Chapter Four

Charlie

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but listening to that shit about Mariah’s ex has my mind racing. How do I act like a civilized man when all I want to do is knock out her ex, and why do we give a fuck about what her mother thinks about any of it? She’s clearly got poor fucking judgment.

I lean against the window and pop a bit of caulk in all four corners before smoothing the beads down with my finger. The windows need to be replaced, but this will have to do until I can get some ordered. I’m not sure when this became my responsibility, but I can’t see any way around it now. I need to take care of Mariah, at least until Chevy comes back. I’ve just gotta figure out a way to keep my hands off her while I do it.

That’s probably easier said than done. It took everything in me not to offer her a hug after hearing all the drama she’s been through. And now, staring at a pair of thin cotton panties hanging from her dresser drawer, I know there’s no way it would stop there.

This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t give a fuck about some young girl’s panties. I shouldn’t give a fuck about any of my employees’ underwear. Yet, here I am, cock hard, wondering what that pair smells like.

The bedroom door creaks and footsteps move behind me. “You ran off without pie. I figured you’d want some.” Mariah settles a plate on the end of the old wooden dresser where the panties are hanging. She blocks the drawer and stuffs them back in as though she’s being sly. “So, ugh,” her cheeks are red as she says, “what do you think? Any chance I get this place perfect before the baby comes?”

I glance around the room, taking in the splintered floors, the cracked window, and the door that looks like it doesn’t even close fully. Honestly, she’s screwed. This whole house needs a full refurbish, not winterizing. That said, I remember when my cousin was pregnant, and someone told her they didn’t think she was ready to have a baby. I thought she was going to stab them on the spot. “Nah, we can make it work.” I’m not entirely sure how we’ll make it work, but I know I couldn’t do any of it with knife wounds.

I set the caulk gun on the dresser and reach for the pie plate, balancing the fork as I sit on the edge of her bed. “Thanks for bringing this in. Sorry I left so abruptly. I hadn’t realized how late it was getting.”

She sits with me and tries to cross her legs, but she’s awkward as she moves. She looks like she’s in a constant state of trying to get comfortable.

Honestly, though, fuck this pie. I wish she was the dessert. The little dress she’s wearing is creeping up at her thighs and it’s showing off a tattoo on her outer leg. I didn’t peg her for the inked-up type.

“You have that done in town?”

She leans to the side and lifts her skirt further up her leg, displaying a giant cross with flowers surrounding it. “Yeah, Penelope over at Rugged Mountain Ink did it for me a few years back.”

“Mean something special or you just like the art?”

“I wanted a reminder to live my best life and to know that there was always someone watching over me, ya know?” She rolls down her dress. “What about you? You get yours in town, too?”

“Yeah, but most of these were done by the old school artists. Henry, Maddox, Izzy, and all of it was just shit I liked at the time. No real meaning.”

“I want to go back when the baby is born and get his or her name under the cross.”

“You picked a name yet?”

“If it’s a girl I’m thinking Sabrina, and for a boy,” she shrugs, “not sure yet.”

“Charlie’s a good name.” I grin, shoveling the sweet, spiced pie in.

“I hear it is.” She leans up from the bed and winces before settling down again. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just a nerve in my back that keeps getting compressed. I get this shooting pain down my leg, and ugh… I know I’m going to love this baby, but pregnancy is like having an alien growing inside of you that’s taking your calories and telling you when it’s time to piss.”

“Turn around and I’ll rub your back for you.” The words come out before I’ve fully thought them through. I’m pretty sure I have my dick to thank for that. It’s currently set to full sail and I’m sure it thinks that rubbing her down will lead to something more than it will. I consider apologizing for the statement, but she’s nodding her head before a second thought.

“Oh, yeah! I mean… that sounds nice, but you’re already doing so much. I didn’t say something just to add another chore to your list.”

You didn’t, but it’s what I hoped for.

“I’m right here, and we should get comfortable with touching each other anyway, given the circumstances tomorrow and all. We want our relationship to look real.”

“Right.” She nods again and I guide her into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “You don’t need to convince me.” She grins. “We do have all the lies we’re telling to think about.”

I laugh with her, and head to the attached bathroom to wash my hands quickly. I’m not sure what the hell is happening but I’m excited for it.

I land my hands on the back of her neck and slide down the tops of her smooth shoulders. Lord, she’s perfection. Her soft skin, her silky hair, the way she moans as my hands rub against the muscle. “This level of pressure okay?”

She hums and rolls her neck to the side as she says, “Oh, God… yes. That’s great. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Judging by the ache in her voice, I can guess she needed it quite a bit. I roll my hands down over her shoulders and lean her forward slightly, dragging down either side of her spine as she moans loudly again.

Fuck!

My cock drives forward to attention and my willpower leaves in droves until my hands are all over her and she’s groaning.

