Page 66 of The Broker

She’d asked why we couldn’t be friends anymore, and the words tumbled freely from my lips. “Because I want to do this.”

And then I pressed my mouth to hers in a searing kiss.

EIGHTEEN

Noah

Charlotte let out a soft cry of surprise when our lips met. My kiss had startled her for sure, but as it went on, she softened into me. I wrapped my arms around her, and her hands went inside my suit coat, wandering over my chest.

Christ, could she feel my chaotic heartbeat?

Or how much I’d been sweating beneath my suit... and did she know she was the biggest reason for it?

I angled my head to deepen the kiss, and she responded in kind. Her lips parted and her tongue slicked over mine, and I fucking felt the caress of iteverywhere. But I was grateful for it because our kiss had started too sweet. It had been filled with more passion and longing than I was comfortable with.

We’d kissed each other like we’d been starving for it.

I slid one hand down her backside, grabbed a handful of her ass, and squeezed like I wanted to claim ownership. I needed to remind her that this thing between us should be about lust and desire. About two people with similar interests who could help each other out.

It couldn’t be about anything else. Not romance, and certainly not love.

A sound of satisfaction slipped out of her at my possessive grip, and her response was to nip gently at my bottom lip. Her kiss was so provocative and seductive, I got lost in it, and I knew if I wasn’t careful—it’d escalate beyond my control.

And I knew I needed to stay in control.

When I ended the kiss, she looked as woozy as I felt. Were we drunk? Shit, no, we’d only had one drink. Her hands were still on my chest when she leaned back and gave me a dazzling smile.

“Well,” she said, “that’s a relief.” Her expression was victorious, like we’d been playing a game that she’d just won. “Now I don’t have to spend the rest of the night trying to convince you to kiss me.”

I chuckled and gripped the back of the chair, pulling it out for her, because there was a lot of shit we had to talk about. She dropped into it and patiently waited for me to take the seat across from her.

“Whatever this is going to be,” I gestured between us, “your father can’t know about it.”

She snorted like that was the understatement of the year and picked up her martini glass to take a sip. “Obviously.”

I needed her to understand how serious I was. “Because if he finds out, it’s bad for both of us.”

Her cavalier attitude faded somewhat. “Noah, I get it.”

“Do you?” I asked it earnestly. “It’s kind of embarrassing to admit this... but you need to know I’m the kind of person whose entire identity is tied to their career.”

One of my general education classes in college made me take a personality test, and I’d scored the highest marks in the ‘achiever’ category. At the time, I’d written it off, but years later I’d come to realize how painfully accurate it had been.

I was goal driven to a fault, and had no problem making sacrifices as long as they’d get me results. And when I strove forsomething anddidn’taccomplish it? That failure hit me like a sledgehammer.

Charlotte peered at me with a dubious look.

“I was a broker for so long,” I continued, “that’s all I was. That’swhoI was. Making this drastic career change, moving to Warbler, has me feeling,” I searched for the right phrase, “off-balance.”

It wasn’t adequate, but I left it at that. She didn’t need to know how I second-guessed my decision to come back to Nashville on a daily basis. But maybe the drinks had been laced with something because the honesty kept pouring out of me.

“What I’m trying to say is, if I lost my job,” I swallowed thickly, “I’d really struggle.” It came out in a quiet rush. “It might, like, destroy me.”

Her expression softened and she was more serious than I’d ever heard her sound. “I understand.” Her gaze fell to the tabletop and her fingers traced the circle at the base of her glass. “After Zach, I’m beyond my last chance with my parents... so you don’t have to worry about me telling them anything about us.” She attempted a smile, but it was sad and didn’t reach into her eyes. “I kind of like not being homeless.”

We both had good reasons to walk away, and the weight of them hung heavy between us. She was young and impulsive, and although she’d talked about the consequences we both faced, I was concerned she hadn’treallygiven them much thought.

You don’t spend the first twenty-two years of your life being spoiled and entitled, and grow out of it in a few short months.

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