Page 60 of Never Kiss and Tell

So gently I barely feel him, he reaches out, his fingers grazing the flesh where the hickey is hidden.

“What would your Mawmaw think if she knew what you were doing last night?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

His fingertips graze the soft flesh above my collarbone before moving to the front. He grips my throat, barely touching me, but backing me up until my back hits the wall. My cigarette falls from my fingertips, hitting the sidewalk and billowing up smoke.

Charlie’s lips hover over mine, stealing my breath away. “I seem to remember someone desperately grinding on my cock until they came, screaming my name.”

My heart beats in my ears. My mind goes hazy as heat blossoms in my core. My nipples strain, painfully hard against the front of my dress. Instinctively, I arch into him, my breasts grazing his chest. Charlie’s eyes are dark and volatile, like he might snap at any second and take me right here on the Garden District sidewalk.

“You think you’re the first man to make me come fromfucking me? I did all the work last night,” I point out, my breathing ragged. “I fucked you.”

Charlie’s other hand reaches for me, gripping my hip hard enough to bruise and pulling my front against his. His erection presses into my stomach and a heavy weight settles between my legs.

“Go back to the party or you won’t be able to walk for your shift tomorrow.”

He releases me, stepping back and stealing his warmth away. I stumble, catching myself on the wall as my pulse hammers in my chest. Charlie walks across the street to his truck.

“Just remember,” I call to him. “Mawmaw likes me.”

I don’t wait for him to turn back around. I don’t have to. I saw the tension in his shoulders and it brought joy to me to know that I could have even an ounce of an effect on him like he does me.

“There you are,” Andi says as I rejoin the table in the garden. “Did you get lost and get directions from a sucker fish?”

My hand darts to my neck. That fucking asshole.

“I burnt myself with my curling iron this morning. I must have wiped off the makeup.”

Lionel hides his amusement by sipping his cup of tea, but Andi seems to buy it, though, she doesn’t have much of a choice when Camille announces it’s time for presents.

Lionel chuckles, reaching under the table to pat my knee. I can tell what he’s thinking and I agree with him wholeheartedly.

Charlie and I are playing a dangerous game and sooner or later, one of us is going to lose. Something tells me it’ll be me.

Charlie

Why is it that the things you can’t have are the most tempting? Like a kid with a cookie jar or an alcoholic in an AA meeting.

By the time I get to the gym, my shoulders ache from being so tense lately. After last night, I seem to be struggling to remember the reason I never fucked Bailey. Perfect little body, sexy little smile, and fuck, that voice. It’s been engrained in my head all day, moaning my name while she came.

If that cop hadn’t shown up, I would have taken her to the backseat. Thank fucking God or whoever was looking out for me because even I’m not that big of an asshole.

Bailey deserves better than what I can give her and I think that’s why she’s always pissed me off. Hating her isn’t about her. It’s self-fucking-preservation. She deserves candles and rose petals and all the rest of that romantic shit that I don’t buy into. Someone who will bring her flowers home once a week just because and someone who won’t have any problems openingup about their feelings.

Not me. And definitely not fucking Drew.

Let’s just say, if I ever see him in New Orleans, I’ll beat his ass on principle. The fact that he still works for her stepfather tells me all I need to know about her family. When you side with the man that abused your daughter over your own child, I take an issue with that.

Seeing Bailey on the sidewalk outside Camille’s house reminded me of her at her parent’s mansion in California. She didn’t look like herself. The Bailey I know, the sweet, unguarded Bailey, is the one that works her ass off at the bar and buys weird shit at the art show. The same Bailey that slow dances with me in rundown crawfish joints and busts my balls any chance she gets.

Don’t get me wrong — the Bailey I saw on the sidewalk is beautiful, but she’s not happy. I almost kissed her because she’s been stuck in my head since we separated last night, but it didn’t feel right. Like she had her walls up, blocking me out.

Sam and I go hard, sparring for most of the afternoon until neither of us can take anymore. I’m out of breath, wore the fuck out, and I feel fucking fantastic. Or I would if I didn’t have the feeling of Bailey’s lips on mine burned into my senses.

“What’s gotten under your skin today?” Sam asks, nursing his lip with a chunk of ice. I’ll admit, I hit him a little too hard, but the motherfucker was talking shit.

“Nothing,” I murmur. A little blonde with a fucking attitude I can’t resist. “Just feeling it today, I guess.”

Sam tosses me a clean towel and I drape it around my neck. I’m soaked in sweat and my muscles hurt. I haven’t gone thishard at practice in a long time. Probably since I got out of jail for fucking up Peter.

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