Who was I kidding? I didn’t stand a chance after the second day she came back to the office after being fired, as if nothing happened. I should have known then this girl was going to own me by the balls. I should have definitely known she’d defeat my defenses by her simple acceptance to sleep both at my apartment and in my bed. She’s much more unflappable than I thought, this girl I’ll be marrying shortly.
Fucking marrying.
After Friday night, is it really possible that I’ll be able to let Charlee go? I give it some serious thought and shake my head. No. I don’t think it is, which means one thing: not only am I going to have to make sure she marries me, I have to make sure this girl knows how important she is to me before she decides the marriage is over.
But how do I make sure she won’t want to walk away?
Leaning back on my stiff couch—Charlee was right, I should hire someone to break this in—I pick up my phone and find her number. I haven’t text her all weekend but before we see each other tomorrow morning, I want to make sure we’re good. That she’s good. That she’s not regretting anything that happened between us, because I sure as shit don’t.
I type out a text to her and send it.
Rath: Have a good weekend?
It’s simple, but a good opener. Thankfully, she doesn’t make me wait long for a response. From the ding of my phone, I mute my TV as if it was bothering me in the first place.
Charlee: Had a great weekend with Grandma. She’s looking a little more spirited, which is great to see and of course, she can’t stop talking about the wedding. I told her the date. I hope that’s okay.
Rath: Of course it is. Tell her whatever you want.
Charlee: Well I didn’t tell her everything . . . if you know what I mean.
Rath: You mean you didn’t tell her how you woke me up the best way possible, with my dick deep inside of you?
It might be a little too much, too fast, but it’s also a good tester to see where her head’s at. Plus, just thinking about yesterday morning, shit, I want to wake up like that every morning with Charlee riding me. I can still feel her warmth surrounding my cock, and how her pussy clenched so tightly around my length that I fucking blacked out. Legit, the lights turned out in my brain and I thought nothing, except the feel of every inch of that woman.
Charlee: Definitely didn’t tell her about your wake-up call.
Rath: Might have made her hair whiter than it is.
Charlee: If that’s possible.
I stare at her text and try to figure out what to say next. Do I ask her if she’s okay? If we’re okay? Do I ask if she wants to come over tonight? What about tomorrow, what happens if I kiss her in the office, is she going to be pissed about that?
Before I can think of something good to say, she texts me again.
Charlee: Going to eat dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I study the text. It’s not very warm; actually it’s almost cold. Normally she would have said something like see you tomorrow, boss man bridegroom, or some stupid shit like that. Does this mean she’s regretting what happened between us? If I think about it, she left abruptly on Saturday. Yes, we had one hell of a fucking kiss at the door, but that was it. She’s been radio silent ever since then.
Shit.
I push my hand through my hair. I think she’s backing away, which I can’t let happen because if there’s one thing I learned this past weekend, it’s that Charlee can’t go anywhere, not now that I know the exquisite taste of her. Not when she’s my bride to be. This girl is something special.
Which means, I need to show it.
The floors count off as I ride the elevator. Nerves jump in my belly the closer I get. I know she’s there—she’s always there before me and the minute I see her—I’m going to make sure she knows just how happy I am to see her.
I had flowers delivered this morning, and hopefully they’re already on her desk. I have a special lunch arriving for us later, and I plan on working—and staring at her all day.
The elevator dings and I prep myself, adjusting my suit jacket. I went with black on black today, no tie, the top few buttons undone . . . because I know she likes that. I see her staring at my chest often when I wear my shirt like this so I made a point to be casual this morning. A lite spritz of my cologne, a generous amount of mouthwash, and just the perfect amount of hair product.
I’m never nervous but hell, getting ready this morning felt like getting ready for a first date, which is crazy because this is Charlee. She’s seen me at my worst. Hell, she’s seen me at my best, and she knows the ins and outs of me. I shouldn’t be nervous around her. I should be used to her at this point, but still, what we started is new and this is almost “the morning after.” I want to make a good impression.
The door parts and just like every other morning, Charlee’s standing in front of me, looking like a goddamn angel in a form-fitting white dress that hits just above her knees. Her hair is styled in smooth waves with one side tucked behind her ear. Her makeup is minimal, gently highlighting her beautiful features, and instead of a smile, she has a concerned look on her face.
Wait . . . concerned?
Nervously, she says, “Good morning, Mr. Westin.”
My eyes narrow. “What did I tell you about that Mr. Westin shit?” I step forward and grab her around her waist, pulling her in close to my body. She makes a surprised sound right before I lower my mouth to hers, letting my lips show her just how much I missed her this weekend.
And instead of the welcoming woman I was hoping for, she’s stiff in my arms, her hand against my chest, pushing me away.
What the fuck?
When I part our lips, I say, “Is everything—”
Someone clears their throat and immediately my head snaps up to find Bram and Julia holding hands only a few feet away. Jesus Christ, how did I miss them?
Releasing herself from my grip, Charlee clears her throat and says, “Mr. Scott and Miss Westin are here to see you.”
Shit. Her face is bright red and she looks so embarrassed. Not a good start.
Bram holds his arms out and says, “My turn. I just put ChapStick on, so my lips are ready.”
Sharpening my gaze at my best friend, I point and say, “Go wait for me in my office.”
I can see another snide remark forming on my friend’s lips but before he can let it loose, my sister thankfully tugs his hand and directs him into my office where they shut the door.
When the cost is clear, I turn to Charlee and say, “I had no idea they were—”
She reaches up, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me in for a kiss. This time, she isn’t stiff. Nor is she pushing me away. No, she’s holding me close.
This time, her lips demand something from me.
This time, her body presses sensually against mine.
This time, she makes the sweetest, sexiest moan when I pull away.
“Christ,” I exhale a sigh of relief, leaning my forehead against hers. “I thought you were mad at me.”
She shakes her head, her cheeks still flushed. “I mean, that was sort of embarrassing since they don’t know what’s going on between us, but that’s for you to deal with, not me.”
“I meant this weekend,” I confess. “You seemed distant and then after our first interaction this morning, I was worried.”