AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Could he be anymore arrogant—or right?
“I think it's the other way around, Charlie.” I'm being brave, trying to take him down a peg, but on the inside I'm so embarrassed it's stupid. My stomach is in knots. “I think it's you who likes kissing me.”
“Sure I do.” He glances between my eyes. “You're a nice looking girl. I wouldn't kick you outa bed for love nor money.”
I look away from him, my cheeks burning. How can he say things like that to a girl with such cool composure? I'd never have the guts to tell him how I feel.
“I give you one week before you're revoking our little deal,” he says softly, with a hint of sarcasm.
I swallow, keeping my eyes down. “I think you'll be sourly surprised when I don't.”
“You're right,” he whispers, leaning into me, “I will be.”
18
The next week passes slowly.
Charlie wakes me up the morning after pledging I'll revoke our 'little deal' with a cup of coffee and I'm so startled to see him in my room before the sun has even risen that I just lie here leaning up on one elbow; stare at him in the doorway. He saunters in to put the coffee down on the bedside cabinet and as soon as he looks down on me, my stomach twists with knots. There's this familiar pressure in the pit of my core too. Sexual anxiety. I think he's come to do something to me. To satisfy his appetite—or mine.
“What-what are you doing in here, Charlie?”
“Don’t look so nervous. I’m just bringing you a coffee because I know you like it. You all right?” he says this sounding concerned. Though it's quite dark in here with only a burning pink sky peeking in through the window, I can see he's frowning.
“Yeah,” I croak out because my throat is a bit sore, “why wouldn’t I be?”
Standing there at my bedside, he watches me for a moment in total silence. I don't know where to look—I feel as if I'm naked and on trial when he looks at me like that—so I sit up against the headboard and reach for the steaming cup of coffee.
“Be ready in half an hour for the gym,” he says eventually in a low, soft voice, “I've made you some breakfast. It's in the oven.”
“Um... okay.”
“If you everwant toeat breakfast with me, let me know and I'll wake you up earlier.”
Eat breakfast with him? Why would I want to eat breakfast with him? I barely make it through dinner mentally unscathed.
Hugging the blanket to my chest, I nod to answer him, and then he leaves.
That was really weird, but it doesn't end up being so. This becomes a pattern and I’m less and less nervous by the day. SixA.M.wake up calls with a coffee and Charlie asking if I'm all right, then breakfast alone in the kitchen. We fight in the gym after, our sweaty bodies often rolling around the boxing ring in a battle of power, then I spend the deaden part of the days reading in my room. We have dinner together every evening where he teases me about apparently fancying him; wants to know why I don't come down for lunch during the day. He hasn't clocked on to the fact that I need that time alone to mentally come down from whatever he makes me feel. Conversation starts to flow more freely and I gradually ease into spending time with him. Might even look forward to spending time with him. I’m not totally sure yet.
Though he was sold on the idea that I would revoke our deal, I don’t. As much as I want to because our sparring sessions are almost unbearable with this sexual tension that's now constantly between us, and at dinner he talks me under a charm that I start to enjoy, I don't revoke.
Not that it really matters though because with every day between us, the old me is drifting further and further away like a soul being swept by the wind. I find myself getting weak to Charlie's charming seduction, holding conversations with him rather than letting him take the lead. I’m awake before he even comes into my room in the mornings now. I'm desiring him more and more... sneakily looking at him... enjoying the way his body flexes when he moves about... basking in his attention when he talks to me... Hell, I'm even dreaming about him in the most risqué manner—that's what wakes me up before sunrise—and I never usually remember my dreams.
Everything in my mind is narrowed in on him now.
I don't know how this happened. I should fucking hate him—he stole me away from everything I know—but I don't.
The line has gone blurry.
———
“It seems I'm gonna have to work a little harder,” he says, wrapping up my knuckles with stretchy medical bandages. I've been going at it with the punch bag this morning, trying to relieve some of this sexual tension that's in me, and my knuckles are bloody. Charlie took one look at me and said I'm not to fight with naked hands anymore. Not while I'm living here with him. I tried to resist letting him touch me but it was fruitless. By the time his fingers were on mine, I folded.
I cock a brow at him, assuming what he's talking about. The deal. It's the only thing on his mind lately, other than teasing me. He's always teasing me about something; usually over the fact that he knows I fancy him. Or, assumes. I haven't told him the truth.
“I'm sure you will,” I say.
Chuckling to himself, he works on my left hand. I watch him with careful meditation, nodding and shaking when he asks if the bandages are too tight; too loose. He's got his hair tied back today and while this is my favorite look on him, all I can think about doing is yanking out his ponytail and raking my fingers through the strands, steering him to my satisfaction. I want to touch him. I want to run my hands over every bulging muscle under the t-shirt he’s wearing... feel the power in his body... I dreamed about touching him last night; felt the callousness of his body hair under my palms—maybe that's why my mind is twisted this morning?
