Chapter Twenty-One

Sunday night.

Nothing to do but sit and stare at my TV . . . one thing on my mind: Charlee.

Since she left my apartment yesterday morning to spend time with her grandma, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. Not even work, well, unless it was where I can fuck Charlee in the office. The “meditation” room for sure. My desk, my tinted windows, my office chair, turned away from Sir Dragomir of course, her desk is too risky for potential visitors, but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least play with her tits if I’m sitting there with her.

It’s been non-stop, and it’s starting to make me mad.

I’ve given her some space, just in case she changed her mind, just in case she thought Friday night was a huge mistake, which I’m hoping isn’t the case. I took a big leap, going back on the promise I made to myself to stay away from her.

Who was I kidding? I didn’t stand a chance after the second day she came back to the office after being fired, as if nothing happened. I should have known then this girl was going to own me by the balls. I should have definitely known she’d defeat my defenses by her simple acceptance to sleep both at my apartment and in my bed. She’s much more unflappable than I thought, this girl I’ll be marrying shortly.

Fucking marrying.

After Friday night, is it really possible that I’ll be able to let Charlee go? I give it some serious thought and shake my head. No. I don’t think it is, which means one thing: not only am I going to have to make sure she marries me, I have to make sure this girl knows how important she is to me before she decides the marriage is over.

But how do I make sure she won’t want to walk away?

Leaning back on my stiff couch—Charlee was right, I should hire someone to break this in—I pick up my phone and find her number. I haven’t text her all weekend but before we see each other tomorrow morning, I want to make sure we’re good. That she’s good. That she’s not regretting anything that happened between us, because I sure as shit don’t.

I type out a text to her and send it.

Rath: Have a good weekend?

It’s simple, but a good opener. Thankfully, she doesn’t make me wait long for a response. From the ding of my phone, I mute my TV as if it was bothering me in the first place.

Charlee: Had a great weekend with Grandma. She’s looking a little more spirited, which is great to see and of course, she can’t stop talking about the wedding. I told her the date. I hope that’s okay.

Rath: Of course it is. Tell her whatever you want.

Charlee: Well I didn’t tell her everything . . . if you know what I mean.

Rath: You mean you didn’t tell her how you woke me up the best way possible, with my dick deep inside of you?

It might be a little too much, too fast, but it’s also a good tester to see where her head’s at. Plus, just thinking about yesterday morning, shit, I want to wake up like that every morning with Charlee riding me. I can still feel her warmth surrounding my cock, and how her pussy clenched so tightly around my length that I fucking blacked out. Legit, the lights turned out in my brain and I thought nothing, except the feel of every inch of that woman.

Charlee: Definitely didn’t tell her about your wake-up call.

Rath: Might have made her hair whiter than it is.

Charlee: If that’s possible.

I stare at her text and try to figure out what to say next. Do I ask her if she’s okay? If we’re okay? Do I ask if she wants to come over tonight? What about tomorrow, what happens if I kiss her in the office, is she going to be pissed about that?

Before I can think of something good to say, she texts me again.

Charlee: Going to eat dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.

I study the text. It’s not very warm; actually it’s almost cold. Normally she would have said something like see you tomorrow, boss man bridegroom, or some stupid shit like that. Does this mean she’s regretting what happened between us? If I think about it, she left abruptly on Saturday. Yes, we had one hell of a fucking kiss at the door, but that was it. She’s been radio silent ever since then.

Shit.

I push my hand through my hair. I think she’s backing away, which I can’t let happen because if there’s one thing I learned this past weekend, it’s that Charlee can’t go anywhere, not now that I know the exquisite taste of her. Not when she’s my bride to be. This girl is something special.

Which means, I need to show it.

The floors count off as I ride the elevator. Nerves jump in my belly the closer I get. I know she’s there—she’s always there before me and the minute I see her—I’m going to make sure she knows just how happy I am to see her.

I had flowers delivered this morning, and hopefully they’re already on her desk. I have a special lunch arriving for us later, and I plan on working—and staring at her all day.

The elevator dings and I prep myself, adjusting my suit jacket. I went with black on black today, no tie, the top few buttons undone . . . because I know she likes that. I see her staring at my chest often when I wear my shirt like this so I made a point to be casual this morning. A lite spritz of my cologne, a generous amount of mouthwash, and just the perfect amount of hair product.

