Charlie couldn’t even come close to sleeping.

It was well after midnight when she went up to her room, so she took a quick shower and changed into her pajamas, but when she turned the lights off and got under the covers, she just lay there awake, staring up at the ceiling.

If a relationship with Simon were even a remote possibility, something would have happened earlier. Their argument might have been vague, but it had been obvious what it was about. He’d told her nothing would ever happen between them—just as clearly as if he’d said the words out loud.

He didn’t want her that way.

He didn’t think about her that way.

And he wasn’t going to change his mind.

She needed to just give this up.

It had been a year, and she’d given it a chance. She’d given him a chance. Now was the time to accept that he didn’t want what she wanted. It might feel to her like they were perfectly suited for each other, but he didn’t feel the same way.

He probably wanted a woman older than her, more stable than her, more mature.

A woman of substance.

Not a pretty piece of fluff like her.

She brooded on all these truths as she lay under the covers, turning from side to side to flat on her back and then to her side again.

It was time to stop being silly.

It was time to stop being young.

It was time to accept that the world wasn’t what she wanted it to be. To embrace reality. To acknowledge that a world filled with flawed people was never going to be good.

She was twenty-five years old.

She wasn’t a fanciful girl anymore.

A world that had taken away her parents wouldn’t balk at taking away Simon too.

She was staring wide-eyed at a darker shadow on the ceiling, wondering why it was darker than the rest.

It was one o’clock on Saturday morning in February, and she was all alone.

No family.

No husband.

No prince to carry her off into the sunset toward a happy ending.

Just a stubborn beast who might stand guard over her but would always end up pushing her away.

If this were a fairy tale, it was one that taught a bleak lesson and not the kind that would make a frothy movie. The kind of traditional tale that cynics brought up to prove that fairy tales weren’t for the fainthearted.

She didn’t like that kind of fairy tale.

She didn’t want to live in that kind of story.

She wanted something else.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she hefted herself out of the bed. She wore silky pink shorts and a thin white camisole and wasn’t really dressed for public viewing. But she didn’t think about that. She didn’t think about anything.

She grabbed her key card and a condom from her purse—just in case—and walked out into the hall. Took ten steps over to the door next to hers and knocked on it loudly.

Her head was roaring with adrenaline, and her vision was slightly blurred.

She had no idea why she was doing this.

Except for one truth.

She didn’t like this story, and so she wasn’t going to submit to it.

Maybe it meant she was silly and young and hopelessly naïve—maybe it meant she wasn’t any good at guarding her heart like she was supposed to—but she wanted a happy ending.

And she still didn’t believe it was impossible, even when so much of the world did nothing but beat you down.

She kept knocking on the door until it swung open.

Simon stood across the threshold, wearing nothing but gray boxer briefs. Dark bristles shaded his jaw, and his hair was mussed. His expression was confused and urgent. “Charlie? Charlie, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” It was a stupid thing to say, but her throat was painfully tight.

“Nothing? Are you okay?” He reached out to pull her into his room, and then his hand slid up to cup her face. His dark eyes searched hers almost frantically. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong?”

He’d never called her that before, and the old-fashioned endearment made her heart leap dramatically.

“Nothing is wrong,” she managed to say, leaning her face into his big, warm hand. “I wanted to talk.”

She saw the succession of emotions register on his face. Worry. Relief. Confusion. Discomfort.

His eyes drifted down to her body and lingered there before they returned to her face.

“You want to talk?” he asked, slightly rough.

“Yes. To talk.”

“Can we talk in the morning?”

“No. We can’t.”

His eyes drifted down again, and she looked down at herself to discover that her breasts were visibly free and unencumbered beneath the thin fabric of her camisole. Her nipples were prominently displayed, and the waistband of her little shorts was riding low on her hips.

His gaze returned to her face. “This isn’t a good time.”

“Why not?” She had a sudden jab of fear as she glanced behind him into his dark room. “You’re... you’re alone, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m alone!” He sounded outraged at the question, but it was a legitimate one. He was single and sexy and virile. He was free to date whomever he wanted.

He owed no loyalty or commitment to her. He wouldn’t even kiss her.

“Then why can’t we talk now?” she asked, shifting her bare feet slightly on the carpet.

“You’re not dressed.”

“Who cares about that? You’re not dressed either.”

“That makes it worse.” He’d dragged his eyes away from her now and was staring vigilantly to the side at the doorframe.

“It makes what worse?” She was arguing mostly to argue—so he wouldn’t ease her out into the hall and close the door on her face.

He made a frustrated noise in his throat, his shoulders very tense. “Would you please just leave, Charlie?”

