Page 106 of Charlie

"How about that champagne," I rasp, desperate to numb the steady ache that’s becoming impossible to ignore.

Lach leads me to a cozy seating area with a view of the setting sun and motions to someone behind us.

"Normally, I wouldn't have someone serving us, but I'm not too keen on leaving you here on your own at the moment."

"Why?"

"Because the second I'm not watching you, you're going to get the idea in your head that you can just get there without me knowing."

"I highly doubt—," I clamp my mouth closed to keep in a moan as I sit down and the vibe pushes into my g-spot and clit at the same tie. "Fuck," I whimper, holding myself perfectly still.

"All you have to do is rock back and forth a couple of times," he taunts, his gaze glued between my legs. He palms my thigh and pushes me back a fraction of an inch.

Pleasure courses through me, my eyes rolling back before I can wrestle myself back under control. Get it together, Charlie.

"Your champagne, Miss."

I open my eyes to a friendly smile and reach up to take the glass from him, gulping it down. His smile drops as he watches me, his gaze flying to Lach. "Is she okay?"

He bites his cheek to keep from smiling, but I can see the corners of his mouth twitch as he ensures him I'm fine, just a bit parched.

"Sit up straight, Charlie," he says after the man sets the bottle down and leaves, "It'll help even out the pressure. Better?" he asks, watching me like a hawk as I change positions.

"Barely," I mutter, pouring myself another glass of champagne.

"We can go back down to the room?—"

"No!" I cut him off. "I'm going to win this bet if it kills me."

He chuckles, twisting the stem of his glass between his fingers, "Death by not cumming – is that even possible?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the remote. "Why don't we find out?"

58

"Do you want to change before dinner?" Lach asks, noticing the goosebumps racing over my body as the breeze from the open door caresses my skin. My shoulders shake as a shiver takes hold of my body.

"Yes, but I didn't think we'd be leaving the boat. I didn't bring anything appropriate for dinner."

"It's a pub, Charlie. You don't need to dress up. Although, this does give me an excuse to give you the present I brought you."

My heart jumps to my throat. "You got me a present?"

"Don't get too excited," he chuckles. He opens the closet, pulls out a box wrapped in newspaper, and hands it to me. I carefully pick at the tape, scanning over the article headings and pictures on the paper. I freeze, tilting the box so the paper is right-side up. It's filled with photos of the four of us, some of me alone, or me with one or all of the guys. I scan the words, realizing the ‘articles’ are all poems and song lyrics.

"Did you do this?" I ask, blinking back tears.

"I hope you like it because I'll be wrapping everything in that for at least the next twenty-five years."

I drop the box on the bed and throw my arms around his neck. "I love it," I whisper in his ear. "Thank you for such a thoughtful gift."

"You haven't even opened it yet," he laughs.

"I promise the paper is better than what’s inside."

He chuckles, handing me the box again, and I carefully peel off the paper, saving it to frame when we get home. I lift the lid to find a dusty blue colored sweat suit, soft and silky beneath my fingertips.

"This is gorgeous," I murmur, pulling it out, and admiring the tailoring. It looks expensive and comfy as hell.

"It reminded me of the color of your eyes, and I know how much you like comfortable clothes..." he trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

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