“I have an excellent bedside manner.” I wagged my eyebrows at her.
She smiled, but then it quickly fell away. Guilt clouded her eyes.
“Smiling doesn’t make you any less sorry that he’s gone.” I told her quietly, sitting on the table directly in front of her and reaching for her leg.
“I know, but it feels wrong.”
“I get that,” I said. It was the truth. Sometimes living after someone else dies was worse than the pain of them not being there.
I eased my hand around her knee, cupping the sensitive skin and drawing her leg out so her foot rested on the edge of the table in between my legs.
“This will probably sting.”
I didn’t wait for more of her protests, but began cleaning away the dried blood. It was still lightly bleeding and I got angry all over again for what those guys outside tried to do.
Jackasses.
It took two wipes to clean the area and then I dried it gently with a piece of gauze. Because it was still oozing blood, I chose a large Band-Aid and covered the pad with a thin layer of antibiotic cream. She said nothing as I smoothed the large patch over the scraped and bruised area carefully. If my fingers lingered over the silkiness of her skin, neither of us acknowledged it.
Then I reached for her other knee. When I lifted it into place I couldn’t help but notice the goose bumps raised along her flesh. I glanced up; she was watching me.
“Are you cold?”
“A little,” she said, glancing away.
I snagged a blanket off the side of the couch and motioned for her to sit forward so I could wrap the softness around her shoulders. When she leaned back, I tucked the ends around her, over her arms but taking care to leave her hands free so she could hold the water.
The blanket slipped off one arm when I pulled away and I hurried to push it back into place.
My hand brushed over her breast.
Little sparks of electricity shot up and down my limbs. Her indrawn breath caused my insides to tighten. Slowly, I withdrew my hand, the back of it brushing up against her again, and it was impossible not to notice the way her nipple responded even through her clothes.
I remembered the perfection of those dark pink nipples, the way they puckered right in the center of her full, perky mounds…
And I shouldn’t be thinking this way.
I turned my attention back to her knee, ripping open another antiseptic wipe. As I ripped, it flew out of my hand and landed on the floor between the sofa and the table. I bent forward to retrieve it.
The sudden movement caused her foot to brush right up against my cock.
I jerked like someone threw scalding hot water on me. The desire was instantaneous. The need was overwhelming. Of course I began to grow hard; the single brush of her against that part of me was enough to make me come in my pants.
I swear since the second I laid eyes on her, every moment we shared had been some kind of foreplay. Never had any woman teased me so badly without even meaning to.
I snatched up the wipe and sat back, making sure her foot was not within touching distance of my pecker. ‘Course the damage was already done.
I didn’t look at her for fear it would just make me throb more. Instead, I focused solely on her scrapes and getting her injury cleaned up. She made a slight hissing sound when I swiped at the open wound, and I gentled my touch, realizing I was taking my sexual frustration out on her.
“Sorry,” I murmured, still not looking up.
The abrasions on this knee weren’t quite as bad as the other. It was not bleeding at all. After a little bit of internal debate, I decided not to cover this one, choosing instead to let the air get to it.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, putting aside all the supplies and finally raising my eyes to hers. They seemed greener than before, as if the green specks inside the hazel had expanded.
“Nowhere that a Band-Aid can heal.” Her cheeks were still wet from her tears.
Gently, I placed her foot back on the ground, and then I reached up to wipe away what was left of her sorrow.
She turned her cheek into my touch.
My heart literally stalled in my chest.
“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” she whispered.
The pad of my thumb grazed the top of her cheekbone.
“Someone tried to kill me the night he died. They tried to kill me tonight.”
“They won’t stop until we’re dead or they’re in jail.”
“So much death,” she said. “I need some life.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. The need was unmistakable. Her desire mirrored my own. My touch turned not so gentle and the next thing I knew, I was yanking her forward to cover her mouth with mine.
First contact singed me and I groaned. Her lips were like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter’s day: warm and welcoming. Her passion slid all the way down my throat and coated my insides, lighting me up like a match and setting my blood on fire.
I pushed my tongue past her lips and swept inside her mouth, exploring the sharp edges of her teeth, the smoothness of her inner cheeks, and the texture of her tongue. I didn’t stop kissing her even when my lungs begged for air. I needed her kiss far more than my lungs needed oxygen.
When at last I pulled back enough to draw a ragged breath, she made a sound of protest and came forward, catching my lower lip between her teeth and sucking it back into her moist mouth and rolling it around her tongue.
I shoved my hands beneath her arms and pulled her roughly into my lap. She straddled me with ease, wrapping those long legs around my waist and pushing herself more fully into my lap. When my hard length brushed against her middle, she shivered and rocked against me.
Our teeth smacked together when I deepened the kiss, slipping my tongue just a little farther inside her mouth. I wanted to be in her; I wanted as much of me as I could get inside her.
With both hands I squeezed her ass and she rocked against me again, making a little sound of pleasure. Charlotte broke the kiss and sat back, looking at me with eyes wide and swollen lips.
“It’s never felt like this before,” she said, her voice a low whisper.
“Darlin’, you haven’t felt anything yet.”
I knew then I was going to sleep with her. I was going to have sex with Charlotte and I was going to enjoy every single second of it.
She was going to enjoy every single second of it.
There would be no more death tonight. There would be life.
And lots and lots of sex.
20
Charlotte
He reached for the end of the fabric tied into a bow at the side of my neck.
I didn’t stop him.