22. Charlotte

22

CHARLOTTE

I want to tell myself that I don’t know why I ran from Ivan today. But the truth is, I do know. And it’s the reason I ended up on the chat site tonight, talking to Venom, and getting myself off for the second time today.

Ivan terrifies me. Our date today was the best date I’ve had in a long time, and our dinner together—our first date—is in a close second after that. He’s sweet and charming and funny and so incredibly handsome that it’s hard to believe he’s real. When he kisses me, when he touches me, I feel things that I didn’t think existed in reality.

Things that make me do something like grind myself to an orgasm in a man’s lap after two dates, in a parking garage where anyone could have walked by and seen us.

I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ve gone from being the most boring person I know, sheltered and introverted and never, ever up for a good time, to someone who does things like that . To someone who finds herself online on the dark web at eleven o’clock at night, sending a stranger a filthy picture as she comes to the things he’s telling her he wants to do to her.

The kind of things that should scare me, and do, but also make me so wet, so needy, that I came almost as hard as I came for Ivan earlier.

And there’s that, too. Twice in one day isn’t a thing for me. I’ve never felt so aroused all the time, my mind filled with fantasies and needs that I’ve never had before, as if I unlocked a Pandora’s box of sexuality that night at Masquerade, and now it’s overflowing.

I feel almost obsessed with talking to Venom, with finding out what outrageous fantasy he’ll tell me, how far he’ll push it, how far I’ll let him. As I come down from the high of my orgasm, the fact of that obsession hits me, and I feel a wave of post-orgasm clarity and regret.

I send Ivan away for this. He was a gentleman today, a perfect date, everything I could have asked for and more. I felt how desperately he wanted me, rode his erection to a mind-bending orgasm, and then left him hanging. I could have taken him up to my apartment instead, had real , undoubtedly incredible sex, for the first time since Nate and I broke up. I could have him in my bed right now.

Instead I’ve been online, with a faceless man who could actually be anyone, digging deeper into a darker side of myself that I can’t seem to stop exploring. It makes me feel freer than I ever have before—but I also feel ashamed. Not of what I’m finding out that I want, but of the fact that I chose it over Ivan. He’s real , and this man isn’t. Not in any way that matters.

On impulse, as I come back from cleaning up, I grab my phone. It’s late, and I’m not sure Ivan will be up, but I call him anyway. To my surprise, he picks up almost immediately.

“Charlotte?”

“Hey.” I sink back onto my bed, unsure of what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

He chuckles. “You don’t need to worry. I’m a night owl. What are you doing?”

“Thinking about that apple pie we never actually tried. It’s on the counter—I felt bad trying it without you.”

“Is that your way of asking me out on another date?”

I bite my lip, toying with a loose thread on my duvet. “Maybe.”

“What if I said I wanted that date tomorrow?”

“I have brunch with my girlfriends on Sundays,” I tell him quickly. “I can’t ditch them. They’d never let me live it down, if I canceled on them for a man.”

“As well they should.” His voice is deep and rich, teasing, with that hint of a Russian accent that makes me feel shivery. “Is brunch all day?”

Something tightens in my stomach—I think I can hear something in his voice, a need that I can’t help but think I must be imagining. A man like Ivan wouldn’t need to see me again, but that’s what it sounds like. Like he doesn’t want to wait.

“No,” I say slowly, almost hesitantly. There’s something pinging in my head, a sense of alarm, something telling me that there’s danger here. But I think I know what that danger is.

I could lose myself to Ivan. My body, my emotions, my heart—they’re all in danger, because he’s something I’ve never encountered before. A man who seems to be everything I could possibly want, and it all feels too good to be true. “Maybe, like—until one or two in the afternoon?”

“What about a hike afterward, then? And dinner? Someplace more casual than the last dinner I took you to, since I know now you like that more.” There’s warmth in his voice as he suggests it, but I can still hear that need, as insane as it seems. “Maybe I can convince you to let me come up for a taste of that apple pie for dessert.”

I bite my lip, a jolt of heat going through me. I’m not sure he’s really talking about the pie. But that doesn’t stop me from whispering yes . It might even be part of the reason why I do.

“Yes,” I repeat. “That sounds nice. I can text you where we end up going for brunch tomorrow, so you can pick me up afterward. An easy hike, maybe,” I caution with a laugh. “I don’t know if I want to do anything crazy after mimosas.”

“Nothing crazy,” he promises. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

I stare at my phone for a long time after we hang up. I can’t help wondering if I should have agreed to the date, if I should have made him wait longer, if I should have made myself wait longer. I feel another jab of guilt as I think of Venom, and I wonder if I’m stringing Ivan along by doing this without committing to a relationship. I can still hear him in my head, telling me that once I figure things out, that will be it for us both. It was such a bold declaration, so final, like nothing any man has ever said to me before. No one has ever wanted me as much as Ivan seems to.

