Page 155 of The Charlie Method

Just one night to regroup. I could meet up with the boys, let loose for twenty-four hours, and then come back here to spend New Year’s with my family.

I hesitate for only a moment before typing back.

ME:

I’m in.

And that’s how I end up at an EDM party near Hartford the following night. I drive out there myself, parking my car in a huge gravel lot behind the sprawling warehouse where the rave is taking place. The cold December air bites at my skin as I step out of the car, adjusting the hem of my dress under my coat. My heart is already racing, and I haven’t even gone inside yet.

I texted the guys when I was five minutes away. Now I watch them striding across the lot toward me, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of them. I haven’t seen them in a week, and I’m startled to realize I missed them.

A lot.

It doesn’t hurt that they both look smoking hot tonight. Will is dressed in a black button-down that clings to his broad chest, paired with dark jeans and boots. His hair is styled away from his forehead, emphasizing his chiseled cheekbones and clean-shaven face. Beckett is rocking his usual laid-back style—fitted jacket over a white T-shirt, jeans slung low on his hips, and that casual, cocky smirk that always melts me.

“Damn,” Beckett murmurs. “That is some dangerous lipstick, sugar puff.”

I opted for a bloodred lip for the night’s festivities, pairing it with a smoky eye, and the appreciation on both their faces is confirmation I achieved the desired result.

Will grins at me. “You’re not gonna make it easy on us tonight, are you?”

“Why would I? I like it when you’re hard.”

That summons a low groan from Beckett. “You’re such a cocktease.”

“You love it.” I laugh before my expression sobers. “How is your friend doing?”

They’d both gone to Vermont last weekend for a funeral—one of their teammates lost his father to cancer last week, which is devastating enough as it is. But for it to happen right before the holidays? Brutal.

“Not great,” Beckett admits. “Shane’s spending the holidays helping his mom sell their house. It’s fucking sad.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I say with a sigh.

“It’s fine,” Will says. “But yeah, probably not the best topic of conversation right before a rave.”

Nodding, I unzip my coat and slip it off my shoulders. “I think I’ll leave this in the car. Don’t want to lose it inside.”

The moment my coat is off, the heat of their stares sizzles into me. The mint-green dress I chose hugs my limited curves, with a plunging neckline that reveals just enough upper boob to make their jaws slack. It’s tight in all the right places, the hem stopping midthigh, showing off my legs.

Beckett eyes me up and down. “Jesus, Charlie. You look fucking unreal.”

Before I can respond, he tugs me toward him, capturing my lips in a deep kiss. His hands slide around my waist, gripping me tight, and static electricity sparks between us, prickling across my flesh. When he finally pulls back, Will is already there, his hand slipping around my neck as he leans in to kiss me too—rougher, hungrier, making me moan into his mouth.

For a moment, I forget where we are. All I feel is the heat of their bodies pressing against mine, the way their hands move like they know every inch of me, claiming me in a way that weakens my knees. Will’s fingers trail down to my hip, and Beckett’s breath is hot against my ear.

“We should probably—” he begins, then clears the lust from his throat. “Stop,” he finishes hoarsely.

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “We need to talk business.”

I blink up at them, still breathless from their kisses. “Did you guys already pay the cover?”

Will nods. “Yeah, that’s all taken care of. Also booked a hotel room nearby, as promised. We got you, babe.”

“And…” Beckett reaches into his pocket. His hand emerges with a tiny clear baggie, which he grasps between his fingers. “We took care of this part too.”

I stare at the teeny ecstasy pill, and suddenly the night feels even more charged.

They actually did it. I’m not even going to ask how they procured the drug. Plausible deniability, obviously. But my heart races at the sight of it. It’s part nerves, part anticipation, but mostly excitement for what’s about to happen.

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