“No, I’m not going to leave. I want to talk.”

He groaned again, but she could see resignation on his face. Relieved, she let the door fall closed with a click.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

“I want you to look at me,” she said, not even realizing what she was going to say until the words were coming out of her mouth. “And tell me that you think of me as a child.”

His mouth twisted. “I never said you were a child, Charlie.”

“No, but you’re acting like it. You’re acting like our relationship is defined by my being a child, by my being only one small part of myself and not the whole of who I am now. So I want you to look at me—really look at me right now—and tell me you think of me as a child. If you do, I’ll believe you. I’ll never bring it up again.”

He met her eyes, and she knew he understood her. He realized exactly what she was saying, the way she was forcing an issue that had been unspoken between them for the past year.

“You have to look at me first,” she said, her voice wobbling slightly near the end. “And then say it. That’s the only way I’ll believe you.”

He let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing. Then his eyes started to purposefully scan her face, run down the length of her body.

She knew he was trying. He was trying to control himself so he could say what he needed to say, so he could win this little battle of wills.

But she was watching closely and she saw what happened.

A fire started to smolder in the darkness of his eyes as he looked at her body. Soon his gaze was hungry and urgent, and he seemed to have trouble pulling his eyes away from her breasts, her bare legs.

She looked down and saw the effect on his own body. He was getting hard—his arousal clearly visibly since he was just wearing his underwear.

“Charlie,” he rasped.

“That’s what I thought.” She stepped closer to his tense body and raised a hand to his chest.

“Charlie,” he said again, almost shaking now in his attempt to rein in what he was feeling.

“You’re aroused, Simon.”

“I’m a man.”

“I know you’re a man. And I’m a woman, not a child. You’re not my family. You’re not in authority over me. You never were.”

“I can’t...”

“You can’t what, Simon? If you try to tell me that you can’t think about me romantically, sexually, then I simply won’t believe you. Your body wants me.” She slid her hand down his chest and abdomen until she was brushing gently against his hard erection. “The rest of you wants me too. I know it does.”

“I can’t...” He groaned helplessly at her touch, and it was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. “Oh fuck, I just can’t stop myself.”

Her heart exploded in joy as his hands moved up to hold her face between his palms. He stared at her intensely for a moment before he leaned down into a kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, throwing herself into the kiss with all the passion in her soul. He stumbled back a step but then braced himself as he deepened the kiss.

Her body was pulsing in excitement and growing desire as her tongue tangled with his. He was big and warm and strong and hard, and nothing had ever felt better against her.

With a low hum, she rubbed herself against him eagerly, and she felt him tense even more before his knees buckled and he fell backward onto the bottom of the bed.

She fell with him, giggling as he rolled her over onto her back and moved over her. She bent up one knee and parted her legs, wanting to feel the weight of his body between her thighs.

She could feel him smiling too, his lips turned up as he pressed them against hers again. And the fact of his smile as they were tangled together like this caused joy to throb in her head, her heart.

The emotion spilled out in more giggles as she ran her hands up and down his firm back.

“What are you laughing at?” he murmured, his mouth busy kissing its way down her throat.

She sucked in a breath of pleasure when he mouthed the pulse in her throat. “I’m not laughing. Just making happy noises.”

“Happy noises, huh?” He pulled up far enough to tug up her camisole and pull it over her head. Her bare breasts bounced from the motion, and she saw his gaze ignite as he stared.

The obvious hunger in his eyes thrilled her. She lifted her hips to slide off her shorts and panties so she was completely naked beneath him.

His eyes moved lower, and for a long time he was motionless, braced above her on straightened arms. A world of feeling reflected on his face with only the slightest of hints. A muscle flickering at his temple. A tightening of his lips. Then he let out a lingering groan that sounded like, “Oh fuck, sweetheart.”

She giggled again. “Was that your happy sound?”

He leaned down to kiss her, murmuring against her lips. “That was as happy as I get.”

They kissed for a long time, and her hands were well occupied in running up and down his well-defined biceps, his spine, his firm ass. She was already more aroused than she could ever remember being, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Eventually he moved down from her mouth to tease the sensitive spot in her throat, then one of her breasts.

He was good with his mouth. Really good. He didn’t seem practiced as much as experienced, like he knew women enough to know that the normal pawing and groping didn’t do much to get them excited. Charlie would have been totally into this no matter how skillful he happened to be, but she’d never been with a man who’d paid her body such focused attention before.

It was intoxicating. And a little bit scary as she felt more and more out of control.

“Simon!” she gasped at last, arching her back as she dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying desperately to hold on. “Simon, please!”

