Chapter Fourteen

Charlotte

Luke didn’t wake me on Saturday morning, and neither did the bright, glittery sunshine that poured through the windows of his bedroom. Instead, the phone that I had fallen asleep beside buzzed so close to my face that I shot bolt upright, my heart racing as I frantically glanced around.

I clutched my chest, then let out a deep breath and grabbed for the damned thing, checking to make sure I hadn’t disturbed Luke. But no, he slept on like a log, snoring gently with his mouth halfway open.

I reached toward him, tempted to brush back a tuft of his mussed hair, but then my phone buzzed again and he shifted, swatting it away from him as he snuggled deeper into the sheets.

Reaching quickly, I grabbed the phone just before it tipped over the edge of the bed, then glanced down at the flashing screen. I had so many missed calls and follow-up voice mails that a knot formed in my stomach at the sheer number alone.

Breathing deeply through my nose, I eased from the bed and tiptoed out of the room, careful to close the door quietly behind me before edging my way into the kitchen and opening the dreaded screen.

Okay, all I had to do was look at the last five calls. That was it. If I wanted to listen to them, I would. If not? They could wait for another day.

With another deep breath, I sucked in my cheeks and scanned the list of names.

Mom.

Dad.

Valentina.

A number I didn’t recognize.

Prescott.

I did a double-take at the last name, hating the little heart emoji that still lingered beside his name in my contact list, and deleted the message without listening. Okay, that was one decision down. All I had to do now was decide on the rest.

Better to start soft, right? Crawl before you run?

I tapped Valentina’s name and held the phone to my ear.

“Charlotte, hey. Just calling to see what the deal is with the car and the town and everything. I hope you’re on the road. Can’t wait to see you!” She made a happy little screeching noise, and then the message clicked off.

Okay, that wasn’t so bad. I glanced at the list again and chose my next poison—the number I didn’t recognize. Even a bill collector or heavy breather would likely be better than a message from my mother.

“Ms. Freemont, this is Dr. Maloney. I’m sorry to be calling you out of the blue like this, but your parents told me that there might be some cause for concern. Could you please call me back and let me know if you’re all right, and where you are? Your parents are very worried, and I would like to get you the help you need and deserve.” He left his number and then hung up.

I stared at the phone, blinking at it like it had slapped me.

Was that a . . . psychiatrist? Did they think, just because I didn’t want to marry Prescott or stick around in their plastic little world, that I was having some kind of mental breakdown?

But then, I had fled the scene without a word and headed for California. That would worry any parent, I was sure. Even if my mom’s Botoxed face was no longer capable of expressing emotion, surely there was a heart left rattling somewhere in that impossibly narrow chest cavity of hers.

Conflicted, I clicked on the next message and listened.

“Charlotte, darling, it’s me.” My mom’s voice floated over the line, airy and light, as if she were calling to see if I was available for tea this afternoon. “I know you must be in a state right now. You probably think you’ve ruined everything, and I won’t lie. It is a little tough around the club,” she said with a cluck of her tongue that set my teeth on edge. “But you have to remember other girls have still made worse mistakes. Remember when Nina Weiss’s daughter ran away and eloped with that boy she met on the subway, of all places? Anyway, what I’m saying is come home. Prescott and Daddy will forgive you. Just come home and forget this momentary lapse.”

The message ended and I looked down at the phone again. She hadn’t asked if I was okay—hadn’t even asked where I was. Though, of course, I knew why.

It didn’t matter. Or it wouldn’t until I was exactly where they told me to be.

“Well, better make the rounds of it,” I mumbled and held up the phone to listen to my dad’s message.

There was a long moment of silence, then the sound of men laughing and the clicking of glasses followed by low chatter. Someone said something that was too muffled to make out, and Dad replied in a booming voice, “So then Duff says, you think that’s bad, you should see the other guy!” More laughter followed, and I clicked the message off without waiting to hear the other forty-three seconds.

My father had butt-dialed me. As far as he knew, I was missing and heartbroken, and he was out somewhere drinking and laughing with his buddies, telling tired old stories?

I set my jaw, trying to ignore the sting, and scrolled down to find another message from my mother. I clicked on it more out of righteous anger than interest, and when her voice floated over the line again, I gritted my teeth, waiting for her to ask me this time where I was, or if I was okay.

“Charlotte, honey, it’s me again. I wanted you to know I’ve paid everyone from the reception and that’s all handled. I’ve also arranged for you to see a few doctors, so they should be calling you in short order. I hope to see you soon.”

She hoped to see me soon? That was it?

No I love you?

No nothing?

