Charlotte
Rachel tilts her head from side to side, inspecting every inch of my body. Her lips open to speak, but no words escape even though they’re reeling through her head.
“Go ahead, say it,” I propose. “I can tell you have something on your mind.” She always has something to say, and I love her honesty most days, but not today. I’m already running late.
“Out of everything, you chose this to wear?” my best friend questions.
What’s that supposed to mean? Rachel believes she’s doing me a favor by scowling at how ugly she thinks my clothes are. She also believes I care what she thinks.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I inspect my dark stained jeans. Their fit is tight, elongating my legs until they seem a mile long. My flowy top sways away from my body. The deep hunter green makes my blue eyes pop.
“I mean, it’s sort of boring. Besides, you wore it to work and class today.” Rachel grabs my hand and drags me back into her room. “I have something you should wear.”
“I have to go. I told Derks I’d be at the bar by now.” I plop down on the edge of her mattress. She rolls her eyes when I check the time on my phone. He’s squeezing me into his schedule. I’m going to feel like a complete ass if I’m any later than I already am.
“Just give me a minute.” She digs through her closet. “Here it is.” She holds out a black leather skirt.
“You’re actually shitting with me, right?” I laugh nervously. There is no way I can pull off a leather skirt. The cobalt dress, sure, maybe on a rare, good day, but one like this doesn’t belong on a girl like me.
Rachel waves the skirt in front of my face. “Now,” she demands.
I slip my jeans off, discarding them onto her floor. The soft leather is cool against my hot skin. I zip and then clasp the button. Rachel greets me with an approving grin when I face the full-length mirror.
“This shirt isn’t going to work,” I state, messing with the loose neckline. Rachel holds up a finger and disappears into her closet. She hands over her favorite red tank top, and I replace my blouse with it, tucking it into the skirt. The material forms to my body but dips low on the sides, exposing my simple black lace bralette.
“God damn, woman!” Rachel shakes her head. “You’re a knockout.”
My phone rings, and Derks’ name flashes across the screen.
“Shit, Rachel. I’m really late.” I race from her room, swooping up my black clutch and slipping into my black heels.
“He’ll forgive you once he catches sight of you,” Rachel calls out.
I blow a kiss over my shoulder. “I’ll catch you later tonight, okay?”
“Hopefully not too early.” She waves, returning to her seat on the floor. “Try to have fun.”
I send a quick text and slide behind the steering wheel. The drive is short, much like most in this town. A spot opens up close to the door at Murphy’s. The air is cool on my skin when I step out and click the lock button until I hear it beep.
“Go on in, sweetie. Derks is waiting for you.” He addresses me as if he knows who I am.
“I’m Charlotte, by the way.” I reach out my hand.
“Randy.” He smiles. His friendly eyes are soft and understated, one thing I’m sure people don’t notice because of his numerous tattoos, but not me anymore. “It’s a pleasure to meet the girl who’s keeping Duke on his toes.”
“Oh, Duke and I aren’t... We aren’t...” My words trail off because, even though we are teetering on the edge of something other than friendship, I have no idea how to describe us. What will push it over the edge and when?
Randy narrows his eyes. “Better get in there.” He jerks his head at the door.
The main floor is packed full for a Wednesday night. Bodies bump into each other. The line at the bar is three people deep, with everyone yelling drink orders in hopes of getting alcohol in their system before the others.
I scan the main level and lock eyes with Duke. He stills in front of the cash register. His stare intensifies while the seconds tick by and my breathing labors. The black t-shirt allows me the chance to appreciate the tattoos adorning his forearm and bicep. We haven’t seen each other since the furniture store. Let’s just say I’ve been writing a lot of random thoughts in my notebooks. The way he looked and spoke freely is permanently imbedded into my brain. He made me feel important and wanted. I don’t know what it means, but it sets my entire body on fire.
Derks slides in beside me, interrupting the stare down between Duke and me. “You ready to do this?” With his hand on the small of my back, he guides me to the bar. “Since you’re not exactly of age, despite what the driver’s license in your purse says” —he raises an eyebrow, and Lydia laughs, pulling out a bottle of vodka and pouring a line of shots— “I’m going to have you hang back. Observe. I was first a bartender at a college bar back in Wisconsin. It’s where I learned everything I know.”