He’d been teasing her nipple with his tongue and lips, but at this he lifted his head and focused on her face. “What do you need, Charlie?”

“I need you to... to move on.” She was almost embarrassed by the admission, and she couldn’t seem to stop squirming.

“I thought you were liking it.” He was repositioning now, and she was afraid he’d be disappointed in her.

“I was. But it was... I’m ready. We can move on.”

His brows drew down slightly. “If you were liking it, we don’t have to move on so soon.”

“So soon?” Her voice broke. “I’m ready. And you’re ready.” She glanced down at his groin and was pleased to see that he was still visibly erect, an obvious sign of how much he wanted her. “We can have sex now.”

He gave her a very slow smile. “We were having sex. No need to rush to the main event. The opening acts can be really good too.”

“I know. I just...” She had no idea what she wanted to say.

He could have gotten going again. If he’d touched her again, she would have forgotten all of her anxiety. But he didn’t rush her along. He didn’t get back into action. He obviously wanted to hear what she had to say. “You just what, sweetheart? Tell me what’s worrying you.”

She was flushed and breathing heavily and still so aroused that she couldn’t keep her hips still. But he was seeing her, he was hearing her, so she told him the truth. “I want you to enjoy this too. I don’t want it to be all about me.”

He gave her that slow smile again, the one that made her heart break open and sing for joy. “You have no idea how much I’m enjoying this. Making you feel good is about the best thing I can think of to do.”

He was a careful, considerate man. He always had been. But he wasn’t a smooth talker or big on flattery. He always meant what he said.

He meant it now.

She could see it on his face.

She smiled back, that flickering anxiety in her chest finally relaxing.

In response to her smile, he moved up so he could kiss her lips very gently. She twined her fingers in his thick hair and sighed as she heard him moan low in his throat. It was a helpless, almost primal sound. The sexiest thing she could remember.

And he was making it because of her.

Because he wanted her so much.

After a minute, he moved back down her body to kiss and fondle her breasts until she was worked back up to intense arousal. She was squirming beneath him and making a lot of silly sounds as he trailed his mouth down even lower, over the soft flesh of her stomach, down between her legs.

She cried out when she felt his tongue. Then she cried out again when he parted her with his fingers and gave her clit a quick little flick. When he slid two fingers inside her, pumping them as he ravished her with his mouth, she just about lost it.

Her legs were hooked over his shoulders now, and she was doing her best not to squeeze her legs together around his head. She was almost sobbing as pleasure mounted as she shamelessly tried to ride his fingers.

When the orgasm finally broke, she let it come without inhibition. She was crying out loudly and clutching at the bedding as her body flew apart.

She was smiling helplessly as she collapsed back on the bed, her vision clearing enough to see that Simon was watching her. He’d lifted his head, although his hand was still between her legs, stroking her lightly as the intense clenching faded to a few fluttering aftershocks.

She wished she could say something cool and sophisticated and clever, but the only sound she could make was another giggle.

He evidently liked the sound of it. His face softened into a smile.

“Now why the hell wouldn’t I enjoy that?” he asked, moving up her body so his face was level with hers. “Nothing in the world has ever been more fun for me than that.”

There was no way she could respond to that. It was too close to what she really wanted to hear. She pulled him down into a kiss, moaning hoarsely as he adjusted his weight on top of her, settling between her legs.

If Charlie had expected him to really get going now on intercourse, she was once again to be surprised. He kept kissing her for a long time until the soft leisure from her orgasm had tightened into urgency again.

He was obviously ready for more. He kept pushing into her middle with his erection in delicious little thrusts. But he was still wearing his underwear, and he hadn’t yet reached for the condom she’d brought with her.

Getting needy again, she found his waistband and started to pull his underwear down. He grunted as she moved the fabric over his erection, but he adjusted his position so she could pull it off over his feet.

Now he was as naked as she was, and she reached for him eagerly, her fingers curling around the hard length of him.

He grunted again.

“I want you now,” she told him. “Simon, I really want you inside me now.”

He straightened up, breathing raggedly, before he grabbed the condom packet. She took it out of his hand and tore it open. Then she was suddenly inspired, so she gave him a teasing look before she bent forward, positioned the condom, and then rolled it on over his shaft with her mouth.

He moaned helplessly, one of his hands fisting in her hair with what felt like a primal response.

She’d practiced that move several times with an old boyfriend, and evidently she still remembered how. She double-checked the condom when she lifted her head, but it was on right and there were no tears, so she lifted her eyes to his with a victorious expression.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you’re going to kill me before this is over,” he rasped.

