“I find it to be one of your more endearing qualities, that and your ability to hunt down a killer shoe sale.” Charlie shook her head and giggled. “You’re certifiable, do you know that?”
“And you’re crazy.” Mikki stood up. “But, I love you anyway.” She grabbed a bottle of Green Machine from the fridge. “I’ve got to head out to yoga. Maybe you can help me talk some sense into Aaron later.”
“Sure thing, Mik,” Charlie answered.
“Oh, and Charlie? Go to the salon and have them try that updo I was telling you about. Your hair is out of control if it’s down.”
“Um yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
***
Later that evening, Charlie stepped into the bathroom of the restaurant to dab some water on a wine stain. She’d been clumsy with her wine and ended up with a few drops on her blouse. Declan had met her at Tin Angel and they had grabbed a bite to eat.
When she emerged from the ladies’ room, she made her way toward Declan who stood in front of the bank of elevators. He stood there with a casual grace, his hands in his pockets, his charcoal gray suit straining in all the best possible ways, reminding her of his rock hard body. He turned to face her. Damn. She walked toward him trying like hell to remain steady on her heels, savoring the look of pure carnal desire on his face.
She could focus on nothing else as she passed by the long, elegant bar and the ’restaurant’s patrons, but a face in the crowd caught her attention. Charlie stopped in her tracks, suddenly gripped by an all-consuming panic that sucked the sound from the overcrowded space. Her heartbeat ratcheted out of control. An icy pain pushed its way through her, seizing her body.
Charlie steadied herself on the wall beside her, seemingly unable to move forward while the face of the man she recognized turned in her direction as if he sensed her watching him.
Dressed in a tailored suit, he looked like anyone else waiting for a table, but Charlie knew better. After a few seconds, his face twisted into a smile as recognition dawned. He remembered her. After four years of looking over her shoulder, never knowing when she might see him again, she had come to believe she never would. He was a ghost, a memory so excruciating that Charlie had spent years trying to convince herself that he had never existed. Yet here he was, a living nightmare come back to haunt her. Charlie vaguely remembered hearing Declan call her name before he was at her side, taking her by the arm. He came into focus and she tried in vain to mask the fear that plagued her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his face lined with concern.
“Nothing.” Charlie caught his hand, pulling him into the open elevator.
***
Returning to the warmth of Declan’s new home, Charlie made herself at home at the bar. She filled a lowball glass to the brim with ice and some amber liquor from one of the bottles in Declan’s collection. Charlie sank into the sofa and pressed the cool glass against her forehead, trying to freeze out the frenzied thoughts that had taken over. She wanted to banish them, to forget they ever existed. She wanted to wash them away. Charlie took a gulp from her glass to hasten them on their journey.
She shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t be alone right now. Charlie needed a distraction, and she knew Declan would provide just that. He sat next to her on the sofa and took the glass from her hand.
“Talk to me please,” Declan said.
Charlie stared past him, giving him nothing. Sharing all of her past with Declan wasn’t something she was ready to do. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it. You looked like you’d witnessed a crime earlier.”
“I was remembering one.” Charlie regretted those words the moment she spoke them.
Her body tensed with a new sort of fear. Declan would never look at her in the same light again once he knew the truth.
Silent, he waited for Charlie to continue. She picked the glass up from the table and forced the rest of the drink down, praying for the relief it promised. How could I possibly explain how naïve I’d been? How could I explain that the man I spotted tonight took my submission and turned it into something ugly and painful?
“I’m broken. I’m no good for you, for anyone.”
“Stop.” The authoritative sting in his voice gave Charlie some pause.
“Stop, what?”
“You aren’t broken, Charlotte.”
Charlie swallowed hard, wishing she could believe him. “I’m just stating the obvious. It makes zero sense for you to want to be with someone … like me. Anyway, you should be dating a political princess or some model, not me.”
“How many times do I need to state this? I’m only interested in you.”
“It’s crazy. Look at me. I’m a mess.”
“I do. Every moment I can get, actually. You’ve been driving me crazy lately. I can barely sleep at night.”
“And now?”
“Now I have you. No wedding whacko sister. No guy-crazy coworkers. And you’re trying to come up with every reason to scare me off. If you think this changes anything, you’re quite mistaken.”
Charlie looked away, helplessly fighting the onslaught of fresh tears. When Declan pulled her onto his lap, she went willingly, wanting to feel him close again. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, cocooning her in arms, close to his chest.
“You’re an incredible woman.”
“How can you say that?”
“For starters, because it’s the truth. Charlotte, one horrible experience doesn’t define who you are. If it did, I doubt you’d want to be with me either.”
“But, I do.” Charlie’s hand slid over his shirt to feel his heart’s slow, steady rhythm. Suddenly her feelings for Declan began to overwhelm the powerful memories from her past.
He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her fingertips. Inch by inch, he caressed her with a quiet tenderness until the numbness melted and gave way to a warmth simmering below the surface.
His smell, his taste, his hunger—Charlie craved them all. She was ravenous for him. Declan shifted her so she straddled him, melding their bodies together. A hushed whimper escaped her lips at the contact and fervency of his movements. Then he stopped.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
“I’m wound too tight right now.” He swallowed hard, the notch in his throat bobbing with the action.
Charlie wanted to kiss him there, but first she needed to figure out what was going on. “And I don’t care. I want you.” She wanted him more than ever. She shifted, unable to ignore the growing ache between her thighs.
“God, I want you too, I just don’t want to lose control. I’m afraid I will hurt you.”
“I’m not going to break. I promise.”
She trailed her fingers down Declan’s chest following the path of buttons that disappeared under the band of his pants. She reached for the clasp, but before Charlie could release him, Declan caught her wrists, holding them steady while he breathed hard.
“I want to feel you lose control, Declan.” Her body pulsed. She wanted nothing more than for him to take her the way he wanted to, the way she needed him to.
***
It felt very late or perhaps very early when Charlie opened her eyes. It was still dark and she curled up under the duvet, all restraints gone. The music Declan had playing was off, and he was not in bed next to her. She tried to stretch but found all her muscles stiff. Charlie’s head even hurt a bit as she sat up. The cozy comforter fell away and she glanced around at Declan’s now shadow-filled bedroom. How long have I been sleeping?
It took her a moment to realize Declan was in the room with her. He was sitting in a leather chair, a glass of what she presumed to be scotch cradled in the palm of his right hand as he watched her. There was enough light in the room for Charlie to discern that he was wearing an unbuttoned dark shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the sides hanging open to reveal that sexy smattering of dark chest hair. His legs were clad in dark rinse jeans and his feet bare.