While filling drink orders, Derks tells me a little more of his past. He treats every customer like a friend. A wink here. A handshake there. It’s impressive the way he has built a lucrative business based solely on his bright, welcoming personality.
“I have a quick question,” I say as Derks skirts by to put a food order into the system.
Derks hands several dollar bills and coins to a blonde standing at the edge of the bar. Her eyes darken as she takes him in. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s interested in him. It also doesn’t come as any surprise that Derks is used to girls throwing themselves at him. He flashes his pearly whites, and her cheeks immediately color a light shade of pink.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” He turns to me, ignoring the girl.
“Why a bar?” I lean against the open spot beside the register. “I mean, of all the businesses, why a bar?”
“I told you I worked at a bar in college, and I’m only thirty. A bar seems like a fitting business to get into,” Derks answers, popping the tops on two beers.
“No, I don’t believe you. You’ve got these smile lines right here.” I grace my finger against the soft skin beside his eye. “They tell me a different story.”
“She’s impressive,” Derks says to Duke as he empties his pockets for what has to be the first time tonight.
Duke sucks on his bottom lip, and heat sparks between us.
“She sure is,” Duke whispers, slamming the drawer on the register.
The rest of the bar fades away. Duke’s back stretches as he leans over to hear the next order. He fills the shot glasses like it’s an art form. A drop of rum lands on his thumb, and he slips it into his mouth. My pulse pumps wildly at the sight. His jeans are snug, showing off his lean but muscular thighs.
“Choosing to open a bar was an easy decision because of him,” Derks says.
“What did you say?” I ask, my gaze glued to Duke. He and Lydia dance around each other, somehow avoiding collisions, even at their neck-breaking speed.
“You asked me the real reason I opened Murphy’s.”
“I’m so embarrassed,” I apologize. “I wasn’t listening.”
“He distracts you,” Derks observes.
Like a whip, I flick in Derks’ direction. “What do you mean?”
“You two have this weird fire between you.”
“There is no fire.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Whatever you say.” A skeptical smirk slips onto his face. “I’m just pointing out what I notice. I could be wrong.”
Derks heads towards the DJ booth. I follow him when he waves me on. He whispers in the DJ’s ear and almost runs into me on his way back to the bar.
“What do you mean, there’s a fire between us?” The better question is how does Derks know how I feel when Duke’s around?
The gap between us grows smaller. Deliberate steps bring him to right in front of me.
“Have you ever been to a bonfire, Charlotte?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His nearness is primal. He’s hunting, and I’m his prey. “You know that moment where you step close to the flames, and the heat hits your bare skin?” Under his verbal assault, I still as he tilts his head to the side and grazes his lips along the sensitive skin above my collar bone. I’m not attracted to Derks a single bit, but damn, that man can cast a spell. “It’s damn good. A relief you never knew you were in desperate need of.”
In one single moment, Derks peppermint breath is fanning over my skin, and then, in the next, he’s disappeared into thin air. My skin chills from his absence.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Duke shoves Derks in the chest. His words shake me loose from the spell Derks put me under.
Derks’ snicker only pisses Duke off more.
“Seriously, Derks, what the fuck were you doing?” Duke looks down to where I stand closely beside him. Never had there been a second where I thought Derks would hurt me in any way. He’s not the kind of guy, but he didn’t do what he did for his own pleasure. He did it to get a rise out of Duke. They stand toe to toe while I’m a step behind, shaking in fear of what one of them will do next.
“Proving a point.” He cups Duke’s cheek, patting it twice. “She’s been eyeing the dance floor all night.”
Derks heads back to the bar, leaving Duke and me alone. Well, besides the room full of people, but somehow, we seem to be in our own world. This is a feeling I’m not sure of, but an awareness I’m growing used to.
“Do you want to dance?” Duke fidgets, glancing over his shoulder to the dance floor before placing his hand over mine.
“You and me?” I stupidly ask. Of course, he means him and me.
Fuck. Do I want to dance? Maybe. I shouldn’t. But dammit, the way his hand holds onto mine, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go, makes me ready to do whatever he asks.
“I’m not asking you to donate a kidney, Char.” He smirks. “It’s a dance. Don’t think too hard.”
“Only my friends call me Char,” I joke to drain the strange vibe between us.
Duke licks his bottom lip. I’m instantly curious what it tastes like.
His eyes darken. “We are friends.”