She couldn’t help but like the sound of that.

He eased her back onto the bed and moved over her, positioning himself between her legs. He lined himself up at her entrance as she bent her legs high on either side of his hips. She was still wet and pliant and more than ready for him. And he was finally easing inside her in a series of delicious little starts and stops.

He was being careful. Gentle. So much like the man she knew. And it made everything feel even better—that he was caring about her even in this.

“How is it?” he asked, breathing loud and fast as he held himself still above her.

She tried to say it was good but what came out was a little giggle.

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re laughing at me again?”

“No! That was just more happy sounds. I thought you’d be able to recognize them by now.”

He chuckled as he gave her a soft kiss. “Well, when a man is in this particular position, he gets a little worried when he hears something that sounds like laughter.”

She could tell from his voice was that he was teasing, that he wasn’t worried. “Well, your fragile ego can rest easy. Nothing but happy sounds from me.”

“Maybe we can hear some more happy sounds from you,” he murmured, kissing her one more time before he started to thrust.

She wrapped her arms around him and rocked her hips to meet his motion, still smiling like a fool. She couldn’t help it. This was what she’d wanted for so long, and it was better than she’d ever imagined

Simon’s eyes were focused on her unwaveringly, like he was really seeing her, even as he was taking his pleasure in her body this way.

He wasn’t just doing something to her, the way a lot of the men she’d been with felt like. He was in this with her.

He kept his rhythm steady until her body started to need more. Then she urged him on with her fingernails down his back and her frantic rocking beneath him. When an orgasm started to crest inside her, she let out a loud, broken moan, sliding her hands down so she could clutch at his ass, which was moving fast and urgent now.

“Simon, please,” she gasped, arching her neck back and pumping her hips with shameless need. “Oh God, Simon! I’m gonna... I’m gonna... Oh God!”

She came on the last word, her orgasm breaking hard and making her shake and moan. When she started to come down, she was surprised to see that Simon was still moving above her, his eyes lingering on her face, a little smile tilting up the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t be smug,” she told him.

“Not smug. Happy.” He was breathless, and his body was so tense it was shuddering slightly. Despite his wry tone, she knew he was pretty far gone himself.

She wanted him to let go. Let go as much as she had. He might have visions of exerting an iron will and making her come over and over again, but she’d rather they both let go of all their control, all their inhibitions.

She adjusted her legs to hook them around his butt, and he groaned as he sank deeper inside her. His motion was less controlled now, urgent and needy.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “I was going to—”

“I don’t care,” she told him. “I want you to come. I want you to come like I did.” She urged on his motion with her hands on his ass and started to squeeze herself around his erection.

He let out another low groan.

“That’s it,” she said. “Let go, Simon. Let go. I want to see you let go.”

It didn’t happen immediately. The bonds of his restraint were too strong, too long lasting. But after a minute he fell out of rhythm, taking her hard and fast and almost clumsy. She watched the pleasure break across his face, she heard the sounds of his intensifying pleasure. She thrilled when his face finally contorted and he choked on a wordless sound.

He moaned long and low as he fell over the edge and pushed into her a few last times. His whole body was shuddering between her legs, beneath her hands, and nothing had ever been sweeter.

She was making him feel this good. She was letting him finally release all that he’d always held back.

She was the woman who could do that.

She wanted to be the only one who ever would.

He fell down on top of her when he’d finally worked through his climax. He was hot and heavy and breathless, and slowly his body relaxed.

She rolled her hips, feeling full and achy and emotional at the way he was so much inside her.

He pulled out before he softened so he could take care of the condom. He sat for a minute on the side of the bed, breathing heavily and staring at the floor. Then he got up to throw the condom away.

She was nervous again when he returned to the bedroom and stood above the bed, looking down at her.

She was suddenly worried about what he would say.

Maybe now that the urgency of the arousal was over he’d decide the whole thing was a mistake.

She reached a hand out toward him, and it shook slightly as she waited to see what he would do.

He took her hand.

He let her pull him back into bed beside her.

Smiling in relief, she pulled the covers up over both of them and settled herself in the crook of his arm.

“That was full of happy noises,” she said after a minute.

He let out a huff of amusement, one she could feel in his whole body. “Yeah.”

“And not just from me. You made a lot of them yourself.”

He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Yes. I did.”

“I think I might even be able to sleep now,” she said, her body sated as much as her heart was.

“Good. Me too.”

That was what she wanted to hear, so she let herself close her eyes.

She’d done the right thing after all. If she wanted her happy ending, she had to go after it.

And this was what she wanted.

She could hardly believe she actually had it.