After pulling into my road, he drives up to my house and parks on the drive. He switches off the car and I nervously fiddle with the handles of the bag. “Thank you for such a great night,” I announce.
His pupils dilate and his eyes darken, smouldering with that intense burn. “It should be me thanking you.” He pauses, his lips parting as if he wants to continue, but then decides not to.
My shoulders slump. He isn’t going to bring it up and I don’t have the courage. Or maybe I just don’t want to hear the answer.
I unclip my belt before pushing the door open. I slide my legs out before stopping, turning back to him. “Can I ask you something?”
Interest piqued, he nods. “Anything.”
“Last night…” I close my eyes, and then shake the dark thoughts threatening to loom over me. When I open them, his expression is still as intense as ever and a shiver races down my spine.
“What about last night?”
“Can I count that as my first time?” I whisper, my fingers tightening around the handle of the bag.
The look he gives me has my clit pulsing and my heart racing.
“Of course,” he hoarsely replies.
I lean over the handbrake and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. And for last night. See you soon, Drew.”
“You too,” he whispers as I get out, slamming the door behind me. I watch him drive away before heading inside, a big smile on my face.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHARLOTTE
Fingers tighten around my wrists, pinning them above my head as he pumps inside of me.
The sound of our skin slapping together, our heavy breathing, and the moans and groans… it’s thrilling.
“Harder,” I beg, sliding my fingers down his broad, muscled back.
His lips, feather light, press against the sensitive area on my neck, and an electrical pulse runs over my body.
“Earth to Charlotte,” Rose says, clicking her fingers in my face.
My cheeks immediately heat as I pull myself out of my mind and the dirty images that have been filtering through since Drew dropped me off yesterday morning.
“Sorry,” I reply absently, my thoughts drifting back to the night in question once more. I was bent over the end of the bed, and Drew’s fingers were digging into my hips while he powered inside of me.
I think I whimper.
“Are you okay?”
I blink, reaching for the coffee mug to distract me, and grimace. “I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t get much sleep last night. It’s good to see you.”
And I didn’t sleep much. Because I was too busy researching sexual positions to see which ones we hadn’t done. I fell asleep with a list in one hand and a book in the other. But I wanted to know if Drew was right and that I’d never say, ‘I’ve never done that before’ again. He was right and wrong. The positions left were a little unorthodox but I couldn’t deny I was curious to see if it was possible to do them. And then there’s the argument about location.
Rose pulls a chair out across from me before taking a seat. “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“I heard something happened between you and your ex. Was his name Scott?”
My breath hitches at hearing his name. “Who told you about Scott?”
“I overheard the receptionist and another woman.”
I blanch at that, uncomfortable with members of staff talking about me, especially with the thought of them talking to a family member of mine. I don’t want people knowing.
“He wasn’t who I thought he was,” I admit.
“They never are.”
I force out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”
I don’t think that. With Drew, he is who he is and he gives no fudges. It’s one of the things I like about him. He doesn’t pretend to be anyone other than who he is.
“You don’t have to talk about it with me but I am here if you need to. Sometimes speaking to someone who isn’t family does the world of good. I mean, it must not be good to have family members judging you, or have that feeling that you’ve disappointed them.”
Her words hit close to home. I don’t think my family are judging me per se. I know they love me too much and they care. But sometimes when one would say, they knew he was wrong for me, or that I have changed, I do feel judged. Their words do impact me and make me feel low.
I duck my head because I do feel like I’ve disappointed them. It’s like she’s pushed herself into my thoughts and read my insecurities out loud.
“He hurt me,” I admit on a whisper.
“Did that fucker cheat?”
I snort, because it wasn’t me he cheated on, it was his wife. “It wasn’t me he was cheating on, it was his poor wife. I didn’t even know until the night I slept with him for the first time.”
Her eyes widen. “You are shitting me. What a fucking arsehole. What did the wife say?” she rants. “And at least it wasn’t your virginity. How fucking shitty would that be, having a guy do that to you? I mean, how would you be able to move on and trust after that? And his wife, I wonder how she is.” When I don’t say anything, her eyebrows shoot up. “You were a virgin?”
I glance around the mostly empty library. “I was, yes,” I whisper. “And I don’t know anything about his wife. The only reason I found out is because I picked up his phone and saw a message.” Tears gather in my eyes. “They had kids. Those poor kids.”
“She doesn’t need your pity,” she tells me. “She needs to be rid of that husband of hers. Does she know?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He hurt me that night, really bad, and the police are looking for him.”
“What the heck? He ran away like a coward?”
I lower my eyes to my cup of tea. “He never told me his real name. He lied about that too. Or at least his last name is a lie.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”
Tears gather in my eyes. “I just feel like a fool.”
“Be glad you aren’t the wife.”
“I know. She has it worse than me. I just keep thinking I’m the reason they might have broken up. Or maybe she doesn’t know. I have no clue. The police are still looking for him.”
“Did he hurt you before then?”
“He didn’t just hurt me,” I admit, feeling ashamed. But after my night with Drew, I have come to terms with the fact that what he did was wrong. Whether or not I said yes from the start, that I was the one who suggested it, I still said no. My night with Drew opened my eyes. Whenever I asked him to slow down, he did. If I asked him to go faster, he did. Not once during our time together did I ever think he’d take advantage or carry on if I wasn’t comfortable. I can’t say I would have felt the same if it had been someone else, and it kind of scares me to wonder what that means.
“What did he do?”
“I asked him to stop, and he didn’t,” I tell her, before straightening in my seat. “It’s not something I feel comfortable talking about. I’m still conflicted over the whole thing. On one hand, I know what he did is sexual assault, yet on the other, I feel like I asked for it.”