“We are?” I take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
“What else would we be?”
“And friends dance, so it’s okay if we...”
“Dance,” he finishes my thought.
In this exact moment, I yearn to have his body against mine. There is no protest when the song changes, and he takes my hand in his. The rhythm is steady but slow. Our bodies know instinctively what to do with the other’s. The beat and lyrics together, a perfect mix of seduction and action, force us into autopilot. We don’t second guess. We move, gracefully, with each other.
Duke’s warm hands skim low onto my hips, and we sway. At the first movement, my heart punches in my chest. My body steps into his, begging to be closer. I close my eyes and wrap my arms loosely around his neck. His breath feathers through my hair and hits my skin. This is what Derks meant. The fire, it builds between us, and like most fires, it’s impossible to stifle.
A small peek is all I need. I’m desperate to see his face. Is he enjoying this? Or is this some obligatory pity dance?
His eyes are shut, but when I finally build up enough nerve, they open. “Ask me.”
“Ask you, what?” I grind my hips into Duke’s, and he moans.
“I didn’t ask you to dance because of Derks. I asked you because the first time you stepped foot in here, you eyed the dance floor with envy.” He recalls the night we ‘officially’ met. His hand on my hip pulls me in closer, and he follows my lead. “You got really drunk on tequila, and all inhibition went out the window. You were gorgeous, so damn carefree.”
“As opposed to any other day when I’m hideous?” I lean back to look in his eyes. They’re truthful even when he does his best to lie.
“You’re far from hideous. On your worst day, you put all these girls to shame, Charlotte.” He takes a deep breath, collecting himself. “You danced your ass off. Not a damn care in the world. Sort of like right now.”
I glance down between us and realize there is zero space between our bodies, and they’re moving like they were born to be connected. My sober mind tells me to put distance between him and me. Nothing good can come of these emotions he brings out. The problem is I want to experience these things. I’m like a prisoner stuck in jail for a lifetime. There’s a desperate urge to feel everything, to experience what life has to offer.
“He doesn’t dance with me,” I whisper and step away as the song comes to an end. Almost simultaneously, his touch is missed.
“That’s a shame.” Duke wraps his hand gently around my wrist. I step back into him and breathe in his scent. My head rests on his chest. The softness of the next song is perfect for the moment. Others find their way to the dance floor, cocooning Duke and me in a small section of the dance floor. Hidden from the outside world, we’re safe from judgement.
“I’m used to it.” For the first time, I hear weakness behind my words.
“You deserve to be danced with.” He stares down at our bodies, and I follow. We’re linked in a way I hadn’t realized I was in desperate need of. “You deserve honesty.”
“What else do I deserve?” My words are desperate, and not an ounce of me is ashamed. I want to know what Duke sees when he looks at me, who he thinks I am, and pray that he’s right.
“A girl like you, Charlotte” —he sighs, resting his forehead against mine— “deserves to feel like the only girl in the room. You are deserving of a lifetime of goodnight kisses and laughter. You deserve to be turned inside out from a single touch.” His ring skims down my arm, and I practically come undone in front of him.
I glance up, and like magnets, we connect. His head dips low until his lips are on my earlobe. He sucks the small patch of skin into his mouth. When he releases it, the pop rings through my head.
“Holy shit.” Is it hot in here?
“Just in case I never have another chance to find out what you taste like.” He steps back and disappears into the crowd, leaving me in the middle of the dance floor. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach, and I step forward to race after him, but know nothing good will come of it.
I press through the crowd and lean against the bar. Duke is nowhere in sight, but dammit, I’m looking for him. Derks smiles and shoves off his spot to stand in front of me.
“That fire I was telling you about? You just threw a stick of dynamite on it.” The gleam in his eye is bright and shiny.
Derks leaves me alone once again. I take a seat in Lydia’s section, disgruntled and sexually frustrated. We don’t know much about each other, but she and Rachel are becoming fast friends.
“What can I get you, sweet girl?” Lydia smiles. From anyone else, the term of endearment would come across as an insult, but from her, it’s sincere.
“Tequila with a lime, please,” I order, resting my chin on my clenched fist.
“Oh boy, tequila is the heartbreak drink, the one we girls go to when shit is messy.”
“Beyond messy,” I offer, picking up the glass she places in front of me. It burns but refreshes my taste buds on the trip down my throat.
