Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

CHARLIE

“Let me hold you,” he whispered.

I tried to nod, but Tate had surrounded my face in his hands, treating me as though I was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

The moment he leaned closer, I gulped, my eyes leaving his, trailing to his lips.

“Char,” his voice broke, as he licked his lips.

“I—Tate—” On one hand, I knew what was coming, that I should stop it. On the other, I’d dreamed of this happening for far too many years. Sense prevailed and I lifted my hand, pressing my fingertips against his lips, then leaned my forehead against his. The kiss he pressed to my fingers elicited a full-body shiver running through me, heat pooling in my center. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered, rubbing my digits over the velvety moist heat of his bottom lip.

“I know,” he said against my touch before kissing my fingers again, then he shocked me further when he sucked the tip of my middle finger into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

Heat pooled low in my tummy, and a whimpered, “Oh God,” escaped me. The sensuality of the moment had my already weak resolve breaking altogether.

I leaned in, pressing my lips tenderly to the side of his mouth, moving my hand from his lips so it clasped the side of his face. Before my lips could meet the other side of his mouth, Tate slammed his lips down on mine.

He licked, then nipped, and when I gasped, he plundered.

My grip shifted from his face, clutching down on his wrists so I could ground myself. I was sure there would be crescent moon marks left on them by the time Tate Corbin released his hold on me. I allowed him to take what he needed, giving him everything I had. Everything that had been pent up in me since I’d been nothing but a mere girl.

“Christ,” Tate growled, peppering my cheek with kisses before he moved a hand to cradle the back of my head, the other to my back so he could hold me closer, before he dipped his head to nibble at my jaw. “You’re a fucking dream.”

I clutched at his broad shoulders, my head tilting back as I panted, “That’s my line.”

“Delicious,” he groaned right before he nipped at the tendon between my neck and shoulder, soothing his bite with his tongue, causing me to wriggle against the large bulge in his jeans. One of his large hands grabbed my ass and squeezed, encouraging me to keep moving against him. “Holy hell, woman, what you do to me.”

If he kept up his ministrations, I would certainly combust. As it was, I was embarrassingly drenched.

In the sexiest display of strength, I’d only read about in romance novels, Tate flipped us so I lay back on the sofa, connecting us from chest to pelvis as he made love to my mouth once more.

No longer having to worry about bracing myself on Tate, my hands began to explore, trailing down his back to his ass. I snuck my hands under the waist of his jeans, squeezing each cheek.

Tate jerked, thrusting his pelvis hard into mine, but lifted his head just enough to peek at me with a smirk. “So, it’s like that, huh?”

I shrugged, grinning and enjoying his flirty nature. “Tit for tat,” I singsonged.

Tate’s eyes gleamed at my words, his smirk turning into his own grin resembling that of the Cheshire cat. “Good idea,” he said in his rumbly voice, right before he lunged for my chest.

“Tate!” I shrieked as soon as he bit a hardened nipple right through my shirt and bra, my fingernails digging into his ass.

Tate hissed, but kept on his sensual torture, the heat from his mouth soaking through the cotton, causing me to arch into him. Then he switched to inflict the same sensuous torture to the other breast, while his hand reached and played with the one he’d just deserted, the other sneaking under the hem of my shirt.

My hands left his ass, reaching for his shirt, and tugged. In seconds, instead of backing away to remove his shirt like I reckoned he would, he moved from my tits, pressed a hard kiss to my mouth, and urged me to “Hold on.”

Next thing I knew, he’d picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, my hands clutching the back of his neck as he nuzzled my nose with his. “Bedroom,” he explained.

Tate

Hold a goddamn gun to my head, and I doubt I’d have been able to stop. That’s how lost I was in Charlie Adams.

At least I’d had the good sense to stop and bring her to my bed. A woman like her deserved to be treated with reverence, my full attention, and I’d be damned if I’d worship at her altar from my goddamn couch.

Setting Charlie down on the mattress, I stood and tore my shirt up and over my head.

Kneeling on the edge of the mattress, the woman who had me on the verge of bursting in my pants only moments ago smirked as she trailed her palms over my chest. “You make that look so easy.”

“What?”

“That thing only you men seem to know how to do when taking off your shirts,” she fanned her face. “It’s hot.”

“You know what’s hotter?” I grinned, licking my lips as I moved my hands to palm her ass through her jeans, my eyes fused to the two wet spots I’d left on her shirt. She coyly shook her head, no. “You losing yours too,” I said, and reached for the hem of her shirt.

She lifted her arms, aiding me in removing the garment, and I threw it to the side much like I had done with my shirt.

Pressing our torsos together with a hand against her lower back, the fingertips on my other skimmed the soft, heated swells of her breasts, noticing Charlie’s breath catch.

“So soft,” I growled low in my throat, swallowing hard. “Gorgeous.”

Charlie’s fingernails scored up from my abs to my chest, stopping to tweak my nipples, eliciting a hiss from me, my cock jumping behind my too-tight jeans. “And you’re beautiful,” she whispered. “More amazing than I could have ever imagined all of these years.”

Her quiet confession was like a proverbial bucket of iced water on my horny soul.

Shame and disappointment overwhelmed me. The former, because I had pushed us both beyond reason when she’d already said it wasn’t wise for us to get entangled. The latter, because now, more than ever, I wanted to explore things with this woman who’d just now reentered my life, but I wasn’t in the right kind of headspace to start anything with anyone, least of all her, someone who’d I’d just now discovered had held some sort of torch for me.

Skimming my hands up Charlie’s arms, I gently grabbed hold of her wrists, prying her hands aways from my heated skin, immediately hating myself for the stunned look of rejection on her face.

Bringing her hands to my lips, kissing each individual finger of hers, I hoped I could lessen the blow when I mumbled, “Thinkin’ we need to talk.”