I’m never nervous but hell, getting ready this morning felt like getting ready for a first date, which is crazy because this is Charlee. She’s seen me at my worst. Hell, she’s seen me at my best, and she knows the ins and outs of me. I shouldn’t be nervous around her. I should be used to her at this point, but still, what we started is new and this is almost “the morning after.” I want to make a good impression.

The door parts and just like every other morning, Charlee’s standing in front of me, looking like a goddamn angel in a form-fitting white dress that hits just above her knees. Her hair is styled in smooth waves with one side tucked behind her ear. Her makeup is minimal, gently highlighting her beautiful features, and instead of a smile, she has a concerned look on her face.

Wait . . . concerned?

Nervously, she says, “Good morning, Mr. Westin.”

My eyes narrow. “What did I tell you about that Mr. Westin shit?” I step forward and grab her around her waist, pulling her in close to my body. She makes a surprised sound right before I lower my mouth to hers, letting my lips show her just how much I missed her this weekend.

And instead of the welcoming woman I was hoping for, she’s stiff in my arms, her hand against my chest, pushing me away.

What the fuck?

When I part our lips, I say, “Is everything—”

Someone clears their throat and immediately my head snaps up to find Bram and Julia holding hands only a few feet away. Jesus Christ, how did I miss them?

Releasing herself from my grip, Charlee clears her throat and says, “Mr. Scott and Miss Westin are here to see you.”

Shit. Her face is bright red and she looks so embarrassed. Not a good start.

Bram holds his arms out and says, “My turn. I just put ChapStick on, so my lips are ready.”

Sharpening my gaze at my best friend, I point and say, “Go wait for me in my office.”

I can see another snide remark forming on my friend’s lips but before he can let it loose, my sister thankfully tugs his hand and directs him into my office where they shut the door.

When the cost is clear, I turn to Charlee and say, “I had no idea they were—”

She reaches up, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me in for a kiss. This time, she isn’t stiff. Nor is she pushing me away. No, she’s holding me close.

This time, her lips demand something from me.

This time, her body presses sensually against mine.

This time, she makes the sweetest, sexiest moan when I pull away.

“Christ,” I exhale a sigh of relief, leaning my forehead against hers. “I thought you were mad at me.”

She shakes her head, her cheeks still flushed. “I mean, that was sort of embarrassing since they don’t know what’s going on between us, but that’s for you to deal with, not me.”

“I meant this weekend,” I confess. “You seemed distant and then after our first interaction this morning, I was worried.”

She looks to the side and plays with a button on my suit jacket. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure how you were feeling after everything. I didn’t want you to let me down over the phone or through text, so I didn’t indulge. I wanted to see how you were this morning.” She smiles up at me. “Apparently on the same page as me.”

“Yeah?” I smile, pulling her in by the small of her back. “You were as desperate to see me as I was to see you this morning?”

“Maybe a little.” She lifts up and presses another kiss to my lips. “I’m glad you welcomed me like that, even though it was in front of your friend and sister. It gives me reassurance that I didn’t scare you away with my forwardness.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Trust me, I wished you woke me up with your forwardness yesterday and this morning.” I tip her chin up and whisper, “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced, you, riding my morning wood, your body a piece of artwork in front of me.”

In a move I wasn’t expecting, she leans her head against my chest and wraps her arms tightly around me, giving me a hug. I set my bag down on the ground and return the embrace.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry. I was worried myself, not knowing if you were going to give me the turndown, you know? I’ve gotten it a few times in my dating life and I just don’t think I could have taken it from you.”

I kiss the top of her head. Clearly, the guys who’ve dated Charlee were utterly insane. Blind. “Charlee, you fucking flipped my world upside down this past weekend. Trust me, you were not going to get the turndown, you were going to get the why aren’t you at my damn place right now demand.”

She holds me tighter and sighs right before pulling away. She steps out of my embrace, smooths her dress down and says, “Okay.” She straightens her shoulders. “It’s professionalism from here on out; we have work to do.”