“How’s Jacob doing?” she asks. My eyes widen at her question. His name, once again, is like ice water on a fire.
“You know Jacob?” I fiddle with the lime, gliding it around the rim of the cup. It leaves a tart trail of juice for me to enjoy.
“Everyone knows Jacob.” Her eyes burn into me, begging me to understand something my brain isn’t capable of at this moment.
“He and Duke are friends,” I state.
“Sure are.” Lydia mops the spot in front of me. Her defense isn’t for Jacob, though. Her worries are for Duke.
I down the rest of my drink. “I’m fucking this all up, aren’t I? I’m such an asshole.”
“You aren’t an asshole.” Lydia pours me another drink.
“You have no idea” —I down the entire drink like a shot— “of the thoughts I’m having.”
“If I knew you were going to shoot it back like that, I’d have put it in a smaller glass, girl.” She holds up a shot glass and slams it on the bar top.
“Have you ever wanted someone so bad, but you knew it was a horrible idea?” Lydia is an outsider to my world, but she makes me feel safe.
At my question, Lydia’s gaze shifts behind my back. I follow her trail.
“Randy?” I blurt out. “You have a thing for Randy?”
“Do you have to scream it out loud?” She laughs. “And you’re one to talk. You have a boyfriend in a coma and a heart-on for his friend.”
“Did have a boyfriend in a coma.” I roll the glass from side to side.
“What?” Lydia’s eyelids droop, and she checks me over. “Girl, tequila hit you quick. Jacob’s still in a coma.” She offers a kind smile. “I get it, I really do, Charlotte. You’re in a hard place.” She sets two shot glasses between us and pours tequila to the rims. We each take one and clink them together.
“Thank you.” I lift my shot glass up and pour it down my throat, swallowing the burning liquid.
Lydia kindly fills my glass. No words are exchanged, like she knows I need just enough tequila to feel the warmth, but no conversation. After what happened with Duke and me on the dance floor, a breather is necessary.
The staff bustles around the bar, sweeping and lifting chairs onto the tables. I pull out my phone to see the time and drop it back into my clutch. How’d it get so late?
Derks and Lydia wipe the leftover spills off the bar and count down the cash drawers. Their wandering glances make me anxious. I spin the glass one way and reverse it to the other, aimlessly distracting myself from finding Duke.
He’s somewhere under this roof.
Is he wondering how I’m feeling? Because I sure as hell am wondering how he feels after our impromptu dance. Did his heart still race minutes after we released each other? I suck my bottom lip into my mouth at the thought of his lips on my earlobe. That boy is capable of destroying me.
Lydia carries three cups in her hands and goes to sit them down, but trips over something on the floor. She staggers into Duke’s chest, and liquid covers the front of his shirt.
“Oh shit, Duke. I’m so sorry,” Lydia apologizes. Mortification covers her cheeks in a pink shade. She yanks a rag from her apron and dabs his shirt.
“It’s all good, Lyd.” He gently places his hand on hers to stop her. “I’m heading out anyway.”
“If you’re headed out, why don’t you drop Charlotte off at home?” Derks recommends. His smirk spreads wider and wider as Duke stares at him like he’s just kicked a child’s dog.
Fuck you, too, then, Duke Anderson. Maybe I don’t want a ride from you. I’m not too drunk to miss the hidden message. He’s not pleased with Derks offering up his services.
“I can drive,” I argue.
“Sweetheart, I know you can outdrink most grown men, but it’s probably best.” Lydia pats my hand. Her eyes scream out in apology because, even though we don’t know shit about each other, she still knows this thing with Duke is slowly killing me.
“Come on, bar star.” The humor in Duke’s voice causes my heart to hiccup. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’m not even that drunk.” I protest, tucking my clutch under my arm and waving to Derks and Lydia over my shoulder.
“Bye, love.” Derks grins.
Duke’s hand rests comfortably low on my back, guiding me out into the parking lot. His truck is in the first spot, and he politely opens the door, no words and minimal eye contact, as I slip by him into the seat. He hates me. I pushed him.
Nothing could’ve stopped me from moving into him on the dance floor. The way his hands touched my hips had me weak. His scent still lingers on my tank top.
“You don’t mind if I stop by my place, do you?” Duke asks, driving through the nearly empty side streets.
“No, that’s fine.”
