“You should move. I’m about to go,” he groans, staring down at me.

“This is my first BJ. Don’t tell me what to do,” I say around him, kissing the tip.

He laughs but stops when I twirl my tongue around his head.

“Charm…” he mumbles when I take him inside my mouth and hum. I’m not sure how to do it right, but I use everything I have. My hands cup his tight ass, my nails digging into those firm muscles as I suck, rolling my tongue down his hard length. “Charm!” His hips arch and he growls when he comes, his fingers in my hair as he pushes himself in deep. I take everything he gives me.

Silence fills up the room as we breathe heavily and ease away from each other slowly. I reach the bed and pull myself up. I keep my face averted, processing.

He…I…that was…hot.

Why haven’t I ever done that?

Because I never wanted to before, but with him…

When I turn around, he’s zipping up his jeans, his shoulders hunched as he seems to gather himself.

He never even took his shirt off, I realize, and here I am in nothing but a bra under my breasts.

Reaching over to the nightstand, I grab a tissue and wipe my mouth. Fixing my bra, my fingers feel useless, still in some kind of afterglow as I straighten up and stand. I snatch my underwear and slide them on then grab a blanket from the bed and drape it around me.

He’s just watching, and I chew on my lips.

What’s next?

Weirdness, that’s what.

“Thank you for seeing me home,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I feel a slow blush rising on my cheeks. “That was lame,” I say.

He’s got those heavy eyes on me, assessing me, thinking.

Shit, what is he thinking?

I clear my throat. “Are you leaving?” It’s what I did to him. I pulled myself together those times we were together, said goodbye, and left. He didn’t seem to care. He told me bye and see you later. I clearly remember, because I wanted him to say more, especially that last night we were together. I suspect my heart was right there on my face.

He stalks over to me and lifts my face up. “I should go.”

“You should. It’s very late, practically dinner time.”

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, playing with a piece of my hair.

“Then stay.”

“What will we do?”

If I was a good girl, I’d say hang out and watch TV, maybe eat, but— “What will we do?” he repeats, his eyes on me.

“Whatever you want,” I whisper.

He licks his lips. “The next time I come, I want it to be inside you, Charm. I want to be deep in your pussy. Tell me to go, say the words, because I can’t leave until you do. I can’t.” His eyes are dark, his chest still, as if he’s barely in control. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Air whooshes out of me.

I want his heart, yet he doesn’t want me like that.

Still, we both want to lose ourselves in this, whatever it is. It’s the language we both know.

For this moment, it’s enough. I know I’ll regret it later, but rational thought left me the moment he sang “In Your Eyes” to me.

“Stay.”

17

“You sure?” he asks quietly. We study each other, reserve on his face, almost fear.

I nod my head.

His voice is gruff. “I’m going to go sit on the couch. You’re going to put on a skirt and find me. You feel me?”

I know exactly what he’s referring to—our sexting convo—and it makes my chest rise in anticipation.

His gaze burns. “Wear some of your big heels.”

He turns and stalks out of my bedroom, and I stand there for a moment. This isn’t like before when we had sex, where I felt a semblance of control. No, this is him being alpha, his ideas, and it doesn’t freak me out like it should. In fact, I run to my dresser and yank out fresh lacy underwear and a black mini skirt that’s too short for public wear. I adjust my bra again, pushing the girls up, grab some four-inch red heels, and shove my feet in them.

I walk into the den, and he’s sprawled back on the couch, fully dressed. He’s hooked my phone up to a speaker and “With or Without You” blares, the lyrics reminding me of the pain of wanting him.

A quick glance tells me the window blinds are open with a clear view of the house across the street plus the parking spot where his truck is.

His muscled legs are apart, blue eyes running over me, lingering on the shoes before coming back to my face. “Hey.”

Just that one husky word and I’m wet, juices already pooling.

“How can you be hard again?” I flick my eyes over the tent in his jeans.

“I’m twenty-one and horny as fuck.” He rubs his crotch and squeezes. “Been missing you.”

