Page 97 of Charming Like Us
“This pea podyou’re in with my baby sis—”
“It’s a figure of speech, Os,” I say with a frown.
He goes quiet when I call himOs.We stare deeper, our edged breaths timed together.
Oscar rests the bottom of his beer bottle on his thigh. “Look, I just have to ask…are you interested in Joana?”
My brows shoot up. “She’snineteen.She’s yoursister.”
He groans at himself. “I know. I know.” He rubs a hand down his face. “I’m just reexamining this”—he motions between us—“way too much.”
He’s reexamining us?
I set my beer on the coffee table and stand up. I’m wading in a rougher ocean with him, and maybe I need to offer better reassurance. “If Joana asked me to spend the night with her after the ballet, I would’ve politely declined.”
I could be asleep in a bed right now, but Oscar is the only person I want keeping me awake.
He nods repeatedly, rising to his feet. “I can’t lie, I have reservations and hesitations right now—”
“Why?” I question, breathing harder.
“Because you’re Jack Highland!” he shouts in frustration. “You’re too captivating, too hopeful, too sexy, too determined and bold. You’re the total package—you’re aknockout, bro, and maybe I’m afraid you’re going to knock me out.”
Pulse racing, I step closer. “You think I’m not scared too? I’m running at a half-open window that youalmostkeep closing!”
He chokes on emotion. “What do you have to lose?”
“You!” I yell from my core, eyes stinging. “I could lose you!”
His face twists with raw feelings.
Please fucking believe me.
Oscar seizes my gaze and moves closer like a bullet of desire. He cups the back of my neck, and my fingers dig into his traps as our legs thread. As our firm chests weld together—and we’re kissing. Starved, aching kisses that feel asrawas our sudden declarations.
We rip apart each other’s white button-downs. Opening them to touch skin on skin, his body warm and heartbeat fast.
I want to know Oscar more intimately. What he likes in bed. I want to feel the answers until they shatter me.
He walks backwards while I slide my tongue against his, but he’s the one coaxing a groan out of me. “Oscar,” I breathe, winded against his lips.
Our eyes connect with deeper longing. “We’re going upstairs, Long Beach.”
I’ve leveled up.I’m too hooked on him to say the line. Right behind him, I follow Oscar up to the loft. The ceiling is lower here, and I feel like I need to duck.
While we’re no longer kissing, our bodies no longer touching, we watch one another yank off our black slacks and nerves bubble up. Along with excitement, which I try to grip more strongly.
Oscar studies my face. “You sure you don’t want to talk first?”
Am I sure?
Yeah.
But he makes me stop and question myself. “Do you usually have in-depth talks before getting into bed with a guy?” I wait to strip down since he’s taken a pause, his dark-gray boxer-briefs mold his length and ass. The more I stare, the more my dick pulses.
Blood pumps harder.
Pulse speeds faster.