“It’s just my shirt is wet, and I’d like to get the leftover beer off my skin.”
“I said it was fine.” Whoa! Hello, snarky bitch. I contemplate apologizing, but he shows zero reaction to my attitude.
The lines painted on the road pass by at a rapid speed. If I swing this door open and roll, what are the chances of minimal physical damage to my body? A broken bone would hurt less than this awkward silence.
“I’ll just stay here,” I announce, staring out the window.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He waves to me through the front window, and with a loud groan, I get out and follow him into his apartment.
The smell of his cologne accosts me when his front door opens. Jesus! This is freaking torture. Does he spray it like air freshener? I inhale deeply, gaining his attention.
“You okay?” With one hand, he tugs on the back of his shirt. The material skims over his soft skin until it’s free and thrown into the hamper resting beside his couch. His eyes erupt with desire.
“What are these?” I push past him, needing a break from his sculpted body. I run my fingertips over the stack of colorful hardcover children’s books.
Duke takes large steps until he’s beside me. His chest bumps my arm.
Keep still. Don’t show him how badly you want to feel the rest of him against you.
“Don’t look so surprised.” Duke’s voice is low, a seductive whisper in my ear. His capable fingers brush my hair over my shoulder. A delightful chill runs through my body. Keep touching me. Please don’t stop.
“There’s more to me than tattoos and a poor attitude, Charlotte,” he says when I don’t say anything, struck stupid with silence. His tongue jets out, wetting his bottom lip.
Duke Anderson is a fucking dream. I’ve seen gorgeous men before. They aren’t something new to me. Hell, I’ve spent half of my life with one, but nothing compares to the specimen standing in front of me.
“Can you stop looking at me like that?” In a flash, my eyes bounce to his bare chest and back to his face with his perfectly chiseled cheek bones and jaw.
“Like what?” His words are as smooth as satin and settle right in the pit of my stomach.
“Like you want to eat me up.” The pads of my fingertips run along his jaw. Curiosity is a real hellcat.
Duke’s hand grips tightly around my wrist, stopping my perusal. The pain is surprisingly heady and centers me, bringing me back into the moment.
“What if I do? What if touching you is all I ever think about?”
His words immediately hit me between my legs. Keep yourself under control, Charlotte. Shit, he’s looking at my chest. Deep steady breaths. What the fuck am I talking about? There’s no controlling this. Your body wants what it wants. There’s no derailing this train, no matter what my head tells me.
“What are you waiting for?” Well, there goes the last ounce of my resolve.
Being with Duke, connected to him, would be like driving down the highway in the wrong direction. It’s exhilarating, sure, but you take the risk at a crash and burn.
Duke takes one small step, closing the little space between us, and pushes my body backwards. His hands hold firm to my hips. We become a mixture of limbs and lips and fall to the couch. His body presses on top of mine, the perfect pressure between my legs. Fuck. I’m about to break a world record for undressing. I spread them to make room for his large frame, and heat seers my skin. Perfection. I sigh at the sensation. The softness of his lips on my neck skates up to my jawline, and I shudder.
He lifts up on his forearms, and his eyes watch me like he’s seeing me for the first time. I slip from underneath him, needing a moment to breathe. My back hits the wall. A beautiful pain shoots up my spine.
How did we go from practically having sex on the dance floor, to clear avoidance, to this moment? Both of our chests rise and fall with anticipation and fear.
“We shouldn’t,” I mutter. Shut up, head. We want this. Let us have this.
Duke stands, stalking over to me like a lion on the savannah stalks a helpless zebra. He takes my hand, kissing the sensitive skin at the base of my thumb. His emerald eyes wait for my reaction. My expression is steel, but my inside is melting.
“You’re my own personal hell, Charlotte.” The coolness of his ring bites at my jaw, until his hand wraps around the side of my neck, holding me in place. “You’re a temptress, and I’m not afraid to admit you’re probably right, but dammit, what if you’re fucking wrong?”
Duke tilts his head, kissing the corner of my mouth. There’s no use pulling away. This is where I’m meant to be. My head has no chance in winning when my heart calls out for him.
No words are needed. He wraps his hand around mine, and I skim my feet along the carpet, following him back to the couch. I’m weightless.
