Page 174 of Love at First Fright

And then we were there, in the place I’d first heard Charlie play my guitar. Where I’d felt all those feelings crash over me, all-consuming, overwhelming. Where I’d first touched his lovely cheek and somehow ended up completely gone for him already.

We shuffled boxes and suitcases and other attic debris out of the way, creating a large space near the window. Dust motes kicked up, dancing in the grey afternoon light as we spread the duvet and blankets across the floorboards. I found a bag full of old pillows—frilly, lace-edged things that may well have been as old as Molly.

Creating our little nest together, we kept giving each other tiny, secret smiles. Charlie’s cheeks stayed flushed, and every time our fingers brushed whilst arranging the blankets, my chest cracked open a little wider, heart threatening to beat again.

Then we were tumbling onto the duvet, me yanking off my Converse and peeling away jeans and underwear, desperate to feel his skin on mine.

Charlie’s breath misted slightly, the attic air even colder than me. “Fuck, it’s freezing up here. Sorry.” I bit my lip. This was a bad idea.

Charlie pressed his thumb to my mouth, freeing my lip from my teeth. “I’m sure you can find creative ways to warm me up.” His finger hooked under my thin leather collar, tugging gently. “Did I tell you yet how fucking sexy you look in this collar?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Like my teenage wet dreams.”

The words punched straight through me. I almost made a joke—bet you weren’t having wet dreams about fucking fifty-year-olds when you were sixteen—but the words didn’t quite make it past my lips. Because Charlie was twisting me onto my back, straddling my hips with his thighs bracketing my waist.

His hands explored my body, slow and deliberate. Fingertips traced over my thighs, up my stomach, across my ribs, along my arms and shoulders, each touch a lit match dragged across my skin.

Nobody had ever touched me like this.

I was as sure of that as I was that Charlie was meant for me. That we were meant to find each other. That if I were alive, I would give Charlie everything.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice gone all rough. He dipped his head, tongue darting out to lick the small bat tattoo on my shoulder, tracing the shape of it. Wet heat that had me arching off our makeshift bed, a broken moan ripping out of me before I could stop it.

Then his lips found mine. Passionate didn’t cover it. This was desperate, hungry, like we were trying to consume each other. Teeth scraped my bottom lip, gorgeously frantic in their need to devour me. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I couldn’t remember kissing being quite like this—like drowning and being saved at the same time. Like every terrible song lyric about heartbreak suddenly made perfect sense.

My hands fisted in his overalls. They needed to come off. I wanted to feel his soft, warm skin under mine, wanted nothing between us. I flipped us, rolling Charlie beneath me on the duvet. His fluffy golden hair fanned across the pillow in wild tangles, glasses particularly askew.

Catching the zipper of his navy overalls between my teeth, I dragged it down slowly whilst holding his gaze. Charlie’s breath hitched, hands clutching at the blankets beneath him.

No shirt under his uniform today. Just his lovely skin. Perfect.

Lower. Lower. Until the jumpsuit gaped open, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, the soft curve of his stomach, the trail of hair that disappeared beneath his waistband.

I peeled the fabric away from his shoulders, down his arms, pulling it over his hips and legs until Charlie lay naked beneath me, skin flushed pink in the dim attic light.

“Fucking hell,” I breathed, drinking in the sight of him.

Charlie reached up, fingers threading through my hair, and pulled me down for another kiss, and I inhaled his scent deeply, that summer fruit shampoo, and imagined what he tasted like: strawberries and sunshine and sweet, sweet love songs.

I dipped my mouth lower, mouthing the light stubble along his jaw. As I traced a path down his throat, I swore I could almost taste his sweat—sweet and salt and sharp and utterly human. Utterly alive.

I started to move further down his chest, but Charlie’s hands fisted in my hair, holding me in place.

“Mark me.”

I froze.

His voice dropped to a broken whisper. “Mark my neck. Do it.”

The desperate edge in his tone sent pure electricity crackling through me. I pressed my lips to the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, breathing him in.

“Please, Bat.”

My mouth opened against his throat. I sucked gently at first, feeling his pulse flutter beneath my tongue. Charlie’s hips bucked up, his cock rutting against my stomach, smearing precum across my skin.

“Harder.”