18. Marissa

CHAPTER 18

MARISSA

T he trip back to the hotel is a blur. I'm sure Charlie and I leave the bar. I'm sure we walk down the street, and we enter the hotel's elevator.

But it's like I'm barely conscious of the outside world. All that I know is him. His hands. His lips. His breath against my neck.

With shaking hands, I unlock the door to my hotel room. Charlie's hands wrap around my waist from behind, and he walks me into the room, the door shutting with a bang behind us.

My heart thunders in my chest as he spins me around to face him. His eyes burn into mine, full of desire, full of promise. His hands cup my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. I shiver under his touch, anticipation curling in my belly.

"I need you." His voice is a low growl, sending a thrill down my spine. The air between us thrums with intensity.

My voice comes out barely a whisper. "Charlie…"

He responds by pressing his lips to mine once again, setting my senses ablaze. It's the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, makes your knees weak and your heart race.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him against me. His hold on me tightens, a low groan escaping his lips as he deepens the kiss. We move together as if drawn by some magnetic force, a dance as old as time itself.

"Hold on," he murmurs near my ear, his hands slipping down to lift me off my feet.

Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, eliciting a satisfied growl from him. He carries me towards the bed, each step echoing like a seductive drumbeat.

He gently lowers me onto the silk sheets, our clothes becoming forgotten obstacles discarded along the way. His body covers mine, his muscles hard and rippling as he positions himself above me.

He looks down at me, his gaze full of want and something more profound that makes my heart flutter. There's no going back now. We've crossed an invisible line and given into temptation.

I know this is wrong; I shouldn't be doing it. When he looked at me that way in the bar, though, I couldn't resist. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His eyes held the promise of something more, something better.

His fingers trail down my side, igniting a path of want and need in their wake. It's intoxicating, dizzying. His touch is like fire, searing into my skin, marking me as his.

"Are you sure?" he asks in a low voice that sends shivers down my spine. The fact that he even asks makes me want him more.

But I don't know what question he's asking. Am I sure about tonight? Or about what comes next?

Because that's complicated. Way more complicated than I care to think about.

What I do know is we're alive right now. Here. Together.

And I want him more than I think I've ever wanted anything in my whole life.

"Yes," I breathe out, giving him permission to claim me fully.

With a downward flick of his lashes, he kisses me once more, drowning out the rest of the world. The only reality that exists is us — Charlie and Marissa — in this intimate moment that promises to change everything.

His lips journey down my jaw… my neck… over my shoulder and to my breast. His tongue flicks against my nipple and I gasp in pleasure, my fingers tangling in his short hair.

He looks up at me, his eyes burning with passion and possession. I feel a wild kind of desire within me, a hunger that only he can satisfy.

"Charlie," I moan, encouraging him further. His response is a wicked grin that sends a wave of anticipation through me.

He moves with purpose, hands sliding down my waist and then up my back until his fingers are entwined in my hair. The world spins, tilts on its axis.

His mouth presses against my neck and a small gasp escapes my lips. He chuckles, deep and low. The sound reverberates through me. It's that laugh I'd come to love — confident, charming, and oh so dangerous.

"I need you," he murmurs against my skin.

"I need you too," I whisper back, my voice barely audible over the thrumming of my heart.

His lips trace a path down my collarbone, lighting me up with a desire so intense it leaves me breathless.

His hand slides between my thighs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from me.

"Beautiful," he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

His hand moves slowly, tracing circles on my inner thigh, setting my nerves aflame. The anticipation is killing me; I want him, need him, now.

I whimper again, my back arching as his fingers inch closer to where I want him most.

He smiles, a slow, sinful smile that makes my breath catch in my throat. His hand trails further up my thigh, and then he's touching me, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my veins. His touch is like fire, burning me up from the inside out. I can barely contain my moans.

He kisses me again, deeper this time, his tongue coaxing mine into a dance of desire. His fingers continue their maddening trail, igniting a fierce need within me that only he can quench.

I whimper against his lips, my body arching into his touch, my skin craving the feel of him against me.

His fingers find their destination, causing me to gasp out loud. He groans in response, the sound echoing through the room and sending shivers down my spine.

And then he's kissing down my body, marking me with his mouth while his fingers continue to play havoc on my senses. I gasp at each new sensation, the pleasure building until it's all I can do to keep from screaming.

I can feel him smile against my skin as he brings me closer to the edge.

"You're so beautiful when you let go," he whispers against my ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps across my skin. "Let go for me, Marissa."

His words ignite a spark inside of me that quickly turns into an inferno. I cry out as waves of pleasure wash over me, drowning me in their intensity.

