His hands moved from her waist to the bottom of her bra, fingers brushing the clasp in back.
“I challenge myself to do this,” he said in a rush, undoing the strap and peeling it off. He started to fold it, but Jean yanked it out of his hand and threw it against the far wall.
At first, he could only blink, eyes wide and fixed on a point below her chin. “So pretty,” he finally whispered.
“Are you talking about my boobs?” Jean glanced down, in case they’d gotten a glow-up without her noticing.
“And this,” he said, tracing a finger along the dark edges of the tattoo she’d designed for herself, climbing up her bicep and around the curve of her shoulder until it almost touched her collarbone. “What kind of flowers are these?”
“Plumeria. They have the most incredible scent.”
He bent to press his nose to her upper arm. “It makes me dizzy how good you smell.”
She thought about letting him believe that was her natural fragrance but didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. “That’s gardenia. It’s my perfume.”
“It’s the best smell I ever smelled.”
“Better than baking bread?”
“Mmm.” Charlie rubbed his face along her arm. “Or fresh-cut grass. And… fruit.” He trailed off like he couldn’t remember the names of any specific varieties just then.
“Strawberry?” Jean suggested, thinking he might be looking at her chest.
“Peaches.” His voice was thick, like she’d drugged him. “And cream.”
“You still with me, Dakota?”
He breathed a noise of assent against the inside of her elbow. “I like the birds too.”
“Ravens. They remind me of me.”
“Because of your shiny black hair, or being so smart?”
“Let’s go with that.” Although she would have said cunning, and occasionally obnoxious. His version sounded better.
You really like me, don’t you, Charlie?She kept the words on the inside, not wanting to freak either of them out.
Jean wasn’t a stranger to making a strong first impression. People might be dazzled initially (or possibly shocked), but the shine wore off once they realized she wasn’t interested in being their party monkey—wacky fun, on command!—or watering herself down to be more socially acceptable. It was different with Charlie. His admiration felt too sincere to second-guess. She was still processing the compliment when he wrapped his arms around her ribs and yanked her against him, chest to chest. His face pressed to the side of her neck.
“You feel incredible too,” he said on a ragged inhale.
Jean didn’t answer right away, due in part to how tightly he was squeezing her, but also because she had not seen the hug coming. “You didn’t spin for that,” she said, to cover her surprise.
“Hugs are free.” He gave her another squeeze before loosening his grip slightly. “Did you know a python can feel the heartbeat of its prey as it constricts?”
“I did not.”
“They tighten their coils every time they breathe out, until the blood can’t move around anymore.”
“Just to be clear, that’s not your endgame?”
His laugh rumbled against her stomach. “I promise not to constrict you to death.” He ran a hand up her back, fingers spanning the space between her shoulder blades, and then down herside. The pressure was right on the line between ticklish and not. “I can’t stop touching you.”
“Do your worst.” She licked the hollow of his throat, hoping it would give him ideas.
“Did you know they can smell with their tongues?”
“Snakes?” Jean didn’t really need to ask, but it was part of the fun of being with him. Here we are, talking about reptiles. As one does.