It’s what I thought I wanted—but it’s also terrifying, intense and scary, and it makes me want to run towards him and away from him all at once.

I wanted to give myself a chance to indulge this wild side that I’m discovering before I commit to a relationship again. And it’s not as if I’m stringing Ivan along with something that could ever be anything real. Venom will only ever be what he is—a name on a screen, a fantasy typed out a handful of words at a time.

Ivan said he’d let me do this at my own pace. That he’d be patient with my uncertainty.

Now, I’m starting to feel like I’m counting on that.

—

When I pick up my phone in the morning, getting ready for brunch, it’s not Ivan’s name that I see on the screen first. He’s there, his name followed by a quick good morning, sweetheart, I can’t wait to see you later —but it’s preceded by a string of texts from Nate, each one making my stomach drop further than the last.

Nate: I can’t believe you haven’t texted or called. Did five years really mean nothing to you?

Nate: It was just fucking sex, Char. Just sex with a whore I didn’t care about. And you threw our whole fucking relationship away over it.

Nate: You’re pathetic, honestly. Acting like a child, throwing me out of our apartment because you couldn’t handle me treating you with respect. Like a woman I wanted to marry instead of a fucking slut.

Nate: How many guys have you gotten on your knees for by now, anyway? Huh?

Nate: I’m fucking lucky I didn’t marry you, bitch. And I’m going to figure out how to get my apartment back. My name is on it, too, you stupid cunt. You can’t stay there much longer. Better hope I don’t find you bouncing on some other guy’s dick when I get back.

My face burns, and it takes everything in me not to respond. I haven’t been with anyone else, not actually—what Ivan and I did in his car is the furthest I’ve gone other than that night at Masquerade, in reality. That, and my nighttime chatting sessions with Venom is the extent of it. I haven’t fucked anyone since Nate left. No one else has actually been in my bed. And reading the messages, thinking that this was a man who once upon a time told me that he loved me, who I was planning on marrying, makes me feel sick.

“You’re better off knowing,” Jaz says at brunch, when I show her and Zoe and Sarah the messages. “At least now you know who he really is, there’s no chance of you going back to him.”

“That’s true. But it’s hard seeing someone’s true colors like that,” Sarah says, pushing a bite of her waffle around her plate. I know she’s thinking of Colin, who she told us called her all kinds of names in their last argument. “It’s tough matching that up with the person you used to know.”

“It makes me wonder if it’s even worth trying again.” I drop my phone next to my plate, my half-eaten croque madame sandwich staring up at me. “If someone can be normal for five years and then go insane like this—not to mention the cheating—how can I ever trust anyone? Maybe I shouldn’t bother.”

“This is about Ivan, isn’t it?” Zoe asks, and Jaz nods. She knows about my date today; I told her earlier.

“I’m going out with him after brunch.” I poke at the egg on top of my sandwich, watching the yolk run over the bread. “But maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe this is all pointless.”

“No,” Jaz says firmly. “Even if it all goes wrong with Ivan in the end, trying is the point. If you just close yourself off, then Nate wins. If he gets in your head that much, then he will have gotten what he really wants. You’ve got to shake it off and do what you want. And if it hurts in the end, it hurts. You get back on the horse.”

I cross my eyes at her playfully. “You don’t even know how to ride a horse.”

“Wrong,” Jaz says confidently. “I was quite the equestrian when I was a kid. Quit when I left for college.” There’s a momentary flicker of nostalgia on her face, and I look at her, surprised. I hadn’t thought there was anything about Jaz that I didn’t know.

“A girl has to have some secrets,” she says, seeing the look on her face. “A little mystery is good for all relationships, not just romantic ones.” She winks, filling up her mimosa glass. “Now, let’s get you good and drunk before you go hiking. Maybe Ivan will fuck you up against a tree.”

“Oh my god!” I gasp, just as Sarah and Zoe erupt in tipsy giggles.

I am a little buzzed when Ivan comes to pick me up. The girls can see him from the table we were sitting at, and I can see them leaning, getting a good look at him as he ushers me bemusedly to the car, opening the door for me before walking to the other side. He drove the Mustang again, and I feel a rush of heat, remembering what happened last time.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go hiking?” he asks, a slight smirk at the corners of his lips, and I groan.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, as he hands me a bottle of water. “A little tipsy, but I’ll sober up by the time we get there.”

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t entirely sound like he believes me, but he pulls out onto the road, and I start to gulp down the water, intent on proving him wrong by the time we get to the trail.

