14. Quentin

14

QUENTIN

C harlie yawns over her lasagna, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Her eyeliner is smudged and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she smiles at me, her cheeks flushed from the success of the day.

We’re back in the inn’s dining room, too tired to try any other place for dinner.

Dina is singing again, and her tough-looking husband stands guard while the kids sit in the booth with Sharon and Vinny, their doting grandparents.

When I walked past for the restroom earlier, Dina was between songs, and I leaned over the piano to give her my compliments. Her husband strode over to us, glowering at me.

I backed off quickly. I guess the dude’s protective of his wife.

It’s the same feeling I had watching Charlie speak to male customers today. The rational part of me knows it’s her job to chat and be friendly, but the caveman in me wanted to drag her away and keep her hidden from sight.

She’s gotten under my skin, and the more time I spend with her the stronger the feeling grows.

Now I watch her over the dinner table, animated despite the tiredness in her eyes.

We’ve been talking easily. The conversation always flows easily with Charlie, despite our age difference. It’s like the fifteen years between us doesn’t register to her.

“You’re tired.”

She nods. “It was a long day.”

It’s only nine o’clock but it’s been a hard day, and we’ve got to do it all again tomorrow.

We finish up dinner without dessert, and I follow her to the room.

My back twinges when I see the bathtub. It still aches from the restless sleep I had last night, tossing and turning trying to get comfortable knowing Charlie was in the bed on the other side of the door.

Tonight after she brushes her teeth, Charlie closes the bathroom door behind her.

“I’m not letting you sleep in there tonight.”

She leans against the bathroom door and folds her arms. I stare at the five foot something woman with the determined look on her face.

How can I sleep next to her and not kiss her or touch her?

She holds a hand up to stop my protest.

“I’ll be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, Quentin, so I have no fear for my virtue.”

She’s right about that. I can see how tired she is.

The thought of another night in the tub makes my back twinge.

“Fine,” I say, too tired to argue. “But stay on your side of the bed.”

Her shoulders sag in relief, and she climbs into bed. I catch a glimpse of pale thigh which her t-shirt doesn’t quite cover.

My heart rate goes up a notch, and as I climb in next to her, I wonder if this is a bad mistake.

But true to her word, Charlie rolls over to face the wall, and with her back to me her breathing deepens.

In moments she’s fast asleep and I’m left staring at the ceiling with a massive boner too frightened to move in case I accidentally touch her and can’t stop.

I wake to a warm body pressing into mine. Soft skin molds against my leg, and the scent of feminine perfume permeates my senses.

My dick lengthens before I know where I am.

Charlie’s pressed against me; no, I’m pressed against her. My arm is thrown over her and her leg is draped over my thigh. Somehow in the night we gravitated toward each other and our limbs tangled.

I lie still, listening to her breathe. She’s so close her every breath tickles my cheek. My dick stirs to life. It feels so right to have her in my arms.

But I said I wouldn’t touch her.

I move my arm, trying to extract myself. Her breathing changes, and her eyes flicker open.

I freeze. The only light is the green glow from the alarm clock by the bed.

She’s not wearing any makeup, and her eyes are dark pools. We stare at each other for a long moment. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and I should back off but I can’t.

She looks vulnerable without her makeup. Raw and real. It’s a gift to see her like this. The real Charlie.

She smiles faintly, and my eyes dart to her full lips only an inch from mine. Before I can stop myself, I lean into her. My lips brush against hers, and a zing of electricity sparks between us.

My eyes flick back to hers, and they’re wide with anticipation. She’s staring at me intently, like she can see into my very soul.

I kiss her again and this time she responds, her mouth moving against mine. Our bodies slide together, and the kiss deepens. I pull her toward me, needing to feel all of her, and she gasps when my hardness brushes against her belly.

My body aches for Charlie, and once I start kissing her, I can’t stop. Her body is soft against my hardness. Her lips taste sweet and youthful against my dry ones.

Suddenly, I can’t get enough of her. I grip her hips and pull her to me. It’s been too long since I held a woman, and I’ve never wanted one as much as I want Charlie.

She moans, and the little sound makes my dick lengthen with need and longing.

I come up for air and she’s panting hard, a line of perspiration on her brow. Her pink hair sticks to her cheek, and she’s so beautiful my heart aches.

Without her makeup on, Charlie looks vulnerable and young. I pause. Because she is young. It’s hard to remember when she’s all made up with her leathers on strutting about with her big energy and confidence. But she’s only twenty-two, and she’s Raiden’s daughter.

I can’t do this. I can’t take advantage of Raiden’s daughter.

Summoning all the discipline of my military training, I pull away from Charlie. I untangle my limbs from hers and roll over onto my back, breathing hard.

Charlie props herself onto her elbow, and I can’t look at her or I might kiss her again.

“What’s stopping you, sergeant?”

She traces a finger down my chest. Thank God I put a t-shirt on going to bed. Even through the cotton, her touch scorches my skin.

I grab her finger to stop the torture.

“We can’t do this.” My voice is croaky, and I sounds feeble even to myself.

“Do what? Kiss or…” She leans over, and her warm breath skates my ear “…fuck?”

The word sends heat coursing through my body, and my hips jerk off the bed. I sit up, needing to get away from her before I do something we’ll both regret.

“We can’t do that, Charlie. You know as well as I do it’s not right.”

She sits up in bed and pulls the blankets around her. She’s gone from playful to scowling, and I hate that I’ve done that to her.

“No Quentin. You think it’s not right. I don’t see what the problem is.”

I stare at her, wondering how the hell she can’t see that this is all wrong.

“Because you’re fifteen years younger than me, because your father is my friend and the club president. I can’t disrespect him like this.”

Her frown deepens. “Why is that an obstacle? I’m not his property. I’m a woman, Quentin. I get to decide what I do with my life. My father has nothing whatsoever to do with my decisions.”

I run my hands through my hair and grip the ends in frustration. Can’t she see that this isn’t how things are done? There’s a code of honor, and sleeping with your friend’s daughter is definitely not part of that.

“It’s just not right.”

I grab the pillow off the bed and the spare blanket from the closet. “I’ll sleep in the tub.”

I expect Charlie to admonish me, tell me off and get angry at me, but the look she gives me is sadness.

“If that’s what you want, Quentin.”

She’s fed up and tired of me, and that’s worse. She lives her life in the moment, but someone has to think about the consequences. And one night of passion could have grave consequences.

I head into the bathroom and try to get comfy in the tub.