Page 20 of Charlie

"I'm good," I mumble, unable to keep a grin from spreading over my face.

He jogs toward me, all hot and sweaty and gorgeous. I do the first thing that pops into my head – turn toward the water and run. I pump my arms, pushing my legs as hard as they'll go. He splashes into the water a second after me, twisting under me as he tackles me to the sand. We freeze, our gazes locked. A wave crashes into us, arcing over our bodies.

"Fuck, this is hot," Lachlan breathes. He pushes my hair away from my face and cradles my head in his hands. Another wave crashes over us, the force knocking us apart, shattering the moment.

It's pitch black when we pull back into the curved driveway at the house. His hand is warm in mine as he pulls me out of the car. I hold on for a second longer than I should, and his thumb swipes over my palm, leaving my skin tingling.

"I'll walk you down to the cottage. Can't have you breaking an ankle on your first night here." He says, rummaging in his trunk and pulling out a flashlight. He grabs my hand again, almost as if by reflex, then drops it abruptly.

"Sorry," he mutters, continuing on the path. I slam into him when he stops suddenly. His hands wrap around my waist, steadying me. With the flashlight pointing at the ground, I can only see the glitter of his eyes. "If I'm being completely honest, I'm not sorry." He stares down at me, emotions warring in his eyes. Finally, he turns, linking his fingers with mine, not letting go this time. "Why do I feel like I've known you for years?" he rasps, leading me toward the cottage.

I clear my heart out of my throat. "I've always thought it means we were connected in a past life. Nothing else makes sense."

He nods as if it makes perfect sense. We stop at the cottage's front door, the light haloing his head. He clicks off his flashlight and pockets it, grabbing my other hand in his. "I don't want to say goodnight." Pulling our linked hands up, he traces my fingers with his other hand.

"Then don't," I blurt. I take a deep breath. "Is there anything to drink in there?"

"Of course. What kind of a host do you think I am?"

"Come on, then." I pull him inside, closing the door against the blustery wind.

"Charlie." He pauses, hanging his coat on the hook. "I didn’t come in because I expect anything. Just want to get that out in the open."

"I know." I smile. He pushes a broad hand through his hair, his watch glinting in the dim light. "How 'bout I make a fire, and you pour us something to drink?"

"Deal."

I put my rusty girl scout skills to work and have the fire going by the time Lachlan returns with two glasses of amber liquid.

"Impressive." He nods toward the fire.

"To my barely adequate fire-making skills." I raise my glass, and we clink them together, our gazes locked as we take a sip. "Oh my God," I groan, "this is amazing."

His chin drops, his eyes darkening. He clears his throat. "It's a family recipe. My grandfather taught me how to make an Old Fashioned. It's been my go-to drink ever since."

"I can see why." I take another sip, the slow burn lighting me up like a live wire. Lachlan drops into a chair, crossing his ankle over his knee, his shoulders relaxed. He looks elegant despite wearing a t-shirt and shorts. "You don't look like you work on a farm," I observe, sitting on the sofa, folding my legs under me.

He laughs, his eyes softening. "You're right. I oversee the financial side." He takes a sip of his drink, catching a drop from the side of the glass with his tongue. I inhale sharply as his gaze locks with mine. "Don't look at me like that, Charlie."

"Like what?" I ask, trying to keep my breathing even.

"Like that," he growls, setting his glass on a coaster.

I drop my gaze, but it lands squarely on his crotch.

Fuck.

I close my eyes, but all I see is his hard length straining against his zipper. I plunk the glass down and stand, walking to the window. The lights flick off, then strong arms wrap around my waist. His chest to my back, the smell of citrus and wood enveloping me. I'm about to question the lights, but my eyes start to adjust, and I see the waves crashing far below, moonlight reflecting off the water. My heartbeat is a steady anthem in my ears. I relax my muscles and drop my head back, resting it against his shoulder.

"You smell so good," he murmurs, his lips pressed to my hair. He sweeps it off my neck, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin below my ear. He pulls back slightly, nuzzling my hair. He presses a kiss on my head. "I'm going to say goodnight, Charlie. I want to stay, but the second I touched you my willpower went out the window. If this is going somewhere, I don't want to get there fast. I want to enjoy it." He turns me around, nudging my chin up. "Is that okay?"

"Yes," I whisper, pretty sure that was one of the hottest things anyone had ever said to me. He studies me for a second, making sure I understand, then brushes his lips over mine, his touch light and fast. He takes a step back, his hands dropping away from me slowly.

He grabs his jacket and pauses at the front door. "Goodnight, Charlie."

"Goodnight, Lach," I manage. The second he closes the door, I strip and step into a freezing cold shower. But even that doesn't wipe the huge grin off my face.

14

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