My mother’s only concern was for her checkbook—and her image. And that was exactly why I’d escaped—and exactly why I hadn’t told Luke about my past. I didn’t want him believing I was some silly society girl who only cared about the label stitched into her clothes or the number of zeroes in her bank account. I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t. And even though I knew that I shouldn’t have lied to Luke when he asked me about Prescott, I just wanted so badly to believe that all of that was behind me, and never speak of it again.

I slammed my phone on the kitchen table and huffed out a sigh, blinking back angry, frustrated tears.

I was just about to slam it again, just for the satisfaction of it, when a deep male voice behind me made me jump.

“Early to bed, early to rise, I guess,” Luke murmured, looping his arms around me and pulling me back against his chest.

I could feel the long, rigid outline of his cock against my ass. It was amazing how just the feel of his heated skin could mellow the fury in my chest while unfurling a whole other kind of heat inside me.

“What was all that about?” He nodded toward my phone, and I shook my head.

“Nothing. Checking for word about the car.” The lies were coming quicker and easier, and I hated myself for that, but there was no sense in dragging him into my drama when I was leaving in two days.

“I’m guessing it’s not ready by that reaction. I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t hold your breath on hearing about that anytime soon.”

“I know, I know. It’s Saturday, so Wayne’s drunk.” I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t take long to learn the ins and outs of a place like this.”

He stiffened and paused, still in the process of nuzzling my hair. “Something wrong with that?”

I wanted to bite my tongue off. “Not at all,” I said, shaking my head. “What does Saturday normally look like for you?”

“When there’s a beautiful woman in my house, I tend not to leave the bed. Especially since she was asleep when I got home last night.” He laced his fingers with mine and spun me around to face him. “What do you say, beautiful? Want to go get dirty together?”

“I’d say that would be perfect,” I murmured as he leaned in to kiss me, but I put my finger on his lips, calling on every bit of my willpower to hold him in place. “If we didn’t have so much work to do. You said you wanted my help, and I want to help you. Now tell me, where do you work best?”

With a long-suffering sigh and the promise of a reward when we were done, Luke arranged all the papers and forms I needed on his dining room table, and I settled in to work. For the next couple of hours, we pored over the papers and drew out designs.

When the morning became the afternoon, Luke disappeared into the kitchen to make us sandwiches, leaving me alone to take a break. I found myself glancing around his house, still sort of pinching myself that I was there.

It really was a sweet little place—bright and cheery with all the homey touches I would never have expected in a bachelor pad. It was a house built for a family, and as I stared around the table, I pictured tiny little Lukes sitting in those empty chairs, all joining hands and saying grace before their Sunday meal.

It was like a fantasy family life, certainly not anything I’d grown up with, and for the first time I felt a little envious of Luke. His parents were gone but he still had Duke and Molly, and the legacy of that early family life would always be with them. They could all still sit around this table, and if he went missing . . .

Well, there was no doubt that one of his loved ones would at least ask where he was.

My heart gave a squeeze and I gnawed on my lower lip, trying to push the thoughts of my family from my mind. Luckily, Luke reappeared a few seconds later and sat a turkey sandwich in front of me, the crusts cut off and the sandwich itself cut into four perfect triangles.

I laughed, my melancholy evaporating under the warmth of his boyish grin. “Wow, gourmet.”

“Only the best for you, city girl.”

There was no malice in his words, though, and I picked up the sandwich and bit in. It had been years since someone had made me a sandwich like this, but there was no denying the simple goodness.

He took a seat across from me and dug in as we talked. He told stories about his friends and the business, and about Duke and Molly. Suddenly, the image of all of us sitting around the table became even clearer in my mind, and I got so wrapped up in the flow of conversation that I found myself speaking before I stopped to think.

“What do you think the odds are of your wife having twins like you and Duke?” I asked, taking a hasty bite of my sandwich to distract from my reddening face.

Oh Lord, I’d really done it now. He was going to think I was some sort of loony stalker, naming our twins after what amounted to nothing more than a little fling.

He shot me a quizzical glance. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“No reason at all,” I said brightly, shaking my head. “I just feel bad for her and her vag and all. Probably rough on the old girl, squeezing out doubles, you know?”

Luke laughed and then groaned. “Oh my God, that was funny until I had to think of it in terms of my own mom, so thanks for that.”

It was better than the alternative, so I swept my arm out and executed a little half bow. “You’re quite welcome. And there’s plenty more where that came from. I’ll be here all weekend.”

Taking advantage of the reprieve from pure humiliation, I quickly shifted gears, steering the conversation back toward the safety of work again.