I raise a brow in question. “You don’t have to be professional all the time you know. If you want to hike your skirt up and sit on my lap at any point of time during the day, please feel free.”

She rolls her eyes and starts walking toward her desk. I grab my bag and catch up to her. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

She points to her suitcase next to her desk and says, “Can you take a wild guess? Grandma wasn’t happy that I was with her this weekend. She’s adamant about me spending more time with you, as if I don’t spend the whole day looking at your handsome face.” She smirks. I grin. “Anyway, she does want us to come over for dinner this week to put us through what she calls Grandma’s marriage counseling.”

“What the hell is that?”

She shrugs. “No idea, but I can’t imagine it being good. If you’re a good boy and go along with it, then I might blow you after.”

Jesus. Christ.

She leans in and plays with my exposed chest. “And I’m going to tell you right now, I know how to give good head.” She kisses my jaw and my pants automatically grow tight.

“You’re fucking evil, you know that?” I ask, adjusting myself. “I have to go talk to my best friend and sister now with a hard-on.”

“Hide it with your bag.” She winks and gets behind her desk where she starts typing away as if nothing happened.

Not very helpful, but I also don’t have any other options, so reluctantly, I tuck my bag in front of me and walk into my office where Julia and Bram watch me make my way across the large space and sit at my desk. I set the bag on the floor, fold my hands in front of me and say, “What do you two want?”

Bram thumbs toward the closed door. “What the hell was that?”

Whispering, Julia adds, “She has a ring on her finger, Rath, a huge one. She’s engaged.”

“Yes.” I nod. “To me.”

Both of them lean back in shock at the same time. It’s almost comical how identical their expressions are.

“What are you talking about?” Julia asks. “She’s your assistant.”

“I’m well aware who she is. She’s also my fiancée.”

“But”—Bram looks like he’s trying to solve the Pythagorean theorem—“when did you start dating her?”

Huh, good question. I guess we’re sort of dating right now.

“Recently.”

“Only recently?” Julia’s eyes pop out of their sockets. “And you’re engaged?” She looks behind her just to make sure the door is closed. “Is this about Vanessa?”

“What? No.” I shake my head and decide to tell them the truth. “This does not leave this room, do you hear me?” I look straight at Bram who has the biggest mouth I know.

Insulted he says, “I can keep a secret.”

Julia just pats his hand to humor him because we both know he’s terrible at it.

“Long story short. Charlee’s grandma is sick, and Charlee is worried that she’ll die before she gets to see Charlee walk down the aisle. In her grandma’s wedding dress. So, we decided we’d get married.”

Julia clasps her hand to her heart . . . so does Bram.

“Rath,” Julia still whispers. “You offered to marry her for her grandma?” I nod. “That’s so sweet, but also, very complicated.”

“I agree.” Bram grows serious. “Back there it looked like this is more than just a favor. Your face lit up when you saw Charlee.”

Julia nods. “You like her . . . you really like her.”

I scratch my chin and look out the window. “Yeah, I do.”

Bram scoots in on his chair so he’s closer to me. “What happens when she doesn’t want to be married to you anymore and this all goes down the shitter?”

Determined, I say, “I’m not going to allow that to happen.” Done with the conversation, I ask, “Enough about me. Why are you two here, early in the morning, interrupting my day?”

They look at each other and I can see it in their eyes, the need to discuss my situation further, but thankfully they drop it and then clutch each other’s hands.

Smiling brightly, Bram says, “We’re pregnant.”

“What?” I leap out of my chair and round my desk, arms spread. I lift Bram out of the chair and pull him into a giant hug. “Holy shit, man, that’s amazing. Congrats.”

We embrace for longer than what I assume is deemed normal and the only reason we let each other go is because Julia clears her throat next to us.

When we turn to her she says, “Oh please, don’t let me distract you from your bromance. Proceed, I’m the one who’s carrying the baby, and I’m your sister, but that doesn’t matter.”

Whispering, Bram says, “She’s a little more sensitive these days.”

Stepping up, I take my sister into my arms and say, “Congratulations, Julia, this is amazing news.”

She wraps her arms around me and thanks me. When we pull away, I say, “How far along are you?”

“Nine weeks, which means”—she looks up at Bram and then stares down at me—“we’re moving up the wedding.”

