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Releasing my hand, Charlie sets the bottles on the coffee table and turns off the kitchen light. I don’t want an awkwardness to consume me, which can happen if I start overthinking this, so I step forward as he turns on the lamp by the couch.
“Charlie, kiss me.”
He hurries to me. “My pleasure,” he whispers, then kisses me. His lips are soft but firm, and his hands grasp me, kneading me with purpose. I’m unsure if his purpose is the same one I feel. Doubt creeps in without warning. How far am I going with him? How much do I want? Am I ready? Am I ready for this? For him?
I kiss him harder and hope the moan he releases into my mouth will shroud my doubts. Our lips part, and our breaths blanket each other as we pant for more. I hold him behind the neck as he rests his forehead against mine. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting reality to ruin the moment.
Too much time to think will be the downfall of our activities—activities I’m enjoying far too much to end. So I open my eyes, pleasantly surprised to meet his blue ones. They’re darker than usual, dilated, serious, and wanting.
“I can tell you’re overanalyzing this, thinking too hard,” he says. His voice stays low and suggestive.
“I don’t want to think. I just want to feel again.” I speak the honest truth.
“Just feel.” His words float breathlessly between us but hold so much weight in their meaning.
Just feel.
Just feel.
Just feel. The words repeat in my head and become my new mantra, giving me the moxie to lead him down the short hall to his bedroom. I stop upon entering and look around at the warm and inviting space. It feels intimate in here and not bachelor pad-ish at all. He releases my hand as I step toward the bed and sit down. There’s a chocolate-brown loveseat under the window with some pillows that appear to be used a lot. Maybe he reads there. I would. It looks so cozy and comfortable.
The furniture in the room isn’t matchy-matchy but works well together. Every piece feels as if it has always belonged together. The gray-blue color of his comforter reminds me of his eyes.
Charlie’s voice brings me back to him before I have a chance to analyze the framed photographs on the wall. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he says, sitting beside me. He entwines his fingers with mine and places our hands on his thigh.
“No, I want to do this—”
“Do what?” He looks at me, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Be here. Do this . . . you know . . . oh, I don’t know. Just kiss me, dammit!”
A sly smile makes its way across his face as his hand lands gently on my cheek. Caressing my skin with his thumb, he chuckles under his breath, then kisses me exactly how I need to be kissed. It’s mind-blowing.
I relax, feeling the gentle pressure of him while letting his clean and masculine scent infiltrate my body. I sigh into his mouth, and he kisses me harder until I’m lying on my back. I use my heels to dig into the mattress, pushing myself farther up. He slides up the bed with me, and our lips never separate. His hand slinks up my leg and over my dress, settling on my ribs.
I like the gentle weight of his chest on mine and the way my tummy tingles as he balances above me. His knees are between mine, nudging them apart to make more room. I should feel weird or awkward because it’s been so long, years in fact, since I’ve been with anyone other than Jim, but I don’t with Charlie. I don’t feel either of those. Instead, his touch comforts me as his mouth cherishes me.
I feel his right thumb run lightly over the side of my breast. Losing more of myself in the moment with each second that passes, I push my body into his hand, wanting the same thing he wants.
A deep groan rumbles through his chest, and his kisses intensify. He leaves my lips and trails wet kisses over my jaw down to my throat. He works his way to my ear, his breath heavy and hot. “You’re so beautiful.” His words are but a sweet sigh.
His hips press forward, and I can feel how large he is. He thrusts his pelvis into mine, and I arch my back, relishing the sensation.
It’s been too long. I missed this—the butterflies, the excitement and anticipation, the intimacy of being this vulnerable yet comfortable with someone. I didn’t feel confident in the beginning of my relationship with Jim, and it makes me note how much I do with Charlie.
He stops after he kisses my shoulder. Maneuvering the strap of my dress to the side, he nibbles at my collarbone.