“You sound like you’re in pain.”

“Not right now, I’m not.” She moans as she rolls her neck down and says, “You’re really good with your hands. That, or the hormones are worse than I thought they were.”

“Hormones?”

“Yeah. These pregnancy hormones are the worst. One second, I’m crying over literal spilled milk, and three minutes later, I’m hornier than a jack rabbit in spring. It’s that bad.”

What the fuck is happening, and why do I like it? Why do I want to keep the conversation going? Why do I want her to tell me all the filthy ways she’s pleased herself?

“That’s gotta be difficult,” I groan, “especially without a partner to take the edge off.”

Fuck, I just don’t quit.

She rolls her neck to the side and moans again, this time softer. “You have no idea.”

My hand slides onto her shoulder blade and my thumb rolls down over her neck, working the small muscles that have knotted against the base of her scalp. Maybe if I keep moving, keep touching her, keep breathing her in, I can bank it all to think about when I’m alone later.

That’s the plan, but while I work, her silky soft hair gets tangled in my fingers and only invigorates whatever cinnamon scent is on her.

Fuck. My cock is rock hard, and my throat is dry, desperate to lick her up.

“So, how do you… take care of yourself?”

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She stays still for a moment, then looks up toward the ceiling, hesitating as though she isn’t sure how to answer the question.

I don’t blame her. It’s a stupid fucking question I shouldn’t have asked.

I’ve fucked this up. I should’ve stayed classy. Instead, I let my fucking cock get in the way, and now I’m pretty sure I’m sexually harassing an employee.

“Oh, well… I flip to some fantasy of a big, strong man with his hands all over me, and I rub one out. Well, my vibrator does the heavy lifting. I lay back and let it all happen. Honestly, I don’t know what women did before vibrators.” She clears her throat. “I’ve never met a man that can satisfy me, and doing it manually isn’t nearly as good.”

“What do you mean you’ve never met a man who can satisfy you?”

She turns back and stands, staring toward me with dark red cheeks. “I mean exactly what I said. I’ve never met a man who could satisfy me.”

“So, no orgasms… ever? ”

She bites back a grin. “Not with a guy.”

Damn. I swallow hard and stare blankly ahead, trying to ignore the way her lips have parted, the sight of her chest as it rises and falls, the hardness of her nipples as they pebble beneath her shirt.

Suddenly, I want to know how many men she’s been with. Who’s touched her? Who’s laid next to her? Whoever they are, I want to murder them, then lay her back and show her exactly what pleasure feels like. I want her grinding against my beard, bouncing on my cock, creaming all over me.

“Anyway,” she sighs, “that feels too good, and all this talk has me hot and bothered, so I better get out of here and let you get back to work.” She pulls her sweater back up onto her shoulders, and though I know she wants to walk away, I smell her arousal.

I should let her leave. A good man would. He’d nod politely, and she’d leave the room, go about her business, and everything would return to normal. I’d fix the windows and work on the flooring. Then, we’d go to the wedding tomorrow, I’d play my part, and no one would be the wiser.

Instead, I reach for her arm, pull her into my orbit, stare down into her dark brown eyes, and say something more aggressive than anything I’ve ever said to anyone. “Lay back and let me take the ache away.”

For what feels like an eternity, she stares up at me and I wonder if there’s a smack coming to the side of my face. Lord knows I deserve it. I’m taking liberties I shouldn’t.

Her gaze lifts to mine and her lip’s part. “Confident one, aren’t you?”

“You don’t have to, but… if you do, I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What happens afterwards? Do we walk away like nothing happened? I’m not good at that. My face tells everything I’m thinking.”

I don’t want to walk away like nothing happened. I want to make her mine. I want to take care of her, watch over her, and make sure that baby is safe and warm. I want to fix up this house and be her permanent date. I want to be the man she should’ve been with to begin with.

Instead of saying any of that, I stare toward her and wrap my arms around her waist. “What if it wasn’t one night?”

She laughs. “Oh, now I know you’re crazy. Should we check that caulk gun? Are there side effects to huffing too much of it? I don’t want the baby getting sick. I sleep in here.”

I hold her against my chest. “I knew you were going to be trouble.”

“What?” Her cheeks turn pink again. “ I’m trouble?”

“Oh,” I groan, “you’re so much trouble. Look at you… with that cute little face, all that hair, and these hips.” I scan her body like she’s prey, and though I should feel like an asshole for doing it, any chance at rational thinking is gone.

She bites back a grin, so I keep going.

“You say you’ve been thinking about big, rough hands. Well, I’ve been thinking about you and that little round belly.” I push my hand over her stomach and lean into her neck, breathing her in. “Let me satisfy you.” My lips brush against her neck slowly, and I lose whatever bit of control I have left.

A soft moan leaves her lips, and she darts a wicked grin toward me. “You know… I think we could work something out.”

Fuck!