Boldly, I tuck my fingertips into the waistband of his jeans. Slowly, his fingers grip the hem of my shirt and peel it off. The silky material tingles as it glides over my skin. Duke is like my own personal Ecstasy. Everything is intensified by his presence. I’m aware of every move he makes, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
Duke traces his finger along the lace edges of my bra. A wave of chills hit me, immediately followed by warmth and agony. With his hands on my waist, he backs me up until my calves hit the couch and we fall back. I pop the button of his jeans and push the fabric until they hit the floor. He lifts my skirt until his hard length brushes against my core.
“God dammit, is that all for me?” Duke whispers in my ear, rocking against my center, feeling my arousal through my thong.
This is the moment I expect to feel a rush of embarrassment, but it never rears its ugly head.
He pulls my hands above my head, and I squeal. He clasps them in one of his own. I squirm, excited to feel his hand cupping me. His palm rocks against my clit. The beautiful pain radiates from my stomach to the tips of my manicured toes.
“Holy shit.” I don’t recognize my own voice. Sultry and determined. Of its own accord, like a shock to the body, my back arches. Fuck. He pushes his hard length against me. “Don’t stop,” I blurt, jerking my hands free. I need to touch him.
Like a bull at the rodeo, my hips buck as he begins to kiss me. Duke awakens a beast inside of me, and I don’t want her to fall asleep any time soon.
“Take them off,” I demand through our connected lips, running my trembling fingertips along the edge of his boxer briefs.
“Are you sure?” He pulls back to make sure I’m not just saying these things in the heat of the moment, but truly mean them. I nod, taking in his bright smile as he watches me writhe beneath him.
Duke stretches to his jeans and pulls out his wallet. The crinkling of plastic urges me to fully undress him. My hands push at the waistband of his boxer briefs until they’re far enough down to be discarded. There’s no time to second guess or doubt my decision. He’s hard and exposed. The pain to touch him aches from my fingertips to between my legs. Boldly, I reach between us and run my hand over his silky length. He hisses, pulling my panties from my body. They slip down my thighs until they dangle from my foot, and I flick them to the floor.
He’s quick to shield himself. We need each other, and we’re eager to know what the other feels like. His tip flirts with my center, and my body responds with a shudder. He smirks, knowing what he does to me. With a welcomed ache, he enters me.
Like a song, Duke keeps a steady rhythm between our bodies. When he senses me tipping over the edge, he reaches between us and rubs one finger against my clit, and I fall over the cliff into oblivion. Gratification overcomes me, and I come undone, my entire body clenched until every muscle relaxes with my release.
“Jesus. Fuck.” Duke pushes up, slowing his pace. “Please promise to always make that face when you come.”
I lift my hips, grinning at him. There’s a satisfaction in knowing I’m driving him out of his damn mind with my body. Duke straightens his back, resting my legs on his hips, and rocks in and out of me with a hot fury until he reaches his own satisfaction. He falls, his entire weight on my small frame, but I don’t mind the pressure because it’s him. Every inch of him covers me, until we are frantically escaping into each other.
With precision, he slips from between my thighs, kissing along my jaw and down my neck. His lips pause on my collarbone, licking the skin above my breast. Through his thick eyelashes, he gazes at me with all his after-sex hotness. His head dips low, and he circles his tongue around my left nipple before moving to the other, not wanting to neglect it.
“Stay the night?” Duke whispers. His breath tickles my skin.
“I’ll be damned.” I giggle. “Did Duke Anderson just ask a girl to stay the night?”
“Not just a girl. The girl.”
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Holy hell fucking shit.
THE GIRL!
Did I hear him correctly? The way he spoke, it sounded a lot like... Don’t say it. Hope is easily killed. It’s best to act natural and not like my heart is racing like a damn stallion on the open plain.
I take a mental picture of Duke lifting off me, holding out his hand to help me up from the couch, and guiding me back to his bedroom.
“Do we regret this?” he whispers in my ear, sobering me from whatever brand of magic happened moments before. His breath touches my neck like a secret neither of us wants to keep.
I still at his question and turn to face him. His green eyes darken. The fact he’s willing to be vulnerable and even ask the question makes me know this wasn’t a mistake.
“I could never regret you, Duke.”
As if he knows I need a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t try to make it more than what it is. His instinct is what I appreciate most about him. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me back into his chest. Slumber comes easy, and for the first time, I don’t have a single worry on my mind. The tension that’s held me so tight releases me.