“Oh, wow, to when?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I shout. “What do you mean tomorrow? That’s really quick.”

“Says the guy with the fake fiancée,” Bram deadpans.

Point made. But still, tomorrow, is way faster than expected.

Cupping her stomach, Julia says, “I got a beautiful wedding dress and I want to be able to fit into it. And as Bram likes to say, he has money, therefore, I’m pulling out the money card and making everything happen. Get ready, we’re getting married.”

They hold their linked hands in the air and cheer, and I’m wondering how the hell they’re going to pull everything off by tomorrow.

“Look, he’s nervous. I told you he’d be nervous.” Bram leans over and places his hand on mine. “Don’t worry, bro, we’re still going to have a birthday cake for you.”

“I couldn’t care less about the damn cake. Are you sure this is going to work? I don’t have a tux. I thought the dress wasn’t even ready yet. What about the food and the venue? We have money, but money can only get you so far.”

Bram turns to Julia and says, “He’s getting worked up.”

“I can see that.”

“I don’t see why you two aren’t worked up. And why are you still here? Do you even have a marriage license?”

Bram shakes his head and leans back in his chair. “See, I told you this was a bad idea. He doesn’t want us getting married.”

“Wait, no, that’s not what I said.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Bram asks. “You keep asking me if she’s the girl for me.”

“What? Rath, I’m your sister. Why would you say that?”

What the hell is happening right now?

“I never said that. I think you guys are perfect together. I just want to make sure this is the wedding you deserve, the wedding you want. I mean, give it at least a week, or I mean, your actual wedding date is not that far along, only a few weeks from now. Can’t you wait? You won’t be showing, will you?”

Huffing, Bram turns to Julia and says, “See, he’s too rational to pull pranks on.”

“Bram,” Julia complains. “You just blew it. We had him.”

“I know,” Bram replies. “But Rath is my man, and I know he’s about two seconds away from calling all his contacts to make sure we can make this happen.”

“Wait . . . what?” I push my hand through my hair. Why is this happening this morning? It’s way too goddamn early for all of this drama. I haven’t had my coffee or my delicious breakfast that’s normally on my desk when I arrive. I’m pouting. I know I’m pouting. I was hoping for porridge . . . but I can see a muffin bag. Hang on . . . “You’re not pregnant?”

“No, she is.” Bram thumbs toward Julia. “But this genius thought it would be fun to prank you and tell you the wedding is tomorrow.” He leans in and whispers, “I told her it wouldn’t be fun, and it would only stress my poor man out.”

“Christ,” I mumble. “Julia, don’t joke about shit like that. I was ready to call in favors.”

“Told you,” Bram says, crossing one leg over the other.

“Sheesh, you’re touchy these days.” Julia folds her arms over her chest. “Is this because of Charlee and the wedding?” Growing concerned, Julia says, “Rath, are you sure you really want to do this? It’s so quick and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I pull her into another hug and say, “I have everything under control. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay, I just don’t want you to get your heart broken again. And I know you said it’s not about Vanessa, but I‘m not sure she can make the wedding yet, so if that’s why you’re doing this—”

“It’s not,” I say, knowing I need to reassure her. “Charlee and I agreed to marry with the understanding that we were fulfilling her grandma’s—and Charlee’s —wish to walk down the aisle in Grandma’s wedding dress. We don’t know what sort of time frame we’re working with, as her grandma isn’t discussing her health. As you know, Bram, having an intelligent woman on your arm during the fundraisers is a bonus for business. That’s where Charlee is helping me out.”

“But, if you like her and she doesn’t return the sentiment—”

“Yes, there’s a chance I could get hurt. But I have a really good feeling about her, sis. I’m hoping that our marriage won’t be a business arrangement.” I’m hoping for more.

“Me too,” Julia says, looking uneasy about the whole thing and when I glance at Bram, he’s not looking at me, but is concerned about Julia’s concern.

I know it’s fast and it’s scary. Fuck, I was a mental case on Friday night as I wrestled with whether I could move forward physically with Charlee. And she’d been willing to walk away out of respect for me. That spoke volumes about her and her heart. And that’s why I believe in what I’m doing. Charlee Bag of Dicks is one incredible woman, and I’m going to make her mine.