But then, as we worked and talked, Luke’s chair seemed to inch closer and closer to mine. As afternoon turned into evening, the sun that had shone through the wide windows was replaced with twinkling stars, and I lost focus of everything.

Everything . . . except exactly how close he was sitting. How it would take nothing at all for him to close the space between us, slide our papers to the floor, and splay me out on the dining room table right then and there.

My cheeks heated as I imagined him spreading my legs open, his tongue laving me the way he had in the field that first night. Warmth spread through my body at the thought alone, and I squeezed my thighs together, not wanting to give in to the swell of need and longing. Not yet, anyway.

“Don’t you think?” Luke asked.

I forced myself back to the present and nodded my head vigorously. “Oh, um, yeah. Yes. Definitely.”

He leaned across me to write something on the file in front of me. His earthy, manly smell wafted up as he moved and I breathed in deeply, remembering the way that scent had tasted on his skin. With his sun-kissed hair in front of me, it was all I could do not to reach out and run my fingers through his locks, but again I refrained.

We’re talking business. Tonight is about business.

My stomach rumbled, and I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

“Hungry?” he asked, and I nodded. “What are you in the mood for?”

When he smiled at me, I wanted to blurt out the answer, the real answer—him. Maple syrup. Whipped cream. Whatever he would let me do, just so long as I could feel his body on mine again.

He was just so damn close.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, and he shrugged.

“Think it over.”

I nodded again and he scooted his chair even closer, his knee brushing against mine as he moved. Another shot of pure electricity jolted through me at his touch.

What was it with him? It wasn’t like I’d never been with men before, but now every time I thought about his fingers on my body, I found myself panting and needy like never before.

I had to get it together—and fast. Not just because I was sure he could see the way my eyes dilated and fixed on his lips every time he spoke, but because . . . well, tomorrow was Sunday. We only had one more day together, and if I got used to feeling like this every time I was around him, what would I do when I was gone? When I finally had to leave?

“So, I was thinking about this for the logo,” he said as he sketched something on the paper in front of me.

Focus, I told myself. Focus. You promised you would help him.

But I couldn’t. All I could think about was the way the table would thunk against the hardwood while he held my hips and turned me over, ready to take me from behind.

Panic filled me at the realization that this might be the last time we were together. I wanted to make it special and—

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

I looked down at the paper to see a little stick-figure man and woman in a compromising position. I let out a short laugh, my cheeks flushing.

“Am I that obvious?”

His mouth quirked to the side. “Something like that. But luckily, great minds think alike.”

His hand stroked my thigh, working its way to the inside of my leg, just above where I could already feel my panties getting wet.

“I actually have a better idea.”

I plucked the pencil from his other hand and scribbled on the paper, just beneath his drawing. When I pulled my hand back, his gaze fell on the image of a stick-figure woman on her knees in front of a very happy-looking stick-figure man.

“Far be it for me to argue,” he said and cupped the space between my thighs, rubbing gently before continuing. “Just know that I still want to fuck you after.”

I knew Duke and Molly would be gone all day to lend a hand to a neighbor, leaving us truly and completely alone. That feeling made me bold, a little reckless.

“If you insist,” I teased, then sank to my knees in front of him as he kicked out his chair to face me.

With deft hands, he loosened the buckle and tugged his belt free, letting it drop to the floor with a loud clunk. Then he released the button and zipper and pulled his jeans to his ankles before kicking them aside until he was left in nothing but his black boxer briefs.

Already, I could see the huge bulge jutting out beneath the fabric, and my mouth watered at the idea of tasting him. Why had I waited so long for this? In the entire week we’d had, how had I wasted so much time? And now, with less than two days left . . .

Tomorrow I would have to do it again, just so I had more than one memory to take with me. And then maybe we could do it in the shower and—

But I was getting ahead of myself. Here and now was about him, pulling down those boxers to reveal the huge, hard cock I knew was waiting for me, wanting me. I licked my lips as he pulled his briefs down and tossed them aside with the rest of his clothes.

“Shirt too,” I said, and he raised his eyebrows.

“When did you get so bossy?”

I stood and turned as if I were going to walk away. “Okay, if you don’t want to listen.”

Big, powerful hands gripped my hips and pulled me back against his muscular chest as he whispered into my ear, “You’re not going anywhere.”

My heart skipped a beat as he gripped the hem of my shirt and tugged it over my head. Unthinking, I followed his lead, stretching my hands over my head and letting my shirt join his clothing on the floor.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he murmured.

My breath caught as, with the slightest twist, my bra tightened and then released as I allowed it to fall away from me.

“I want to see those tits bounce while you suck my dick,” he said, and another surge of longing rushed between my thighs.

