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“Right,” I say, returning the smile. Now that I’ve been pressed up against his body, it feels impossible to be away from him. A magnetic force tries to draw me forward, but I duck into the car. “See you.”
The cab drives away as the horror of what I’ve done truly sinks in. Next week?
Fun?
What universe is Charlie living in—the universe of how to casually forget about an epic makeout session? Well, that’s not where I reside, that’s for sure. How am I going to pretend that kiss never happened?
That soul-shaking, knee-melting, blood boiling kiss…
I muffle a groan of despair. At next week’s weddings, I’ll have to dance with Charlie as if I don’t remember the way it feels to be pressed up against his torso. Make small talk like I’m not imagining his tongue in my mouth.
Or other places….
I sink my head against the cool glass, but nothing can match my hot shame. What must he think of me now?
Why did I have to take a good thing, and screw it the hell up?
8
CHARLIE
I spenda solid half of my week thinking about Grace and that curveball of a kiss.
And the other half? Well, that’s spent reminding myself that I can’t do anything about it.
Anything with her, at least. Solo activities? Those are another story.
But still, I can’t get it out of my head. I know she was drunk, and not in her right mind, but I wind up thinking about everything that could have,should have, come afterwards. Sometimes, it’s the fantasy scenario where no one else is in the bar, and I hoist her up and take her right there on the pool table. Other times, I’m wondering what might have happened if I hadn’t put her in a cab like a gentleman, and instead taken her back to my place…
Damn it.
I like being around Grace. Despite getting off to a rocky start, she’s relaxed around me now—relaxed enough to come out of her shell and cut me down to size, at least. She probably still thinks I’m the dumb player from high school, but she’s fun, and she’s never fake. When she’s upset, she tells me to my face. Obviously, she’s beautiful. Hell, the sight of her in that glittering gown is going to haunt my dreams for a good long while now.
And the thought of her out of it.
I stop, scolding myself. Never mind the fantasy, the reality is, she’s totally off-limits.
Grace believes in love. Romance.Commitment. All the words that are trulyverbotenwhen it comes to me. We have totally different views on the world, and something tells me, she’s not the ‘casual hookup’ kind of girl. She shouldn’t have to be.
Not everyone needs to wind up gun-shy and alone, like me.
But I didn’t predict that her body pressed against mind would flip a switch inside of me. Zero to a hundred on the lust scale in under ten seconds.
Now, I can’t seem to turn it off.
And being turned on all the time? Is not ideal. The thought pops up about ten times a day all week:Maybe I should call her. Just to check in, to make sure she’s actually OK about the kiss and not overthinking it like me. She said it was a mistake, and she acted totally cool. In fact, she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Take the hint, Fox.
Besides, this is a professional arrangement. If only that could stop me from indulging the thought of untying her gown, pushing it off her shoulders, and—
“Hey.” Flynn snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Charlie?”
“Sorry.” I wrench my brain back to our morning meeting. The guys are all gathered, going over Mavericks business, and our latest adventures. “I was thinking about the, uh, paint colors that the designer suggested.”
We’re close enough to finishing off the new space that we’re on final decisions about finishes and hardware now. Those last details that nobody notices but will bring the space together.
Dash gives me a baffled look. “We were talking about that like five minutes ago.”