“Can I come in?” Charlee asks from my doorway.

I lean back from my computer, my eyes feeling blurry. “When have you ever asked?”

She shrugs. “I thought I’d hear from you after Bram and Julia left, but you never called me in. From the congratulations they gave me, I’m assuming you told them.”

I reach my hands behind my neck, stretching, and say, “Yeah. I told them. They thought it was quick, but they’re excited.” Pausing for a second to take Charlee in, I hold back the lust driving my pulse higher. “Julia’s pregnant.”

“What? Oh my gosh, that’s so exciting. Are they still going to keep the wedding date?”

I nod at her. “Be my date?”

Her lips screw to the side as she puts her hands on her hips. “Rath Westin, is that how you’re really going to ask me?”

“I’m not about to hire a marching band to ask, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, but a full sentence wouldn’t hurt.”

Sighing, I say, “Charlee, will you be my date to Bram and Julia’s wedding . . . please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” She takes a seat across from me and I comprehend what she’s doing; she’s trying to respect the office boundaries and even though I want her on my lap, I think it’s cute. Instead of speaking, we’re awkwardly smiling at each other.

“What are you smiling at?”

She shrugs. “Don’t really know. Just smiling. What about you?”

“Smiling at you.”

Our faces frozen, we stay like that for a few more seconds before Charlee looks away and says, “Do you have a list for me?”

“Yup.” I rock forward in my chair and lift the list I’ve been working on off my desk and hand it to her. “Done by noon would be great, but I can understand if you can’t get it all done. It’s laborious today.”

She takes the paper from me. “I love a good chall—” One single brow raises as she looks at me. “Rath, this isn’t a list of to-dos.”

“Sure it is.”

“Uh-huh. So item number two, suck boss’s cock until he comes. That’s in the job requirements?”

“Files under miscellaneous.”

“And strut around in nothing but bra and panties while dusting boss’s office. What’s that file under?”

“Cleaning in uniform, obviously.”

She snorts. “And required dessert after lunch, Charlee’s pussy?”

“Yes, I’m famished today.”

She crumbles up the list and tosses it back at me. “You’re delusional if you think I’m doing that.”

“We’re on our own floor. No one will ever know.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “When we’re at work, we’re working. This morning we got a little carried away—”

“That was not getting carried away. That was a kiss. If you want to get carried away, I can strip that white dress off your body right now and show you what getting carried away is all about.”

“That’s quite all right.” She motions up and down my body with her finger. “I know your kind. You have office fantasies that border erotica, and I will tell you right now, Rath Westin, they’re not going to come true. I came here to work and work I shall. Do you hear me?”

Loud and clear.

“Please, Rath, stop teasing me,” Charlee groans, as she’s presses up against one of the windows of my office, completely naked and writhing against the cool glass.

My pants are down, my dick is rubbing against her ass, and my shirt is undone so I can feel her heated skin against mine.

“Tell me you want it,” I growl into her ear while holding her jaw so she can’t move. “Tell me you were lying this morning, that you don’t just come here to work, but that you come here to see me.”

“You know I do,” she says, moving her butt back. The hand that’s not gripping her jaw is teasing her pussy, barely gliding over her slit, making her crazy with need.

“That’s not what you said earlier. You said this is a place for working, not fucking.”

“I was a liar,” she says through clenched teeth as my finger slips inside her briefly, but then pull out. “Rath, stop,” she begs. “You’re being mean.”

I still and remove myself from her body. She turns quickly, only to be pinned against the window again, but I do it gently, lightly taking her hands in mine and move them above her head. I rest my forehead against hers and gently say, “Charlee, I’m never being mean in the bedroom. Don’t say that.”

“You won’t let me come,” she says, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Because I don’t want you to simply come. I want you to feel your entire orgasm from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. When you’re with me, you are going to be pleasured. It won’t only be us having sex. There’s going to be so much more to that, which means, I’ll take my time when I want. I’m not being mean. I’m pulling every last ounce of pleasure from you.”

I lightly kiss her lips and let one hand go while linking our fingers with the other. I cup her cheek and move my mouth across hers while slowly grinding my dick against her center. She moans into my mouth and her fingers curl over mine.