My heart was beating so fast and the blood was rushing to my ears with so much intensity that I wanted to fall to my knees in front of him and suck long and deep. I slid from his lap and took my place between his open knees, my thoughts filled with nothing but how hot his skin would feel against my hips, how amazing he would smell as I bobbed up and down.

He dragged his shirt up over his head and grinned at me, revealing a muscular chest and the sexiest set of abs I’d ever been up close and personal with. “A deal’s a deal. Though I want you to take off those pants too. You’d look so hot with your knees open, sucking my cock and waiting for me.”

I shivered a little at the thought, but the feistier side of me took over. “Not part of the deal. You’ve got to wait for that.”

I inched closer to him, taking the base of his shaft in one hand while I cupped his balls with the other. Gently, I massaged him while I worked him up and down, readying him for me. There was no way I’d be able to fit all of him in my mouth—in truth, I might need both hands just to make up for the portion of him I wouldn’t be able to take—but watching him as I worked was enough to make me want to come right then and there.

His eyes darkened as he watched. He tucked one hand under my chin to force me to look into those brooding, hungry eyes.

“You’re a tease,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

I tossed him a smile. “You want my mouth?”

But I didn’t wait for him to respond. As his hand moved to grasp the nape of my neck, I leaned down and took him into my mouth, sucking his sensitive head as I rolled the tip of my tongue over him. He let out a low groan as I worked and took him deeper, doing my best to fit as much of him inside my mouth as I could.

His skin was even hotter than I imagined, and as he bobbed against the back of my throat, my tongue burned with the sensation of lapping him. With a little tick of movement, I could feel him growing harder still inside my mouth, and he gripped the back of my neck with more force, urging me to keep up.

All the while, I worked him with one hand, loving the way his thighs twitched with every long, deep suck. With him still inside my mouth, I let out a little moan of approval, simultaneously loving and hating the ache in my jaw that was building with every passing thrust. My lips were becoming sore with sweet, sensitive heat, and I knew when I pulled away, they would be swollen and red from my efforts. This, I knew, would only make his kisses cooler by comparison in the best, most scintillating way.

That was, if he kissed me at all. For all I knew, he might simply bend me over the table and have his wicked way with me—just like his little stick figures had done.

“Enough,” he groaned as his commanding grip dragged me back and away from him. “I can’t fucking take it anymore. Take off those pants and let me see what’s mine.”

With the deep rumble of his voice, I knew better than to argue, even though I felt bereft the second my lips left him. Standing, I unzipped my jeans and stepped carefully out of them until I was in nothing but a bright blue scrap of lace. Silently, I hooked my thumbs under the elastic, but then Luke was on his knees in front of me, his teeth on my panties as he dragged them to the floor. When he righted himself, he kissed me between my thighs, and I let out another little shiver of pleasure.

“Bend over,” he commanded, and again I followed his lead.

With one hand, I swept aside the papers we’d spent all day toiling over and then bent over the table, careful to pull myself onto my tiptoes so he could get a nice, good look at what I knew he wanted most to see.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I wish I could take a picture. I could stare at your pussy all day, baby.”

I shot a smile at him from over my shoulder.

Apparently, that was all it took. With another muttered oath, he gripped himself and drove into me hard and fast, and I let out a little gasp.

His powerful fingers dug into my thighs, and with greedy, hungry thrusts, he bent my body to his will. With one hand on the table to steady me, I reached the other between my legs and pleasured myself, heightening the steady push and pull of his swollen cock as he drove into me harder and harder still.

“That’s it, baby. I love watching you touch yourself,” he rasped.

I looked over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of the steady concentration in his eyes. With every thrust, his jaw ticked with desperate need, and the sight of it alone made me let out a little moan of pleasure. If this was our last time together, I was going to make it memorable. I was going to make sure we came together.

Working myself faster still, I clenched around his huge length, and he let out another low groan.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and I pushed back against him, causing him to take me even faster than before.

With every move, he pushed deeper inside me. I closed my eyes, savoring the way my inner walls tightened, shaking and quaking to the point of spilling over into orgasm.

I was so close, so close to the edge, and all I had to do was—

“Damn, Charlotte.”

My name on his lips was like the key to a hidden room. A surge of euphoria rushed over me and I gripped the table with both hands, using it to steady myself as the orgasm ripped through my every cell. My channel closed over him, gripping and releasing in a flurry of spasms.

“Luke,” I cried.

His fingers dug into my skin to the point of pain as he bucked against me, groaning and flexing as he came, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to feel him letting go, losing himself in me as I lost myself in him. Having everything, everything we could give each other.

Even if it was only for a little while.