I do feel sober by the time we get there, and thankfully Ivan stuck to his promise, and picked one of the easy trails. It’s not so much a hike as a walking path fringed thickly with colorful trees, and I let out a relieved sigh as he opens my door for me, and I slide out of the car.

“Those leggings are distracting,” he murmurs, looking down at my tight dark grey leggings, covered by a long teal tunic sweater and paired with grey sneakers. “I’m going to walk behind you the whole way.”

“No you don’t,” I tease him, grabbing his hand, and I feel him tense briefly, as if he hadn’t expected me to. But he relaxes so quickly that I almost think I imagined it, and a moment later we head down the trail hand in hand, the air perfectly chilly, the leaves vibrant all around us.

“I could get used to this,” he says softly, his fingers rubbing against my hand, and I look at him with surprise.

“Walking?”

“No.” He rolls his eyes teasingly. “Spending time with you. Time like this, where things are quiet and relaxing, and I don’t feel like I have to think about anything else.” His thumb passes over my knuckles again. “You told me that you think you’re boring, Charlotte, but you—” He breaks off abruptly, looking away, and I have the sense that he was about to say something that he thought was too much. Something too emotional for what we are to each other right now.

“What?” I press, before I can stop myself. Something tells me that he was right to pump the brakes on whatever he was about to say, but now I want to know. I feel like I need to know. “You can tell me.”

He stops, turning towards me, looking down at me with those dark blue eyes that draw me in. “You’ll run if I do,” he murmurs, and I feel a shiver run down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

“Would you chase me?” I whisper, the words coming out more husky than teasing, and I see his eyes darken, his muscled frame looming over me as he reaches out, brushing his fingers over my cheekbone.

“Anywhere,” he murmurs, and what was sexual a moment ago suddenly seems terrifyingly romantic, my stomach knotting with apprehension. I want this, and I don’t, all at the same time—and I don’t know what to do with that.

“What were you going to say?” My voice sticks in my throat, and Ivan looks down at me with an expression I’ve never seen before.

“You’re not boring, Charlotte,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my cheekbone again. “You feel like home.”

His hand slides into my hair, tugging me up as his mouth comes crashing down onto mine, heedless of the still-healing cuts on his lips. I think I taste a hint of iron as he kisses me, giving the kiss a dangerous edge, my adrenaline spiking as my tongue slides against his. I feel him backing me up, his hands on my waist, and I burst into sudden laughter as my back hits a tree and I remember what Jaz said.

Ivan pulls back, the moment broken, his face confused. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, and I wince, thinking he’s going to be pissed at me for ruining the moment.

“Jaz said you might fuck me up against a tree,” I admit between giggles, and Ivan smirks, closing in on me again as he runs one hand down my waist to my hip.

“Would you like that, Charlotte?” he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine again. “Getting fucked out here in the open? I could pull those leggings down and bend you over, or strip you naked and wrap your legs around my waist, fuck you hard right here. You could walk back to the car full of my cum.” His hand drops lower, fingers sliding up my thigh. “Is that what you want?”

The fantasy is dangerously close to Venom’s promise to chase me through a dark orchard. I shouldn’t want it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m wet, wet enough that I start to worry I might soak through my leggings. I want Ivan to move his hand a little to the left, to press against the spot where I so desperately need it, and I pull away from him instead, my heart racing as I duck under his arm and step back. “Maybe,” I whisper, my arms wrapped around myself, and his expression changes from lustful to gentle as he sees the apprehension in mine.

“Maybe a bed, first.” He smiles at me, breaking the tension, and laces his fingers through mine again as we keep walking, the normalcy of the afternoon restored.

Except for the part where he told me that I felt like home. It turns over in my head, again and again, and I can’t stop thinking about it, long after the moment has passed.

—

By the time we get back from the trail, it’s late afternoon, and we’re both starving. We find a little pub not far away and stop for an appetizer of fried cheese, with burgers and beer for our meal, and not once does Ivan say anything about how I should watch how much fried food I eat. Instead, we scarf it all down, and when he drives me back to my apartment, I hesitate as he opens my door.

“You should come up for dessert,” I tell him. “That apple pie is still in the kitchen. We could watch a movie.”

I shower and change as quickly as I can, and come out in my shorts and a long t-shirt to find him in the kitchen, cutting slices of the pie. He turns, and I swear I can see the heat flash in his eyes as they travel all the way down, down to my feet, and back up again.

“This isn’t very sexy,” I say jokingly, almost apologetically, and Ivan frowns.

“You’re sexy in anything you wear.” He holds out a plate to me. “Trust me, Charlotte, I’m having just as hard of a time keeping my hands off of you while you’re wearing that as I was when you wore that sexy dress on our first date.”