Unable to take much more, I wrap her leg around my waist and position my cock at her entrance right before lifting her up against the glass and plunging deep inside her. Hands still connected with my other arm holding her up, I fuck her against the window with powerful thrusts, loving how she feels wrapped around me and how she gives her body over to my control so easily.

It’s sexy.

It’s exactly what I need from her.

Nothing has ever felt like this. I’ve never felt like fucking is coming home, like this is where I should have been my entire life. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at the same time, and with each increased thrust, I greedily want more and more.

Our mouths connect, our bodies heighten in pleasure together, as our breaths become ragged and labored. Together our orgasms start to rise. Her core contracts around my cock, I swell inside of her as a plunging euphoria rolls down my spine.

“Yes,” she whispers breathlessly. “God, yes, Rath. Right . . . there.” She tenses and her pussy contracts even more, making it almost impossible to thrust. “Keep going. Please. Rath . . . shit . . . I’m coming.”

I’m right there with her as my hips pump faster and faster, my balls tighten, and before I can pull out, I come inside her. Fuck, I love the feel of her around my cock. Bare. Us. I’m fucking grateful she’s on the pill.

I hold her against the window while we catch our breath, my mouth traveling up her neck and then back down. Lingering kisses allow me to taste her delectable skin. Sweet with a hint of salt from our exertion. Soft and smooth, my scruff mars her beautiful complexion, marking her as mine. Her hands fall around my waist and she tilts her head to the side, granting me better access to her neck.

“Okay . . . we really need to get some work done now,” she says on a laugh when I move my mouth to her collarbone, heading south one more time.

“I think I’m good with doing this all day,” I murmur, taking one of her breasts in my hand.

“Rath, I’m serious.”

Sighing, I stop my pursuit and lower my head to her shoulder. “Yeah, I know.” Her hand still in mine, I bring it to my mouth. “You’re still coming over to my place tonight?”

“My grandma wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I press a quick kiss to her nose. “And you? You want that?” She smiles and it’s almost her coy smile.

“Yes, Rath. I want that too.” I smack her ass and say, “Good. Get back to work.”

Clearly offended, she points her finger into my chest and says, “I suggest you don’t do that again.”

Chuckling, I hold up my hands. “No slapping the ass and sending you on your way. Got it.”

Sitting on my lap, wearing nothing but one of my button-up shirts . . . unbuttoned . . . Charlee plays with my hand as music plays in the background and the fireplace casts a light orange glow on her. Full and exhausted from our small fuck fest, we relax in each other’s arms, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Honestly, I don’t think I can remember a time I’ve ever felt this relaxed, this calm. It’s almost like Charlee is my drug, and she’s able to help me release every worry and stressor in my body by sitting on my lap.

“Come on, you have to have an embarrassing story to tell me.” She plays with the hair on the back of my head. “You’re so stoic all the time, but I see how you are with Bram and Roark. Tell me another story about your college days, something other than peeing in a hamper.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “You don’t want to hear that shit. It’s frat-boy crap that’s stupid and really demeans my image.”

“Well, I think you need to be brought down a peg or two in my mind because you’re being held in high regard right now. It’s not good.”

“Not good? I would say that’s pretty honorable. Why would I want to change that?”

“Because.” I run my hand up her thigh and try not to get excited when I glance down and see one of her breasts completely exposed. She continues on a heated breath, “If you tell me an embarrassing story, it might make you more human, which in return will be good for you, because then I might like you even more.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want you to get too clingy.” She tugs on the back of my hair, making me yelp. “Watch it. You don’t want a bald groom, do you?”

She shrugs. “There’s still time to call off the wedding. If you don’t reveal your secrets, how do I know if you’re the one for me? I can’t have dirt being brought up after I say I do.”

I clutch her thigh tightly and say, “First of all, there is no joking about calling off the wedding, do you hear me? You either want to get married or you don’t.” My voice comes out harsh, and I can’t help it. I’ve put a lot on the line here, including my heart, and I don’t want it being threatened.

Her face softens and she lifts one hand to my jaw where she carefully caresses the thick stubble. “I’m sorry.”

I kiss her palm and then I say, “Second, the only dirt you’ll dig up about me is in the bedroom.”

