My knees are already weak. Now they start to tremble, too. All I want to do is say yes. Let him make me submit again. Let him fling me over one shoulder and carry me back into the bedroom, to repeat last night all over again. Instead, I raise my chin. “Actually, about that. What are your thoughts on marriage?”
He freezes, his expression turning to stone. His gaze sweeps across my face, as if he’s checking to make sure I’m serious. “In general, or…?”
I clear my throat, my face flooding with heat. “Kind of. I, um… Funny story.” I force a laugh that sounds borderline hysterical. “I kind of agreed to write an article about marriage, actually. For the magazine I write for.”
“I thought you were an artist.” He raises an eyebrow, staring at me. “The easel and everything on campus yesterday—”
“That was for an article too, actually. The same article. Well, sort of. Except the focus has shifted now, expanded. My editor wants me to do a series on marriage from my own point of view, a personal inside story of one failing—”
“Sorry, you’re married?” Charlie blinks at me now, confused.
“No!” I blurt. “Of course not. Um. But… I need to be.” My cheeks could start a small fire right now, they burn so hot. “For the article,” I add lamely, by way of explanation.
“Oh.” His expression clears. Then shifts again, into understanding. “Oh.”
“It wouldn’t be for real,” I hurry to explain. “I just need to write a few articles about, um, starting a relationship with a traditional point of view, old-school beliefs on marriages. The series will be about how marriages that start with old-fashioned, traditional beliefs behind them never really work out in the end. So, it would end with the marriage falling apart.”
“And you think we’d be the perfect couple to showcase this failure, because we had such a traditional start.” Amusement dances in Charlie’s eyes, lingers behind his smirk.
“Well, you did rescue me from a creep. That’s very traditional damsel in distress and knight in shining armor type stuff.”
He laughs. “But I only asked you out because you were mad at me for rescuing you. I wouldn’t call that an old-school attitude toward gender norms, precisely.”
“Neither is the fact that you know what a gender norm is,” I point out. “But we can make do, right?”
He laughs again, softer now. Then he takes another step toward me, his gaze focused laser-sharp on mine. “If I agree to do this, does it mean I get to spend more time with you?”
My traitor heart skips a beat in my chest. He’s so close to me now that I have to tilt my head to keep my gaze fixed on his, those deep blue eyes of his captivating. For the first time now, in the light of day, I notice there are little twin sunbursts of yellowish green around the pupils of his eyes. When I breathe in, I catch his scent again, the now-familiar smell of him. A smell that was all over me this morning before I showered.
My belly clenches, my thighs tightening together as my evil mind decides to flood me with memories all over again. His body moving against mine, the size of his thick cock when I wrapped my hands around it. The way he pinned me down with those big, strong hands while he fucked me…
Shit.
“I-I guess, yeah, it would,” I manage to stammer, a beat too late, delayed enough that that confident smirk of his widens. He knows he’s getting to me. And he’s enjoying it.
“So you aren’t too busy to see me again after all,” he replies, tilting his head to one side, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I take in a deep breath in an attempt to clear my head. Mistake. It only fills me with more memories of him. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to see you again; just that I’m really busy with work. But since this is for work now…”
“I see.” He laughs softly under his breath. “Good excuse, Lila.” He winks. “I’ll bet you almost have yourself convinced of it too.”
My cheeks flood with heat. “What are you—”
“Come on.” He finally closes the remainder of that gap between us, and lets his hands come to rest on my hips, one on each side, framing me. He leans in, and without thinking, I tilt my head farther back, keeping my gaze fixed on his, my lips parting slightly in anticipation. Kiss me, damn it Charlie… But he doesn’t. He just lowers his voice, quiet and conspiratorial. “You can’t tell me you didn’t spend the whole morning thinking about me,” he murmurs. Just the pitch of his tone makes my blood sing, my thighs tremble. “I know I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His hands trace up my hips to the curve of my waist, slow and purposeful, sending shivers through me with every inch they travel. “Remembering how it felt to watch you scream with pleasure…”