“Jackson has always done well with the ladies, but um … I don’t know about his kinks.”
“Maybe it’s best you don’t,” I tease.
“Um, no. You can’t ask me something like that and then not continue.”
“Oh, does someone like to gossip, too?” I smirk, questioning him.
“Who doesn’t?” A smile dances across his lips, the dark cloud well and truly gone, and when he lets the sunshine in, he is magnificent.
“Can I trust you?”
“Yes.”
“How do I know that you’re not going to bring this up to Jackson next time you see him?”
“You think there is any conversation Jackson and I can have that would be about his sexual kinks?” Charlie looks at me, horrified.
“I talk about it all the time with my girls,” I tell him.
He stills. “Do they um … know …?”
“About the beach BJ?” Charlie rolls his eyes. “No, they don’t. All they know is there’s this cute guy who wants to be my friend.”
His brows knit together. “Are you embarrassed?” His words are quiet.
“No. I’m not embarrassed, but I also didn’t think it was something you wanted people to know about.”
“You were protecting me?” he questions, seemingly confused that I would do such a thing.
“In a way, I guess I am.” I shrug. “I still think you are one of the hottest guys I have ever met. My attraction toward you hasn’t vanished because of yesterday.” I hate bringing up what happened, but it feels like now is the moment to.
“Wouldn’t blame you if you had changed your mind,” he mumbles, throwing back the rest of his beer. I study him as he fidgets in his seat.
“I’m not a foot kind of guy anyway.”
Charlie stares at me, and the next thing I know, he bursts out laughing, which startles me. “I can’t believe you said that.” What? I don’t understand what’s so bad. He is laughing uncontrollably. Is he having a mental break? I’m starting to be concerned. “I’m sorry, but that was gold,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes. I’m glad I could be of comic relief. Charlie shakes his head. “Sorry, the reason it’s made me laugh so much is my ex told me when he dumped me after my accident that he was a foot guy, and he couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t complete. And the fact you just said that …”
His ex said what?
That he’s not a complete man because he lost his leg defending his country. Who the fuck is this asshole, because I’ll happily rearrange his face for saying something like that to this guy. Getting up, I walk over and grab his face with my hands. “I don’t know who that dickhead was, but Charlie Nash, you are enough.” And then I lean in and kiss his soft lips ever so gently. He stiffens under my touch. Shit. He warned me the other morning that he can be jumpy. I go to pull away, except he drags me into his lap and intensifies the kiss.
He’s kissing me.
Internally, I’m screaming because this giant, moody, damaged man is kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before. His rough stubble chafes against my own, and it sends tingles all over my body. Those thick, pouty lips are devouring my own, then his warm tongue slides against mine and duels for dominance, and I’ll gladly submit to this man because he makes me feel safe in his large arms. Like a cat in heat, I start to rub myself against his hard body, my dick tightening beneath me.
“Derrick,” he says, halting the kiss. No. Come back with those lips. I know what that mouth can do to my dick, and I want to test it again.
“Don’t, please don’t say anything that will ruin this moment,” I warn him as I look down into a swirling storm.
“Please don’t pity me,” he whispers, a tear sliding down his cheek.
“Never. I would never.” Reassuring him, I kiss the tear away.
Charlie stares at me for what feels like forever. “Are you staying?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Nothing can happen,” he warns me.
