Fuck practicality. Fuck the full house.
I lift my hips and drive up into her once, twice.
She falls apart on my third thrust, clenching around me with a gasp that I swallow with a kiss. I follow her over the edge, groaning into her mouth as I spill into the condom, fingers digging into the nape of her neck, pulling her closer to me as if I can fuse us together.
For a long moment, neither ofus moves.
Then she collapses fully on top of me, chest heaving, heartbeat thundering against mine. Her forehead drops to my shoulder, and she exhales a slow, satisfied laugh.
I stroke her back, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
Mine.
The thought is startling in its possessiveness, its certainty.
But I don’t have time to dwell on it.
Because the moment we both catch our breath, the bedroom door softly rattles—
A knock.
Her body stiffens on top of me.
“Charlie?” Emily’s voice, smug and far too amused, carries through the wood. “Just a heads-up. Y’all weren't quiet.”
She buries her face in my neck with a groan.
I can’t help it. I laugh.
I wake up before my alarm, feeling more rested than I have in years despite last night's activities. Charlie's curled against my side, her breathing deep and even, one leg thrown over mine and her hand resting on my chest. I watch her for a moment, the way her hair spills across the pillow, the slight part of her lips. And I’m instantly transported back to her apartment. Waking up in her bed. Leaving.
Fuck.
This wasn't part of the plan. None of it was. Not the way my chest tightens when she smiles, not the way her laugh has become my favorite sound, not the fierce protectiveness I feel every time Ethan looks at her. We were just supposed to make Ethan feel like a chump that lost an amazing woman, but things have escalated quickly and now I can't imagine going back to just being coworkers when this trip ends.
I carefully disentangle myself, tucking the blanket around her before slipping out of bed. She shifts and buries her face in my pillow, and I have to fight the urge to crawl right back in beside her.
Instead, I pull on sweatpants and a henley, running a hand through my bedhead before padding quietly downstairs. The house is still silent, morning light filtering through the windows and catching on the mountains outside. I pace the quiet kitchen, my mind racing. The familiar urge to bail creeps up my spine. The same instinct that made me slip out of her apartment.
But where would I even go? I'm in Colorado, in her family's house, with my sister and niece upstairs. There's nowhere to run this time.
My hands shake slightly as I open the refrigerator, staring blankly at its contents. This was supposed to be simple. Fake relationship, holiday charade, return to normal. Instead, I'm falling for her—hard—and the thought terrifies me.
"Focus, Montgomery," I mutter, pulling out eggs, bacon, and fresh berries.
Cooking. That's what I need. Something to do with my hands that isn't touching Charlie, something to occupy my mind that isn't imagining a future I'm not sure I deserve.
I find a box of pancake mix, milk, and measuring cups. Pancakes. Everyone loves pancakes.
By the time the coffee's brewing and bacon's sizzling, I've almost convinced myself I can handle this. The rhythm of flipping pancakes steadies my breathing. Maybe I don't need to run. Maybe, for once, I can stay and see what happens when I don't sabotage the best thing that's walked into my life.
I'm cracking eggs into a bowl when I hear footsteps on the stairs.
"Morning Uncle Bash," Addie says, shuffling into the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweatshirt, her dark hair piled on top of her head. She looks about twelve instead of sixteen, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Hey, early bird. Coffee?"
She nods, sliding onto a stool at the island. "Mom says I'm only allowed one cup."