No sooner have I regained the ability to speak, I'm asking if he has a condom. Charlie finds one in the wallet in his discarded pants and rolls it on.

He positions himself above me, his eyes locked with mine.

I grin up at him. "Please. Don't make me beg."

Then he's inside me and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. It's been a while since I've been with someone, and the sensation is overwhelming.

I close my eyes. All I can think about is how good he feels and how much I want more.

His movements are slow at first, giving me time to adjust before he picks up the pace. But then he becomes more insistent, each thrust making me see stars.

He grips my hips, pulling me closer with each sharp thrust. I cry out, the sound swallowed by another searing kiss from him. His passion matches mine, every movement echoing through our intertwined bodies.

"Charlie," I moan into his ear, and he responds with more fervor, more urgency. His name becomes a mantra on my lips, a tether to reality as the pleasure washes over me in waves. He grunts his approval, his whispers stoking the fires within me.

Suddenly, he flips us over, so I'm on top, riding him. My body moves of its own accord, finding a rhythm that's perfect.

"Marissa," he groans below me, his hands on my hips.

His eyes are dark with need, and they hold mine captive, building a connection that goes beyond the physical. It's unexpected, this intimacy between us. It knocks the breath out of me more than any physical act could.

His hands move from my hips to my back, then my breasts, his touch setting off a flurry of sparks beneath my skin. The pleasure intensifies with each stroke, with each press of his lips against my skin. I start to see stars, my vision blurring.

His grip tightens on me, pulling me closer. The pleasure builds deep within me and I explode, flying into a million pieces and going up into space.

He groans, deep and low, and I feel him release inside of me. We both collapse, me on top of his chest, and the room is filled with our heavy breathing.

For a long time — I don't even know how long — we stay as we are, his arms around me and my ear pressed to his pec. It's perfect, our own little slice of heaven.

Finally, I sit up and look down at him. He gazes back, his eyes soft and a gentle smile on his lips.

"That was amazing," he says. "I hope…"

"What?" My pulse flutters. I don't know why, but I'm nervous.

"I hope you don't regret it."

I exhale in relief. The way I'm reading it, he's telling me that he doesn't regret what we just did.

"No," I say. "I don't regret it."

"Good." He holds onto my hips. "I know this changes our relationship now."

That would probably be an understatement. Charlie is my client. Right now, he's my only client.

I had planned on handing him over to Isaac eventually anyway, once I get more clients. But still. If I mess things up with Charlie, that will never happen.

Isaac will never give me another client again.

A lump forms in my throat, but I push the worry away.

"I won't let things get complicated," Charlie says, tracing his fingers up my spine. His touch sends shocks of sweetness through me, making me shiver.

"But it's already complicated," I argue. The words hang heavy in the air, reality puncturing our bubble of bliss.

He lifts a hand to tuck a stray curl behind my ear, his eyes never leaving mine. "We can handle complicated. It doesn't have to be a bad thing."

His fingers trace a warm path down my cheek. "Besides, Marissa… I like you. And not just as my agent."

His words sink into me, swirling around in a tangle of emotions. Excitement. Fear. Anticipation. I swallow hard, my heart pounding.

"You like me." It's not a question. I'm repeating his words back to him, testing their weight on my tongue.

"Yes." He says it so simply, his gaze still on mine. His fingers continue their exploration, skimming my shoulder, trailing down my arm. "I like you, Marissa."

His confession takes the air out of the room. I feel a chill, and it's not from his touch. It's this wall I've hit. One second I'm soaring with him, and the next I'm grounded by gravity, by reality.

Charlie, my client, my Charlie… likes me.

"I…" But I can't find the words to continue. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, spinning out of control.

Charlie's hand halts its trail down my arm. He gazes at me, concern lacing his features.

This could go so, so wrong. We're supposed to be presenting to the world as a couple, but behind closed doors it's another matter. Feelings mean things can get messy. Isaac finding out about this means things can get messy.

But we've already had sex. And Charlie has told me he likes me. So it's a little late to worry about the mess, isn't it?

With that in mind, I swallow my worries down and smile at the man in front of me. "I like you, too. And I want to see where this goes."

Charlie's eyes spark with what could be relief or joy. Maybe both.

"Me too," he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

His hand lifts from my arm and moves to tangle in my hair, pulling me close until our foreheads touch. The questions are still there — what does this mean between us? What about his playboy ways? What about Isaac? Am I just setting myself up to be hurt?

Right now, though, I don't give a damn about finding the answers. I'm happy exactly where I am.