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Charli’s nails dig into my back, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Legs around my waist,” I moan in her ear. “Gonna take you nice and slow. If you need me to stop, you tell me.”
“Okay,” she breathes.
I take my time, getting into a slow, steady rhythm. It’s not until she writhes beneath me that I pick up the pace. It’s been too long, and I’m not going to last. I slide my hand between us to find her sensitive clit. She’s so wet for me.
“Gonna take more, baby,” I warn, and move harder and faster in and out of her heat.
“Em, I’m going to come. I—I can’t…” She trails off as she bucks her back off the bed, a tremor running through her. I lean over, kissing her soundly on the mouth, taking in her scream of delight. That’s all it takes, and I come hard, sinking my teeth into her shoulder to mark her as mine.
I wait for our breathing to regulate before laying her back on the pillows. “Be right back, dollface.” I move to the bathroom, clean up, and bring back a warm cloth. Charli’s cheeks turn a bright pink when I move to clean her.
“I can do it,” she says.
“Yeah, but I’m doing it,” I tell her softly. When I’m done, I pull the sheet up to cover her, but not before I give her nipple a nip. “Be right back.”
I scour the cupboard for crackers and cheese and find her favorite snack instead. I grab the champagne and two flute glasses along with her treat, and make my way back to her. As soon as she sees what I’m holding, she bursts out laughing.
“Pop-Tarts and champagne,” she says with a giggle. “Not quite what I planned.”
“Better,” I reply, and climb in next to her. She takes a giant bite of the strawberry-filled goodness, leaving a trace on the corner of her mouth. I wipe it off with my thumb. “Delicious.” I pop the champagne and pour her a glass, then my own. She takes a sip and smiles huge. She’s happy. It’s simple for her. “This is all it takes to make you happy?”
“Well, yeah. Pop-Tarts are the best. Champagne makes my nose tickle. And you. You’re everything. Thank you for turning what would have been a disaster into the best night of my life,” Charli says, her eyes bright as she shares with me.
“Best night ever.” I force the rest of the champagne down. I still haven’t acquired a taste for it but I couldn’t give a shit. If drinking champagne in bed makes her happy, then I’ll do it. “Fair warning, I plan on making this a weekly ritual.”
“Fine by me, Em.”
I noticed that Charlotte calls me Em whenever we’re in bed. I hated my name for the longest time. Couldn’t wait to get my road name just so I could drop it. But when Charlotte says it, it sounds like the answer to a prayer.
TWELVE
Take a Chance
CHARLOTTE
“Istart back at the diner today,” I remind Wildcard. He’s been pushing to keep me home for another week. It’s been weeks without a paycheck, and although I haven’t touched my savings, it’s time I get back to it.
“Not sure that’s a good idea. All day, on your feet. It’s gonna take a toll.” His brow creases, and he drops his fork.
“Millie’s been doing without for a couple of weeks now. That’s not fair to her either. Saint says I’m fine, and I need to work. There are bills to pay. And now that Noah’s taking school seriously and hopefully is going to apply to a college or trade school, I want him to have an education,” I explain, reaching over to cover his big hand with mine. “Please don’t be upset about this.”
“Charli, all I heard just now is your concern for Millie and Noah. What about you? What do you want? What do you need?”
“What do you mean? I have everything I need. I have a nice home, great friends, Noah, and you,” I answer. “What more do I need?”
He’s struggling with saying what he thinks. I can tell his mind is working overtime, but he won’t share his thoughts. Wildcard diverts his attention back to his eggs, yet continues to hold my hand. He doesn’t say another word until we’re done, and when he does, it’s to tell me to get ready while he cleans up. I think it prudent to leave him to his thoughts. If there’s one thing I learned about Wildcard, it’s that he needs his time to process.
By the time I’m ready to go, Wildcard is waiting at the door for me. As he drives me in to work, I don’t like his silence, and a pang of jumbled nerves start to flutter in my belly. When he helps me out of the car, I feel the need to ask, “Areweokay?” I know it comes off needy, but I don’t care. Wildcard’s the best thing to happen to me, and I don’t want to mess us up.
When he sees how upset I’m getting, he frames my face with his hands. “We’re golden, dollface.” He touches his forehead to mine. “I want more for you. I want you to have everything you ever dreamed of. It’s bugging me that you don’t want that for yourself. But I get it. It’s been a struggle, and you’re still in survival mode. One day, you’re going to fly free.” Each word has emotion behind it. I want to weep for joy that someone could care for me so much, and when I think the moment couldn’t be more perfect, he says, “I love you, baby.” Then his lips touch mine, a soft fluttery kiss at first, then deepening into a soulful, out-of-this-world, stars-bursting-into-flames kiss that I never want to end.
“I love you more,” I say breathlessly.
He smiles. “Not sure that’s true, but you have that for now,” he teases. “I’ll be here at the end of your shift to pick you up. Stay inside. I’ll come get you.” He’s being adorably overprotective, and I love it.
* * *
