Chapter 12
Charliewakesmethenext morning with a kiss on my neck. I don’t move yet, waiting to see what will happen next. The bed shifts below him as he stretches closer to me, kissing my lips gently. I roll over, placing my hand on his chest, feeling his rock-hard muscles under my fingers. I could get used to waking up next to him for the rest of my life.
I press my body against his, my fingers dancing their way to the elastic of his boxers. I tease along the strap and his Adonis belt before slipping my hand into his boxers to find that he is already at attention. My eyes flutter open to find his Cheshire Cat grin hovering over me. I stroke him a few times with a firm grip before he rolls over on top of me, pressing his hardness against the softest part of me.
Charlie leaves a trail of kisses from my neck down the vee of my shirt. I wish I hadn’t worn a shirt to bed now, with Charlie’s intended direction clear. One hand finds its way under my shirt to my breast, and his fingers graze over my peaked nipple, exciting the raw nerve endings.
“Good morning, beautiful.” Charlie’s voice is a low whisper, rough with sleep. Yep, I could definitely get used to waking up to the way he looks at me. Eyes bleary with sleep, he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his wallet, which has the last two condoms from Bora Bora.
My hand starts working him more urgently as I think about how good it’s going to feel with him inside of me. I can hear my breath coming faster and more labored. This morning isn’t about gentle exploring or trying to draw out the last throes of pleasure.
He pulls his boxers aside, rolling on the condom before easily slipping inside me, wet and ready for him. I roll over so I am on top again, this time controlling our rhythm. His eyes are alight with passion as he watches me on top of him. I think he likes it when I take charge. Charlie’s hands grab at my hips. My shirt is chafing my skin and I hate the barrier between us. I free myself from the shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it to the side.
“Oh God, Elia.” Charlie’s voice breaks while he reaches for my bare breast. I’m quick, though, grabbing his hands and stopping him. I want to feel his hands on those sensitive nerve endings, but I also want to be in charge. I pin his hands above him, ready to make him beg for it, but too quickly I’m climaxing. I release his hands and dig my nails into his pecs. My head drops back and I’m unable to hold back the moan that scrapes the back of my throat.
With the last shudder of pleasure wracking my body, he swiftly flips me over so we can continue together. He pulls me back from oblivion and I let him. For the first time I can remember, I feel a second smaller loss of control as our moans harmonize. Each of his thrusts become faster and more frenzied and we climax together. As his orgasm floods my body, I drag my nails along his back, needing something to hold on to. We lie there like that for a moment, foreheads pressed together, our hearts beating in tandem. I tilt up and capture his mouth with mine. Charlie leans into the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth, before pulling out. He’s quick to clean up the condom after, shuffling into the master bathroom.
“Good morning to you too,” I murmur as I follow him into the bathroom.
“Sorry, you just looked so tempting.”
“You are literally insatiable,” I chastise.
Charlie turns on the shower and the hot water quickly steams up the large mirror. The bathroom is dreamy. It is certainly one that I have dreamed of. The shower has no door, just a solid glass pane. There are six water pressure nozzles to ensure no stone is unturned. I realize that this is my first time really seeing the space.
There is a gorgeous soaker tub opposite the shower and I’m certain that it's closer to a hot tub fit for three. My mind immediately goes to soaking my weary bones in it after physical therapy.
Charlie kisses the top of my head before getting into the shower. His boxers are tossed haphazardly at his hamper. While he showers, I admire yet again how beautiful his penthouse is. The bathroom is white and grey marble all over. Even though it's his bachelor pad, the vanity has double sinks with vanity lighting around the mirror.
I join him in the shower, wrapping my arms around his midsection as he wipes soap from his eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asks, hands sliding into my hair before it gets wet.
“Didn’t want you to use all the hot water.” I step under the spray of the hot water. Charlie finishes showering first, giving me some alone time while he gets ready.
I thought the shower in Bora Bora was luxurious but it had nothing on this shower. Above me is a pressurized rainwater showerhead that massages my scalp as another nozzle sprays directly at my chest, middle, and legs. There are additional nozzles that spray from the side and the only way I could be covered in more water is if I took a bath.
I scrub the thirty hours of travel off me. There is something that feels just dirty after sitting in recycled air that long. I should have showered as soon as we got home, but between the food and the excitement about brunch, I just pushed it off. Brunch. I think about what I’m going to wear today and what I’m even going to say to Vivian when I see her. We finalized details, including swapping cell numbers, the night before, and the plan is to meet at one. I suddenly realize that my clothing options are limited. Either I have the same threadbare black shirt I’ve been wearing off and on for months with shorts or a coverup from the beach, neither appropriate for December in New York City.
When I get out of the shower, Charlie is arranging a rack of clothes in the bedroom.
“What fresh hell is this?” I ask, gesturing to it as he starts to remove some of the garment bags.
“I may have had my assistant pick up some clothes for you?” He holds his hands out in a ‘what are you going to do’ fashion before returning to what he was doing.
“When?” I ask, puzzling over the clothes he’s still organizing.
“I may have asked Ashley to drop clothes off while we were away. Now just seemed like the perfect opportunity to share them with you.” Charlie doesn’t seem to be bothered by the extravagance, but I am. At every turn he’s whipped out his credit card to pay for things, and I’m left feeling like Julia Roberts inPretty Womanwithout the prostitution, but now that we’re sleeping together, maybe even that line is blurred?
“Why is it you couldn't keep a woman before?” I ask, walking over in my towel to see what Ashley picked. Each price tag is higher than the last and I must look like a cartoon with my eyes bulging out of my head. I start again from the beginning of the rack, looking for the cheapest items, which included a pair of $200 boots and a wool dress.
“Something about being married to the job meant I couldn’t be married to her.” Charlie’s voice is dark as he says this, a subject barely broached. I smash my lips together, watching him turn his back on me to pull on a shirt. The damage his father did to him as a child is still far-reaching.
When he thinks I’m not looking, Charlie pulls the tags off a few of the other pieces, and I’m reminded that his love language is more than touch, it’s giving gifts. It’s making sure I have everything I need even when I don’t know it. I haven’t met his father, but something tells me he wasn’t the touchy feely type. I may not have been able to remember the last five years of my life, but all the psychology classes I took in college seem to have stuck.
“Please have her return the others. I don’t need this much. It’s not like I leave the house, anyway,” I point out, scrounging in my bag for my lotion and scar cream. Charlie plucks my scar cream from my hands, applying it to my leg while I put lotion on my arms.
“You really enjoy that, don’t you?” I ask, watching as he works deep into the tissue with it. I have to bite back a moan that is part pain and part pleasure at how he works the underlying muscle and tissue.