Page 44 of Take It Offline

I think I could roast marshmallows on my cheeks.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I croak out, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I look back at my list.

The pros are numerous.

On the cons side, there are two words.

One name.

Charlie Walker.

Hours later, when Charlie drives me home, I decide it’s not a con at all.

CHAPTER 16

PRESENTING A DEAL TO THE DEVIL

EMMA

The first time I remember enjoying sex, or more specifically, the first time I understood whyother peopleenjoy sex, I was alone.

It was a relief at the time, to finally get it, but I really, really want to enjoy it with someone else.

Kissing and touching. Lips and fingers trailing my neck and a hot body over or under, in front or behind me. Somebody else’s skin under my hands, the salt and sweat and taste of them on my tongue. The hot press of them inside me.

It’s all so wonderful… until it’s not.

Because sex is a journey with a destination. A destination I can never arrive at when I’m traveling with a partner.

I’m sick of explaining it. Of thinking about it. Of wishing I was different.

I’m going to guess that, in Charlie’s life, the count of unsatisfied women is zero.

How could it not be? Look at him. This is a guy with techniques. He’s going to hear “I can’t come,” and take it as a personal challenge. New objective unlocked.

I only hope that if (when) it fails, he doesn’t hate me more than he already does.

“Isn’t this cozy,” Charlie says. He’s casually sprawled on my sofa, his arm out, one foot balanced on his knee, looking like an invitation. Corner of his smile clicked into place like taking the safety off a gun.

No doubt he still tastes of danger and coffee.

He’s still in his suit, but this is the most relaxed I’ve seen him. Collar undone, tie loose, cuffs rolled. It’s giving him a rugged, off-duty look. Combined with his leather bracelets and tanned forearms, he is the definition of delicious.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask, stalling.

Charlie declines with a shake of his head, which is good, because I only have water and coffee.

I don’t host. It isn’t a skill I ever took to, something I’m sure keeps my mother awake at night. And in the last several years, I’ve had little opportunity. Logan always preferred his apartment, and Ivy comes prepared.

Hands sweaty and courage fading, I clear my throat. This is it.

If I go ahead with this, our relationship won’t be the same.

Time to rip off the Band-Aid. “I have a proposal.”

Charlie immediately nods. “I’ll do it.”

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