against him, his fingers trailing up and down the length of her back as she drifted in and out of sleep. Her arm was draped over his chest, and he watched as one little freckle on her inner arm rose up and down along with their deep breaths.
He hadn’t felt this content in a long time, but with that came worry. And fear. This felt right. Good. This woman could not be any more perfect for him if she tried. Charlotte was funny, smart, passionate, and so beautiful it made him ache.
He’d known this was a tough day for her, had wanted to get her to open up to him, but finding her in the doorway obviously fresh from crying had just about done him in. All he’d wanted to do was take her pain away, make everything right in her world. It was still all he wanted, which was why he worried that in the long run, he might not be the man to make her happy. That thought was so terrifyingly sobering, his chest tightened against her arm.
Charlotte had lost an unborn child, something he had had the misfortune to go through himself, four times. But if the experiences had taught him anything, it was that even just one loss was too much.
Tomorrow Dean was expecting a phone call from the doctor. Lab results that would more than likely tell him that he would be wasting his time to try and conceive again. He was prepared for that.
The problem was, what did that mean for him and the woman in his arms? It was a real fear, and the only thing that made him worry that Charlotte might be better off without him. She obviously wanted children, and the reality for him was that he was not only unlikely to be able to give her that gift, but he was also unlikely to be interested in trying. Who in their right mind would knowingly risk putting the woman they cared for through that kind of pain?
He knew he needed to tell her, let her know what she was signing up for if she wanted to pursue whatever this was between them any further. But he just couldn’t do it today, not with what she’d just revealed to him.
She shifted in her sleep, snuggling closer into his body. Her breasts pressed into his side, warm and plush, and Dean closed his eyes to savor the feel of every inch of her skin in contact with his. He’d watched in amazement as she’d ridden him just moments ago, her body so supple and perfect. He was weather-beaten, beginning to gray, and starting to feel the creaks and aches of a body that had worked hard for a living.
Nearly twelve years between them. When he talked with her, listened to her laugh and flirt with him, it felt like nothing to worry about. He loved her youthfulness. But sometimes, when he thought of how he might feel or look physically ten years from now—or even worse, what she’d feel when she looked at him …
His mother had left his father—and in many ways him—for a younger man. His own wife had gone looking for happiness elsewhere. Why in the hell wouldn’t Charlotte feel the same eventually?
Why were there so many damn strikes against them?
“What are you thinking about?” a husky voice said against his chest. Charlotte turned her body and rested her chin on his chest. Her eyes were still slightly swollen and red, her lips full.
“Nothing important. Work.”
Her eyebrows rose as if she wasn’t sure if she believed him. Smart girl. He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead.
“Your chest hair is almost grown.” She ran her nails through it until her hand came up to his mouth, and he kissed her index finger. “I like it this length.”
“Well, don’t think for one minute I’m going to start trimming it to maintain.”
“Not even for me?” she teased, her lip going into a pout.
God, he’d do anything for her. He wanted to do everything for her.
“You may have to entice me,” he said.
“I’m sure I could do that.” Her grin was wicked as she lowered her hand under the sheet.
“I’m afraid you may find me … unenticeable at the moment. A perk of reaching your forties.”
She yanked her hand up and gently slapped his chest. “Will you stop acting like you’re old? I just had the most amazing sex of my life with the hottest guy I’ve ever met.”
Crawling up his body, she dropped her head down and kissed him before continuing with her speech. “Everything about your body turns me on.”
Her breasts hovered over his chest and he filled his hands with their fullness, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. “It can’t turn you on nearly as much as your body does me.”
“You’re wrong,” she whispered.
They kissed for a long moment, her mouth so sweet and wet.
When she finally rocked back on her heels, he let his hands drop to the bed.
“Can I still take you to dinner?” Dean asked, glancing at the clock beside her bed. It was ten thirty, but there would be something open.
“Well, I don’t turn down free food on principle. And I’m starving. Crying and sex really work up an appetite—and no, I don’t make a habit of doing them together.”
“And here that sounded so exciting,” he teased.
Charlotte laughed as she got out of the bed. Dean loved that she was so free and unashamed of her nudity around him as she picked up her clothes and began to dress. She was as lovely as a woman could be, her hips full and breasts lush enough to just spill over his hands. It was hard to imagine a woman as perfect as she was had just let him have his way with her.
“I hope you don’t mind waiting about fifteen minutes. I’m kind of anal about downloading my shoot and backing it up as soon as I can. Peace of mind and all that.”
“Of course.” Dean sat up and began to search for his own clothes.
“Okay, I’ll be in my office.” She pointed toward the door and what he assumed was across the hall. “Won’t take long.”
He nodded and watched her go, then began to gather his things. He used the restroom, got dressed, then went in search of her.
“Come look,” Charlotte said as he stepped into her office.
She sat at a big desk that held two large monitors. Her office was very her, the walls painted a pale gray, a bright-turquoise antique-looking sofa on the far wall. Above it were several different-sized canvas images of brides and grooms, babies, and even what appeared to be a high school student. Charlotte was incredibly talented.
Walking over to her desk, he saw that the screen was filled with images of Tara and her husband. The photos were breathtaking, Tara in a flowy white dress, Ben holding her close, the sun setting behind them all golden and bright.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Charlotte asked.
“She does.” Dean forced himself to touch her shoulder. Tara did look beautiful, but he could only think of how hard it must have been for Charlotte to be dealing with this on such a difficult day.
“I was worried about having this shoot today,” she said quietly. “But I’m glad I did it.”
“Yeah? How come?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair.
“It was a good reminder that miracles happen. I need to stop worrying about being pregnant in the future. It will happen when it’s meant to happen.”
Dean felt his chest tighten at her words. He forced his expression to stay neutral when she turned to look up at him. He couldn’t deny his relief when she quickly smiled and change the subject.
“Want to see something that will make me look ridiculous?” Charlotte asked. She clicked the sorting software shut and opened her photo files. She clicked through a few things until she opened a series of photos. “I can’t believe I’m going to show you this.”
Dean looked closer. “Is that me?”
She turned and looked up at him, grinning. “Every single one.”
He laughed and before he could lean over, Charlotte stood in her chair and motioned for him to sit. As soon as he did, she rested her butt on his thigh, so comfortable and easy with him, it took his breath away. Even more so when he realized she had at least thirty pictures of him during weddings she’d shot at the Stag.
“You are such a sneaky girl,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Is that one of just my ass?”
“Of course it is.” She laughed as she clicked it open, making it take up nearly the entire screen. He was at the bar, talking to Jen. Charlotte had apparently been close to the dance floor, a time he would have no doubt assumed she was photographing the guests dancing. But no, instead she’d been focused in on him. Mostly he appeared to be in the background of her intended shots, but for a few she’d zoomed right in on him, without him having a clue.
“I confess sometimes I like to watch you,” he whispered into her ear. “While you’re working.”
Charlotte turned on his lap, looping one arm around his neck. “Obviously I watch you, too. Constantly.”
“For how long?” he asked.
“Since the beginning.”
He inhaled deep, their eyes staring at each other.
“What about you?” she asked.
“Since the moment I first met you.”
Charlotte bit at her bottom lip, holding back a smile as her hand found its way into his lap. “Do you think you’re still unenticeable?”
He chuckled, leaning his head against hers. There was no letting this woman go. At least not willingly. But how in the hell could he convince her he was enough, damaged and all?