Page 85 of The Charlie Method

Beckett’s smile is all lazy confidence as he watches me with a look that promises very bad things. Will’s is subtler, more reserved, but no less charged.

A bout of activity across the room breaks the tension, drawing my attention away. A slender Black girl in a flowy skirt and white top is stepping onto the small stage, holding an acoustic guitar. She’s joined by a guy who settles behind a set of electric drums. She doesn’t introduce herself, just adjusts the height of the microphone and begins playing a slow-tempo folk song I’ve been hearing everywhere lately.

“I love this song,” I tell the guys. A smile stretches across my face as I start to relax again. “As my dates, one of you bears the responsibility of dancing with me. So which one shall it be?”

“That would be him,” Beckett says immediately, nodding toward Will.

I snicker.

“I mean, Icouldtake you out there,” he relents, “but it’ll just be me grinding against you the entire time—” He cuts himself off. “On second thought, I would love to dance with you.”

“Sit your ass down.” A laughing Will is already getting out of the booth and extending his hand. “I got you, babe.”

After a moment of hesitation, I take his hand.

It’s literally the tiniest of dance floors, nothing more than a little square in front of the stage. At least we’re not alone out there. Another couple is also dancing, which makes me feel less self-conscious.

I loop my hands around Will’s neck. He places his on my waist and tugs me toward him. Our bodies aren’t flush, but there isn’t much distance between them. I feel the heat radiating off him. I run my fingers over the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

He searches my face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” My lips quirk in a wry smile. “Areyou? Because you’re looking a little tense.”

“I’m trying very hard not to squeeze your ass right now.”

My smile widens. “I totally feel your hands hovering over it. They’re dying to move lower, aren’t they?”

“So badly,” he groans.

As we sway to the music, my gaze drifts toward our booth. Beckett was on his phone, but he must sense me staring because he lifts his head and winks at me.

“Do you still find him annoying?” Will asks with a knowing look.

“No.” In a grudging tone, I admit, “I like him.”

“Told you. He’s cool. Funny.”

“And I likeyou,” I say softly.

Will nods. “I’m also cool.”

“But not funny?” I tease.

“Probably more sarcastic than funny.”

I’d already pegged that Will is the more serious of the two. But what I didn’t expect is for him to be so…sexy. He’s exuding some serious sex appeal tonight. A far cry from the boy-next-door vibes he gives off in the lab.

As the song comes to an end, Will bends his head so he can whisper in my ear.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Charlotte. You have no idea.”

Like I said, serious sex appeal.

His husky compliment gets me all warm and gooey. My rational Charlotte side thinks he’s probably just buttering me up so he can get me in bed, but when he pulls back and I glimpse the need burning in his eyes, I know he at least means what he says.

In this moment, he truly craves me.

So does Beckett, whose eyes drink me in when we return to the booth. He licks his bottom lip, and suddenly, I’m dying for a taste. Just a sampler. I don’t have to gorge on the entire hockey player feast, but maybe just a bite.

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