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Her apartment is on the ground level in front, right where I parked my car. Her mustang sits right beside my rental. I knock twice on the door, placing my hands in my jogger pockets and taking a step back.
It doesn’t take her long to answer. When she does, my stomach drops out as my heart rate kicks into high gear. Holy fucking shit. She looks edible standing in front of me in a tight, thin spaghetti strap tank top. My eyes instantly go to her breasts. I can practically see her nipples through the shirt. She’s in short shorts, her long, bare legs on display.
My eyes rake up and down her body, taking my time on every inch of exposed skin. After several breathtaking moments, my gaze finally takes in her face. Her left eyebrow is raised, and her right hand rests on her hip.
She leans against the door, taking me in as well. “Are you just going to stand there? Or you are coming in?”
“Oh, I’m definitely coming in.”
I smirk as I move past her, brushing against her chest as I enter her apartment. Her sharp intake of air at our contact makes my cock harden. The need I feel to pull her into me is almost too much to bear, but I refrain as I move farther into her apartment.
Looking around, I smile at just how “Charlie” the space is. It’s fun, vibrant, full of color and life. Her furniture is on the eclectic side. It’s a mismatched style. The one thing everything seems to have in common is how comfortable it all looks.
I spin and take in the kitchen just to the right and a hallway leading to what I assume is her bedroom. My thoughts instantly turn dirty. She closes the door, the silence eating up the space between us.
She finally breaks it. “Did I see you fixing your hair out there?” Her thumb points to my car, which can be seen clearly from the living room window.
Busted.
I shrug my shoulders, embarrassed I got caught. She giggles a little and moves into the living room and closer to me.
“Want something to drink? Eat?” she asks.
I smile. She’s so cute when she’s playing the part of nervous hostess. “Yeah, I could use a drink. What do you have to eat?”
“Well, I’ve been playing around with this new muffin recipe. Want to try one?”
“Hell yeah, I do.” My hands rub together in anticipation.
She snickers before going to the small but tidy kitchen. She tips her head to the side and gestures toward a barstool, silently telling me to take a seat at the bar. I do as I’m instructed, my skin itching to command her in other ways.
She takes down a glass and opens the refrigerator. “I have milk, lemonade, water, a few beers, and soda. What’s your fancy?”
I want to be dead-ass sober for whatever may happen tonight, so I choose the water. She slides a bottle in front of me, turns toward the stove, and picks up a container full of muffins. Her tight, pert ass is on full display in front of me. My mouth waters as my mind wanders to all the fun things I could do to that perfect ass of hers.
She places two delicious smelling muffins in front of me. “It’s lemon poppy seed. I’m thinking about adding it to the café menu if Irene and Andrea like them.”
I take a huge bite of one, the lemon flavor exploding in my mouth. I moan and mumble, “So fucking good,” around the full bite.
A giant smile beams from her as pinkness tints her cheeks. Damn, that’s a good look on her. My mind immediately tries to come up with ways to make her blush like that again.
It’s quiet for a minute as she watches me eat, and I’m mesmerized by her. I take in her clean, makeup-free face. Her clear, almost emerald eyes. And I notice a row of freckles dot the bridge of her nose. She’s breathtaking.
I swallow my last bite. “You could make those for me every day for the rest of my life, and I would die a happy man.”
A smirk overtakes her face, then it falls in the next second. A nervousness that is so unlike Charlie overtakes her features. I brace myself for her to kick me out. Calling it a night and leaving would be the gentlemanly thing to do, but I’m no fucking gentleman.
“What is it, Charlie?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip for a second. My eyes automatically drawn to the area.
She releases it with a pop. “What do you want from me?”
Her question hits me square in the chest, but it only takes me a heartbeat to respond. “Whatever you’re willing to give me. I’ll take it all.”
Her eyes darken at that, and a palpable energy zings through the room. I shove the plate away from me and stand, then round the bar so I’m right in front of her. Our chests are so close that when I inhale, my stomach presses against her chest.
I breathe out the same question. Scared to hear her answer but also terrified to not ask it. “What do you want from me?”