I find that hard to believe, even though he sounds sincere. But I can feel the weight of his eyes on me as we settle in on the couch with our apple pie and mugs of cider that we’d bought at the orchard, and I put on Beetlejuice in the background. There’s nothing sexy about any of this, and yet I can feel him looking at me as if he wants to devour me.

As if he wants the taste of me more than anything else.

It reminds me of that night at Masquerade, of the man that I allowed to go down on me, a man I’ll almost certainly never meet or see again. But Ivan is giving me that same feeling, and it makes me feel tight and hot all over, like my skin is suddenly too small for my body.

I wonder if I should have let him come up. I have a feeling that things are going to go further tonight, and I won’t have the willpower to stop it again. But that raises the question—why do I want to? Sex isn’t a promise of forever. It’s just pleasure.

And I want to find out what kind of pleasure Ivan has in store for me.

I swallow hard, taking another bite of the pie. “This is good,” I mumble around a mouthful of sugary apple and buttery crust, and Ivan nods.

“It is. Thanks to you,” he reminds me, and I laugh.

“We’ll have to try our hand at some other types. Some kind of berry for Christmas, maybe—” I break off, realizing that I’ve basically suggested we’ll still be seeing each other in the winter, but Ivan doesn’t look the slightest bit startled by it.

“I’m all in,” he says with a grin, but there’s something deeper under those words. I can hear it, the same way that he said that’ll be it for us both, at dinner that first night.

Too soon to be saying things like that, but I think he meant it, all the same.

“Thank you for—all of this,” I say softly. “I know this isn’t really your vibe. The hiking and silly movies and eating pie. It’s probably not the kind of thing you usually do at all. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had a date who would do this kind of thing with me, so—” I shrug lopsidedly, and Ivan sets his plate aside, his hand resting on my bare knee.

“You’re right,” he says, and the movie fades into the background as his gaze locks with mine. “It’s not my usual thing. Not at all. But with you—I want it to be. I’ve been happier these past couple of days with you than I have been in a long time, Charlotte. And I don’t want it to end anytime soon.”

“Why would it?” I bite my lip, wondering why I asked him that, me, who has run away from him, who keeps insisting that there can be no exclusivity between us, not yet. But I want to know what reasons he might have.

He hesitates. “There are things I can’t tell you yet, Charlotte.”

“About your work? I remember you said it was confidential.”

Ivan nods, almost looking relieved. “Yes. But I—I care about you, Charlotte. More than I thought I could, in such a short time. And I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to stop seeing you, and I want—I want to see where this can go.”

The admission sounds vulnerable. He looks younger for a moment as he says it, almost hopeful, and I reach out, brushing my fingers over the back of his hand. “Would you ever lie to me?” The question comes out before I can stop it, the memory of the woman at the gala still in the back of my head. I think I see something strange on Ivan’s face for a brief second as I ask it, a sudden tightening of his expression, as if the question has upset him. But it clears so quickly that I think I might have imagined it, and he shakes his head firmly.

“No,” he says, leaning forward. He takes my plate out of my hand, setting it on the coffee table as he spills me backwards onto the pile of throw pillows on the couch, a plush ghost that I bought a few days ago suddenly trapped beneath my back. “I never would.”

The way he’s looking at me, with a sudden, almost desperate need, wrenches at something in my chest that has nothing to do with lust. My legs slide up around his, tangling around his hips, and he rocks forward, pressing against me as his mouth finds mine. My hands slide down his chest, lower, and he suddenly tenses, groaning with a sound that’s almost pain.

“Are you alright?” I pull back, and he nods, his jaw tight.

“Just my ribs. From the accident.” He tugs up his shirt with one hand, and just above his chiseled abs, I can see the blooming purple and yellow splotches of bruising across his ribcage.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, scooting back a little. Ivan shakes his head, looking down at me with that same need still in his eyes.

“You don’t need to apologize. A little pain wouldn’t stop me. But—” He hesitates, and I look at him, surprised. I know he wants me. But he looks unsure, and I push myself up to a sitting position, frowning slightly.

“Do you want to stop?”

“God, no.” He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “But I think—I think I probably should. I think you were right, Charlotte. We should take it slow.”

I’m so stunned I can’t speak. He leans forward, lightly kissing my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to turn my head into the kiss. “I should go,” he says quietly. “Before I make a liar out of myself.”

He stands up, and I want to protest, but I can’t. I did the same thing yesterday, and he let me go without an argument. I can’t do less now. But still—I wish he would stay.

“I can’t wait to see you again, Charlotte,” he murmurs. And then he grabs his jacket, striding towards the door, leaving me there on the couch, stunned.

This wasn’t at all how I expected the night to end.