“Are you saying you’re kinky?”

I move my hand to her stomach and travel up to her breasts where I lightly massage them, and then roll her nipple between my fingers. Her breath hitches, but that’s the only indication she gives that she can feel what I’m doing to her. I draw circles over her nipples, turning them into perfect little peaks. I love the feel of them hard against my fingers, turned on, ready for my next move. Makes me feel fucking powerful, as stupid as that sounds.

“I know what I like,” I answer.

“Yeah.” Her other hand runs up and down my chest. “But you weren’t always like that. Tell me something embarrassing you did in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, okay,” I scoff. “No way in hell.”

“Please?” She pouts, causing me to laugh.

“You’re cute, you know that? But it’s not going to work. Sorry, babe.” I continue to rub my thumbs over her taut nipples, reveling in the simple touch that’s making us both a little heavier.

“Fine, I’ll tell you something about me and maybe it will get you to share.”

“I can guarantee it won’t.” God, her breasts are like candy to me, fitting in my palm sweet and tantalizing. What I wouldn’t give to bring one to my mouth right now, suck on her nipple until she’s undulating beneath my touch.

“But what I have to tell you is really good. Like . . . really good.”

“I’m sure it is. You’re a bit of a weirdo.”

“What?” Her eyes shoot open but then, she thinks about it and laughs. “Hmm, maybe I am a bit of a weirdo. But if I’m a weirdo, that means you’re stuck-up.”

“I’m not stuck-up.”

“Yes, you are. You’re very stuck-up.”

“Then you clearly don’t know me well enough because I’m anything but stuck-up.”

She leans in and presses a kiss against my cheek. “Thank you for making my point about needing you to share more.”

Damn . . . she’s good.

Dragging my hand over my face, I say, “Fine. I’ll share, but you go first so I know the level of embarrassment we’re going for.”

Excited, she straddles my lap and places both hands on my shoulders as she rubs her bare center up and down my boxer-covered lap. What the hell is she doing? And I hope she keeps doing it . . .

She pauses, glances down and then chuckles. “Honestly, Rath, how can you possibly have a boner right now after everything we’ve done?”

Looking her dead in the eyes, I say, “You’re hot as shit, wearing nothing but my unbuttoned shirt, and you’re straddling my lap. I’m going to get hard.”

“I mean . . . I’m flattered.” She smiles and then says, “Okay, are you ready for this?”

“Hit me.”

Hands on my chest, she says, “So I was drunk—”

“As all good failed sex stories start.”

She laughs. “Absolutely my undoing. So yes, tequila had a hold on me that night and there was this guy I was totally jiving with on the dance floor. One of those guys who has no problem pelvic thrusting his erect penis on the dance floor on any ass that comes within a foot of his hips.”

“A classy man.”

She bops my nose. “See? Stuck-up.” I roll my eyes. “So, we were dancing, he was cannon thrusting me in the throes of the bar, which then turned into some rather public making out. I climbed the man like a tree and whispered in his ear, ‘Bathroom.’”

I frown. “You know, I don’t think this was a good idea . . . to share.”

“Oh, hang up your jealousies for a second, this gets good.” Sighing, I let her proceed. “So, we meet in the bathroom but the handicap stall was taken so we went into one of the small ones. I faced the toilet, he was behind me. We used a condom, don’t worry, but I was wearing a skirt and basically just bent over, gripped the toilet, and let him have at it.”

“Jesus, Charlee.”

She shrugs. “I was twenty-one. YOLO. Anyway, this guy was just going to town, and of course, being the drunk lady that I was, I occasionally let out a giant whoop and waved my arm around.”

I cringe, wondering where this is going.

“Well, I timed my whoop at the wrong moment, and just as Cannon Cock blasted me from behind, the force was too powerful, I was too drunk, and I ended up flying forward, slipping, and thrusting my head straight into the toilet. In my scramble to get back up, since good old CC had no idea I was drowning in toilet water, I grabbed the handle to stand, yanked and . . . gave myself a swirly.”

What . . .

I mean . . .

Wait . . . I can’t.

I throw my head back and laugh so hard that my chest aches.

