I can’t let him be that mistake.
Not him.
He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. ‘It wasn’t just sex, Charlie. You know that. You ever come like that before?’
I don’t answer.
‘Thought so,’ he mutters.
A beat passes. ‘Callum was…my first,’ I blurt. And I hate that I need him to know this. ‘And…my only.’
His expression goes dark. ‘You’re shitting me.’
I stare at the wall. ‘We were together for almost two years, and—’
‘And that prick didn’t know what to do with you, did he?’
I try to play it off. ‘It wasn’t that bad. It was…okay.’
Brodie curses under his breath, working hard not to let it piss him off too much. ‘Jesus, Charlie. Okay is not enough. Never enough. You deserved better than that. Still do.’
I look at him then, and his eyes are darker than usual, heat simmering under the surface. It makes my skin tingle, and I hate that I want him all over again.
‘You don’t need that much experience to understand last night was fucking phenomenal,’ he says and almost sounds like he’s arguing with himself. ‘I’ve been around, Charlie. Coming together like that, first go? Can’t fake that kind of connection. That’s rare.’
His words hit low, right where I’m soft and aching. I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all. Just stare at my hands, fingers twisting together.
‘You fucking melted on my cock, Champ.’ He reaches out, brushes his knuckles under my eye. ‘You deserve someone who makes you feel like that every single time.’
My eyes burn. ‘I’m not looking for that. I’m not looking for anything.’
He scoffs. ‘Right. Too focused on your agency to let someone take care of you.’
Anger flares up inside me. ‘I have too much at stake. I can’t afford to lose my head over you.’
‘You wouldn’t. You’re way too stubborn for that.’
‘I mean it.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, I heard you. Doesn’t make it any less bullshit.’
I exhale hard, tension winding through me, and he seems to sense it because he lets his hand drop, backing off without pushing. Only makes me want to throw myself at him more.
No.
No. No. No.
I’ve done enough damage already. To him, to myself, to my company.
I shove back the covers, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and stand up.
Distance. I need distance.
I go to the dresser, rummage through my suitcase, ignoringthe burn of his stare on my back.
‘You’re not wrong,’ he says calmly. ‘You’ve got your career. I’ve got my game. We’re both trying to prove something. But don’t fucking stand there and act like last night was just a nice shag.’
I grip the dresser, glaring at the floor. ‘It wasn’t. But we can’t—’
