Page 102 of The Bad Wedding Date

Hating myself for it, I drew the kiss out and dropped my forehead to hers, my eyes closed as I panted for breath.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

“I have to.”

Her hands froze in my hair, and when I opened my eyes to look at her, she stared up at me with that wide, innocent, yet frightened gaze. I wanted to give her words of reassurance. To be her saviour again and make her see that I was on her side. I wouldn’t hurt her—couldn’t at this point. But none of those sentiments came out, and as her eyes searched mine, I wondered what she saw when she looked at me.

“Are you scared, Fraser?”

“Of what?” I croaked.

“Me.”

Yeah, terrified of what you’re making me feel and what could happen to you if I let you get too close.“Should I be?” I asked instead.

Charlotte shook her head, her lips rising on one corner. “For a moment there, though, I thought I saw a little fear in your eyes.”

“Maybe because my erection is getting painfully intimate with this centre console, and you keep trying to pull me even closer.”

Her laughter came freely, making my own grin grow as she threw her head back and let me go, sitting up in her seat and allowing me to readjust myself while I sat back behind the wheel. That little moment between us had caused the car to steam up, and all it would take would be one of Charlotte’s handprints to make it look like we were trying to recreate a scene from Titanic.

“Come on. Let me walk you to your apartment,” I said.

With a contented sigh, she agreed and let me do just that.

I hadn’t been back inside since that first kiss on her bed, and when that sweet smell of flowers washed over me in the stairwell, it was strangely comforting. How I imagined a real home always would be.

When Charlotte opened the door to her apartment, she turned to me with a smile, silently inviting me in, and that smile made me step across the threshold without a second thought.

Maybe it wasn’t the familiarity of the building or the comforting scent of the flowers that made this place homely.

Maybe it was Charlotte, instead.

“Do you want a drink?” she asked, placing her bag on the kitchen countertop.

All I wanted was her. I didn’t give her a chance to turn around to see me before I swooped in behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist to press my lips to her neck in a way that immediately brought goosebumps to her skin. The smell of coconut sent me into a lust-driven spin, and I growled against her shoulder, moving my hands under her camisole to find her breasts there, waiting to be teased as she wrapped an arm around my neck, pulling me closer to her.

“What is it about you that makes me this way?” I whispered against her skin.

“What way is that?” she rasped, tilting her head to let me in as she arched her back, pushing her breasts into my hands when I ran my thumbs over her tight nipples.

“Reckless. Desperate. Selfish. Needy. Obsessed.”

“Have you always been dramatic?” Her eyes closed as I pinched her neck between my teeth before slowly licking my way up her jaw until I grabbed her lobe into my mouth and sucked.

“Only with you.”

“Good to know.”

“You like it, don’t you?” I growled quietly, her head falling back against my shoulder. “You like being my weakness.”

“There’s a certain satisfaction. I can’t deny it—oh.” Her moan came when I pulled at her nipples, causing her to buckle against me. “Hmm.”

“There isn’t a face of yours I don’t enjoy watching, whether it’s when you’re asleep, when you’re reading, or when you’re lost in thought.” I dropped a hand, pushing it down over her tight stomach until it slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, finding her wet and waiting for me, always so ready. “When you’re turned on,” I whispered, brushing my mouth over her jaw as my finger found her clit. “When you come.”

“Which… is your favourite,” she pushed out between her panting breaths.

“I think you know.”

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