Page 70 of Charlie Sunshine
I jerk back. “What?”
“I want to date you.”
“You don’t date, Misha.”
“Well, I think I might like to start.”
“But why?”
He shakes his head in bemusement. “Why are you suddenly the most difficult person in the whole world? When did this happen?”
I shrug, and he kisses me so quickly that I have just enough time to register the softness of his lips before he draws back.
“I’m not sure what’s going on,” he says. “I don’t have any plans. Fuck, this is the opposite of careful planning. But I want you. I want to fuck you again.” His eyes darken. “I want to keep fucking you because that was the single most intense experience I’ve ever had.” I inhale shakily. “But I also want to be with you, Charlie, and I can honestly say I’ve never had that before. Usually, as soon as I’ve come, I’m preparing to fuck off. If you’d asked me yesterday what I’d do if we slept together, I’d have said that I’d have agreed with the way you skedaddled out of the flat this morning. But then it happened to me, and… You hurt me, Charlie.”
“Oh no,” I say, stepping into his arms and hugging him tightly. Hisbody is hot, and the muscles in his torso are tight under my hands. “I’m so sorry, Misha.”
“I’m not,” he says.
I stare at him disbelievingly.
“Okay, I was fucking furious, but that told me more than I’d have learnt from having along talk.” I glare, and he smiles. “It told me that this is important and that I need more of it. I know I won’t get that with a hook-up agreement.”
“So, you want to date? You don’t dateever.”
“Not until you.” He shrugs. “I can’t explain it any better. I woke up wanting a lot more from you, and you know me, Charlie. I don’t hesitate much with life stuff.” I repress a smile, and he looks suddenly unsure. “What do you think?”
I look at him. Really look at him for the first time today. My best friend is still here standing in front of me. He looks the same as he ever has, but there’s a difference now because I know what he feels like naked against me, the scent between his legs, and how he looks when he fucks me. Completely and utterly focused. And in the end, my decision is easy.
“I want more too, but we have to swear that if this goes wrong, we’ll still be each other’s best friends,” I say.
“Ipromise,” he says fiercely. “I don’t know where this road is going, Charlie, but we’re travelling together, and that’s all I’ll ever need.”
I smile at him, and he makes a funny noise in his throat before pulling me into him and kissing me. His lips are full and soft, the scent of bergamot is citrussy around me, and his body is hard and already familiar against mine. And even though we’re standing in a dark, dusty library foyer, it’s bloody epic and everything I never knew I needed.
THIRTEEN
MISHA - TWO WEEKS LATER
I come awake slowly, lying with my eyes closed and feeling the sun warm on my face and the softness of the sheets against my body. I move slightly and the scent of sex rises up in a dark and warm puff of air. My dick hardens instantly and I open my eyes to find my bed partner.
He’s lying next to me on his stomach with his face turned away. His long hair is a wavy blond mess and the sun plays upon it, glittering in the strands. The sheet is pushed down his body, just barely clinging to the swell of his arse, and his back is a long, lean olive stretch of skin. One leg is out of the sheets, and I’ve learnt that he seems to achieve total comfort by being halfway in and halfway out of the covers. Like he’s doing the hokey cokey with the duvet. Anything else and he gets edgy and dramatically fussy, as if the sheets weigh more than a ton.
I edge closer and flatten myself against him, sighing happily at the feel of his body against mine. His entire gorgeous body—with its soft silky skin and hair-roughened surfaces—is mine to do as I like with. Like a long blond playground.
I rub my fingers over the freckles on his shoulders, smudges ofcolour as if he’s been dusted with cinnamon. He shifts position and sighs, the sound a soft exhalation in the stillness of the bedroom.
I abandon his freckles, fascinating as they are, and cuddle closer. Yes,Icuddle closer. I shake my head. What the fuck is happening to me that I, Misha Lebedinsky, am now cuddling up to my bedmate who is unconscious so my motive isn’t even sex? I bite my lip. This is cuddling for cuddling’s sake. How far have I fallen?
Charlie shifts again and turns over, throwing one long arm over me. He nestles his face into my shoulder and gives a sleepy sound of contentment. My stomach dips in a fashion that’s become familiar to me since I started this with him. It happens when he smiles at me, his blue eyes shining with happiness, when he cuddles up on the sofa with me, when he makes me toast and kisses the crumbs from my lips. It happens all the bloody time. At first I thought I was coming down with something. I even took some Rennie. Unfortunately, I knew even then that this was just the side effect of being Charlie Burroughs’ boyfriend.
Boyfriend. I huff and rake my hand down my face, still being careful not to wake him. I try the word out again. I am the boyfriend of Charlie Burroughs. The man who I thought of as a friend for so long is now the man I look for first in the morning and last thing at night. He’s the person I think of and smile like a twat over during the day. He’s the source of my absentmindedness during work and my intense focus when we’re together.
We’d decided on the first night of being together that, if we were going to do this properly, then we would have to keep our separate bedrooms. We would need to date, he said earnestly. And try to keep some things separate, because otherwise we’d end up breaking up. Space was imperative, according to him.
I’d nodded and agreed and left him at his door with a passionate kiss. I’d also smiled when the knock on my bedroom door came an hour later, sitting up and pulling the duvet back so he could slide into bed with me. He never went back to his own room.
I kiss his forehead, inhaling the scent of pears from his shampoo. It’s always fruity. He changes it every week, and it seems to be entirely dependent on what fruit is his favourite at the time. His silky hair isspread over my chest and tickling my chin. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings. I had my first sexual encounter when I was fifteen. I never looked back, and I never got involved. Until now.
