He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m trying.”
I know he is, but I’m so tired of being treated like I’m still fourteen. “If you just met me for the first time and hadn’t been my…” I wave my hand around.
“High school wrestling coach?”
“Yes, that. How would you treat me?”
He shakes his head. “Charlie— Chas?—”
The pleading in his voice not to push this gets to me, but I can’t back down now. “How would you treat me, Brad?”
He steps closer and brushes his fingers down my face. “If I just met you, Charlie, I wouldn’t hold back.” I’m too focused on his words, his touch, to notice he’s pulled out my scrunchie until my hair tumbles around my shoulders. I suck in a breath as he threads his fingers through my hair. “I’d make sure you knew how much I want to kiss you.” And then he claims my mouth.
I melt into the kiss. And damn. Brad knows what he’s doing. Unlike me. His tongue teases my lips, and I gasp, letting him in. I fist my hand in his shirt, pulling him closer, afraid he might stop. We kiss desperately, our tongues sliding together. His mouth is hot on mine.
We kiss for so long that I lose track of time. I don’t want to let him go.
“Charlie, sweetheart, we can’t,” he says, pushing me away.
I reach for him again. Why are we stopping? “Can’t?” I try to catch my breath. Try to think. Then I get it. “Oh.” I touch my lips. “Was I…? Was it that bad?”
He cups my face with his hands. “It was amazing. But we can’t make out in your parents’ house. They could walk in any moment.”
“Oh.” Of course. I cover my face with my hands, wanting to melt into the ground.
“What did you think?” He pulls my hands down and studies my face.
My face heats from embarrassment. “Nothing.”
“It’s not like I can hide how I feel, Chas. When I want you, you know it.” He motions down. The bulge in his pants is visible, and as I stare, unable to look away, it gets bigger.
Oh lord. Thinking is almost impossible.
“Charlie,” he says with a growl, but I cut him off. I have one thing on my mind.
“Can I touch it?”
He sucks in a breath. “No.”
That stings, but I nod. “Okay.”
“No, Charlie. I mean, not yet.” He kisses me. “Can we go somewhere that we won’t be interrupted?”
Oh. Thank God. The smile on my face is huge. “Your place?”
He shakes his head. “Harper, remember? Your place?”
My smile drops. “It’s a mess. Seriously. Embarrassingly so.”
“That’s to be expected. You just moved back. And,” he says, kissing me sweetly, “you did say the bed is put together.”
I rush around my apartment,trying to tidy it before Brad arrives. There’s no fixing the chaos tonight. But I wash the dishes from this morning and pick up my dirty laundry in the bathroom. I feel a little bad about bailing on my welcome-home dinner. I left first so it wouldn’t be apparent. I’m unsure what excuse Brad will make, but I can’t focus on that because I’m too keyed up.
Brad will be here any minute. For sex. With me. God, I’m twenty-seven. Not a virgin. But my last—and only—boyfriend said I was the problem. Too inexperienced. Too awkward.
My stomach lurches. Why did I think this was a good idea?
Is it too late to call it off? I know the answer to that because I know Brad. He’s good and kind and sweet and sexy as hell. I could call it off at any time.