“Oh shit.” Tears stream down my face as I picture it in my mind, Charlee’s head completely soaked from toilet water, a swirl on the top of her head. Oh fuck, it’s too good.

I laugh even harder, my stomach starting to hurt.

She grips my shoulders, shaking me to look at her. Eyes blurry, I give her the attention she desires.

“The worst part of it was, he came when I was flushing myself so I didn’t even get to finish. Instead, I did the walk of shame back to campus with drenched hair, running makeup, and a sore vagina from the blasting I took. Not my best moment.”

I snort.

I chortle.

I try to hold it in, but I let out the biggest guffaw you have ever heard.

“That’s right, let it all out. Picture it, visualize it, and know that no matter how bad you want it, I will never fuck you in a bathroom stall . . . ever.”

That makes me stop and straighten up. “The fuck you won’t. Now we have to fuck in a bathroom stall to change your experience.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Not happening. Sorry.”

We’ll see about that.

“Okay”—she pats my chest—“your turn and it better be good. I told you about my sex swirly, so you need to tell me something excruciating.”

“Hell, I have nothing like a sex swirly in my back pocket.” Still chuckling, I say, “I wish I did.”

“Okay, then tell me something else. A family story or a fear. Something,” she says, eyes pleading.

I think back to the promise I made myself, the one where I make this girl stick around, make it impossible for her to leave. I want her to start falling for me the way I’ve started falling for her, so I take my hands in hers and let out a deep breath.

“How about a fear?” I ask.

“That is way more than I was expecting, but yes, please. Anything, Rath.”

God, she’s so desperate to know more, to know me. I make a mental note to try to tell her more.

I twist her hands together with mine and say, “Failure is a fear of mine, something that will cause me to stay up until all hours of the night. But it’s never business failure that plagues me.”

“Oh, really?” she asks. “What kind of failure.”

“Failing the person I’m interested in. Letting them down, not following through, failing at being the person they need me to be.” I stare at our hands. “I already failed someone and it’s eaten me up since. I think about how I could have changed things. How I could have been a better person, more attentive, and to this day, I’m still not quite sure where I went wrong. But I know I failed, and I don’t want to do that again.” I look up at her. “Especially with you.”

“Rath.” Her chest rises and falls quicker than before. “Why do you think you’re going to fail me?”

“It’s always in the back of my mind. I can be guarded as you know, and sometimes I forget to drop the shield and just feel.” I grip her tighter. “Help remind me?”

“Of course, but”—she bites her bottom lip and seems nervous—“is there more to us than just . . . having sex?” She chuckles. “And getting married?”

“Kind of out of order, I know, but I mean . . .” Fuck, I’m nervous too. If she’s not sure that this is more than just fucking, am I taking a huge risk here? If she could laugh at that, will she laugh at me declaring my heart? Do I take this risk? I swallow and look her in her beautiful eyes. “I like you, Charlee, more than I care to admit this early on, but it’s there, the feelings, and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be devastated if we didn’t give this a shot. That’s if you want to.”

“As in not a fake marriage, but an actual relationship?”

I nod. “Yeah, an actual relationship.”

Smiling, she cuddles in closer and says, “Why, boss man, are you asking to date me?”

“Yeah, I am.” I cup her cheek, and press a lingering, sensual kiss to her mouth. When I pull away, I say, “I’m breaking every rule I’ve ever set for myself and asking if you won’t only take my hand in marriage, not just fuck me, but if you’ll actually date me?”

“Oh, Lord help me, you’re so romantic.” She nods, turning serious. “I would love to date you, Mr. Westin.”

Relief spreads through me and I relax into the couch, not realizing how tense I was, waiting for her answer. Does she realize how happy her answer has made me? That I’m more to her than a means to an end? That I’m actually a man she wants to pursue?

Pride surges through me as I clutch her even tighter.

“Mmm, I like when you say Mr. Westin like that. Calling me Mr. Westin in the bedroom is completely acceptable.” I release her hands and grip her hips under the shirt and start rocking her up and down on my pelvis. “Care to meet me in the bathroom?”

She laughs, the sound music to my ears. “No. Not happening.”

“That’s what you think.” Before she can move, I lift her up off the couch and take her to my bedroom, with her laughing the entire time.

She could not be more perfect . . . for me.