Page 71 of Charlie Sunshine
Tendrils of emotion are growing inside me, soft and silky like his hair but just as binding, and they make me think of him, consider his happiness before my own. I’ve always considered Charlie’s happiness, but these impulses are stronger and much less controlled. I’m just not going to put words to what they mean yet. I look down at Charlie and smile. Not yet, anyway. I want to enjoy him for now. Get to know him. I thought I knew everything about Charlie Burroughs, but I’m realizing now that there’s a large chunk of him I don’t know.
I was aware he loved pepperoni and pineapple on his pizza and that he was allergic to penicillin and strawberries. But now I know that he’s wildly affectionate in bed, free with his hugs, and confident and sure in his nakedness. I know that when I put my hand on his back as we walk, or rush to open the door for him, his face will light up and he will give me a smile I’ve never seen before. It’s warm and soft, and when it’s directed just at me, it’s as potent as drinking a bottle of wine.
For the last couple of weeks we’ve been to work and then fallen back into bed together the moment we’re home. And not just bed. I’ve fucked him against the wall in the living room, over the kitchen table, and once on the balcony where he’d impressed on me that we had to be very,veryquiet but then proceeded to shout my name at the top of his voice when he came. I have a suspicion that the residents association might want a chat at some point.
Normally, I’d be thrilled with having so much sex that my dick actually feels chafed, but I can’t deny a little thread of worry. I know Charlie and his dating history far too well to even consider that he’ll be okay with this for long. Charlie Burroughs is a romantic. And me? Well, I’m not. I hate all that soppy crap, but what I hate more is the thought of him being disappointed with me and walking away from us. That makes me feel sick, and he stirs as I clutch him way too close.
“Oof,” he mutters, his lashes fluttering as he looks up at me. “Mmm, morning,” he whispers and reaches up to kiss me. His lips are full and soft, and I feel like I’ve stepped into a warm cloud for a second. Then I pull back and look down at him.
“Morning.” I clear my throat quickly. “You slept well.”
He chuckles and hugs me tight, sliding one leg over mine and nudging his knee gently over my very interested cock. “That’s because someone shagged me senseless last night and again in the early hours of the morning and—” He looks at the clock. “And because it’s two in the afternoon. Fucking hell.”
I stretch and lie back against my pillows. “It’s Saturday. We had a lie-in.”
“Youhad a lie-in? Say it isn’t so.” His hair tumbles round his shoulders and his eyes warm as he gazes up at me. That feeling in my stomach comes again. I want to grab him and kiss him and squeeze him and never let him go. Apparently, I’m fifteen again.
I shrug. “I like lie-ins with you, not with anyone else.”
His eyes get warmer, and he gives me that smile again. The one I’m growing to adore and will apparently do anything to get. I think of the tickets and swallow.
“I thought we’d go out tonight,” I mutter.
He eyes me and rolls over onto his stomach, resting his arms on my belly and propping his chin on my torso. “Why?”
I shrug awkwardly. “I don’t want our entire time to be spent in bed.”
“Why?”
I glare at him and the naughty tilt of his mouth tells me he knows exactly what I’m trying to say, but the wanker is still going to make me say it.
“Because I don’t want the stuff I’ve had before. The fucking and clearing off.” I pinch his hip, and he writhes and chuckles before coming back to watch me with that bright gaze. “I want the Charlie Burroughs experience.”
“And what is that?”
I put my arms behind my head and stare up at the ceiling contemplatively. “I want dates where we go out for meals and long walks. I want to do fun things with you so I can hear you laugh. I want to know more about you, because I’ve learnt that being your best friend got me insider info but it didn’t get me everything.” I look down at where he’s watching me intently. “I want the full backstage pass,sunshine.”
His smile widens, and his face glows. “That does sound perfect, Misha.” He brushes hair from his face. “So, where are we going?”
I bite my lip. “I bought us tickets,” I say tentatively. “And if you don’t like the idea, don’t worry. Just tell me.”
“Tickets to where?” He sits up excitedly and the sheets pool in his lap, revealing the width of his bare chest covered in sleek golden skin and more freckles. The sun dances on him like he’s covered in pollen.
“Hmm,” I say, stroking my hand down that chest and following the line of hair under his cute belly button to where the sheet blocks my view. “Ouch!” I say as he slaps my hand.
“No hanky panky,” he warns. “Where are we going?”
“Hanky panky? Is this suddenly the nineteen twenties?”
“Misha,” he warns me.
I groan, throwing my hand over my eyes. “I might have bought us tickets to see a play at the Globe.”
“The Globe?” He sounds stunned.
I remove my hand and wince. “Is it not right? I just thought what would Charlie like, and then searched around for whatever arty shit was on this weekend. I saw their programme and thought you’d enjoy it.”
“Oh my God,” he says loudly. “This is the best date idea I’ve ever heard.”