I let out a shaky breath. God, what are we doing?

“Get in my lap.”

He takes my hand and pulls me closer.

I suck in a breath and situate myself as I straddle him, my hands going in his hair. Wavy and dark, it’s soft and silky under my touch, and I tug, playing with the highlighted parts, scraping my nails over his scalp.

He closes his eyes and grabs the sides of my legs, moving slowly up my thighs, going under the skirt. He grips my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. He looks down at the tops of my thighs, the hint of lace peeking out from my skirt. “I can see why you like this. Grind on me, baby.”

“As long as you know that when you say baby, you really mean Charisma Rossi, badass nerd girl.”

His hand clutches my hip, squeezing. “Wasn’t thinking about anybody but you, city girl.”

Sliding up and down against his jeans, I start nice and slow, my forehead pressed to him, my hands moving to his shoulders, kneading the muscles there, relearning the planes of him. We always moved so fast before.

The sound of a car makes us pause, the motor loud in the quiet room. We look at each other, releasing twin sighs of relief when it passes by.

He shifts up to give me more friction, and I gasp at the sensation from the rough fabric of his jeans, the button at the top pressing against my wet panties. I rotate my hips, sinking into him, massaging my clit against his pants. I moan.

His fingers dig into my ass. He’s going to leave bruises, and I don’t care.

I kiss his neck, breathing him in. My tongue and teeth bite at him, and he clutches me to his body, his hands moving to caress the bare skin on my back. I suck hard, memorizing the taste of him, carving it into my memory.

“Baby, baby, you got me crazy…” He’s moved his hands, cupping my breasts through my bra, paying extra attention to my piercing.

“You like that ring?” I say in his ear.

His eyes hold mine. “You know I do. Does it feel good when I touch it?”

“Yes.” I swivel my hips against his jeans, grinding. “You should get one. Just the softest touch and it sends tingles straight to my pussy.”

His lips part. “Charm…you’re killing me.”

“Then I’m doing it right,” I whisper.

He leans over to the side and fumbles to reach his back pocket, pulls out a condom and rips it open with his teeth, eyes on me.

I unzip his pants and push them as far as they’ll go, about mid-thigh, until his cock juts up. No underwear, of course. He rolls the condom on and looks at me.

He cups my face, sliding his hands into my hair. His face is flushed, his eyes hot.

He reaches down between us and moves my panties to the side with a sweep of his hand. He holds himself and gets positioned under me, but my underwear snaps back in place.

I let out a small laugh.

He laughs with me. “Damn. This isn’t going the way I wanted.”

“Fantasies work better in our heads,” I say at the same time.

He flashes that devastating smile. “Oh, this is going to work. Take those bastards off.”

I ease up from him, taking my time as I uncurl my legs from the couch. I stand up and bend over with my ass in front of him, hook my fingers in the panties, and push them down, slowly, taking my time, letting them breeze past my thighs and calves and shoes until they’re off, a scrap of lace.

I’ve lost my GD mind.

But I don’t care.

I turn around and his face is red, his chest rising rapidly. “Can you do that again? Maybe shake that ass and slap it?”

He’s teasing, and I smile and twirl them in my hands until he reaches up and snatches them, tucking my underwear in his pocket. “Mine now.”

I gasp when he picks me up and moves me back onto his lap, groaning as he rubs his length up my nub, sliding over the slickness until I’m gasping and trying to get him inside me.

“Blaze…don’t torture me.”

“Never.” He stares at me, breathing deep when he takes my hips and adjusts me, going inside just an inch or two then sliding out slowly.

“Blaze…” I arch for more.

“Wanted this for so long,” he says, sliding back in, though not nearly enough for what I want.

His lashes flutter as he pumps all the way in. Our fit is tight and we stop, both of us motionless, savoring the feel of us.

We stare at each other when he starts to move. He strokes in and out, hands on my hips, driving me, guiding me.

I clutch his hair and move with him, getting deeper, faster.