Page 197 of Charlie

"God, I love your brain." I sit down facing him on the lounger, flinging my arms around his neck. "Please never change," I whisper, inhaling his scent, memorizing this moment.

He buries his face in my hair, holding me tight. "I won't, little witch. I promise."

106

JACK'S POV

Ican't stop staring at her. The way the breeze off the lake makes the silky auburn strands of her hair get stuck in her eyelashes. The way her graceful fingers sweep the waves away from her face and tuck them behind the delicate pink shell of her ear. The way her teeth sink into her bottom lip when she catches me staring. The sparkle in her eyes as she's describing her dream art studio. I glance over at Lach, trying to hold back a smile as he asks her more questions so we can give her exactly what she wants.

He and Cam share a lounger, fingers intertwined, Lach's chin resting on Cam's dark curls. When I see them together and the glow of happiness surrounding them, I feel a profound sense of contentment, like everything is finally right with the world. I turn my gaze inward, trying to puzzle out my emotions surrounding Lach. He's the only man I've ever been attracted to, and I don't think that will ever change. I've been sheltering that piece of myself for years, thinking it would shrivel with time, but our friendship only nurtured it and made it stronger.

This desire to dissect and label our relationship comes from societal pressure. I've always bucked the system and don't plan to stop now. We can see where things go with no end destination in mind. We've been friends through situations a lot more difficult to navigate than this, though admittedly, this is uncharted territory, and I'm determined to become an expert corporeal cartographer.

The alarm on my phone goes off, and Charlie jumps up, taking my hand and pulling me into the kitchen.

"What do we do now?" she asks, bringing the bread dough to the island. I position her between my body and the counter, slinging flour over the granite before turning out the dough.

"We need to knead the dough a few times and then shape it," I say, hooking my thumbs into the sides of her underwear. "Sprinkle some flour over the top and smooth it over the surface, I instruct," pressing my lips to her hair as she follows my instructions. "Now, give it a little tap." I bite my lip, waiting to see what she does.

"Good dough," she says, mimicking my brogue. She slaps it and promptly dissolves into laughter as we watch it jiggle. "That's strangely satisfying, isn't it?" She looks up at me, the heat in my gaze bringing out the color in her cheeks.

"Now we shape it," I rasp, unable to ignore the way her scent wraps around me. I cover her hands with mine, showing her how to roll the dough into shape, bringing in the edges to form a perfectly round loaf. I swallow my groan as I step away from her to line a Dutch oven with parchment paper. "The loaf needs to proof for about twenty minutes before we put it in the oven," I say, placing the pot on the opposite side of the stove as the stew for some residual heat. I turn back toward her, catching her checking out my ass, except now her gaze is on my very erect cock. She licks her lips, pupils dilating.

"And what do we do while we wait?" Her voice is husky, practically dripping with desire.

I wipe the counter off and wash my hands, the heat of her gaze roaring over my skin like wildfire. "We test my theory about the counters being the perfect height." I spread a clean hand towel on the counter and lift her up, her legs wrapping around me and pulling me close. Her face feels so delicate and soft under my hands as I draw her mouth to mine, nibbling on her lower lip. She groans, sweeping her tongue over my lips before pushing into my mouth, taking what she needs. I fit my hips between her thighs, rocking against her. The sound of her moaning my name nearly ends me.

"Jack," she pants, pulling back. "I need you in me. Now."

She doesn't need to tell me twice. I slide her panties down her legs, pushing her thighs wide so I can see how wet she is for me. Fuck. I palm my cock, dragging the tip along her slit, pulsing at her clit. She gasps, her tits swaying with each trembling breath. I push her shirt up with my free hand, palming her, tracing her areola with my thumb before flicking it over her nipple. Her reaction has my balls drawing up, my core clenching with need. Foreheads pressed together, air mingling, we watch as I notch myself at her entrance. I stay like that for a few seconds, the anticipation of her wet heat clenching around me almost too much to handle.

"God, Jack. Please," Charlie groans, the desperation in her voice like gasoline on a fire.

"I'm no god, Charlie."

"It sure as fuck feels like it when you're in me." My moan drowns out her words as I slam into her, her pussy squeezing around me, transporting me to another dimension.

"You feel so goddamn good." I seat myself to the hilt, slide my hand around her neck, pull her mouth to mine, our tongues lashing out in a battle of wills. Two more thrusts and we're riding on the edge of life and death. My balls throb painfully as I pull out and drop my head against her shoulder, breathing hard. "Not yet, mo chridhe. Not yet."

Dinner turned out perfectly. Eating it around a bonfire with my favorite people made it even better.

"Who wants to play a game?" Lach asks once we're finished, flames reflecting off his features as he looks around the fire at us.

"What kind of game?" I ask, suspicious of the smirk twisting those full lips.

"One that will take our minds off tomorrow."

"I'm game," Charlie says, grinning, sitting forward in her seat. You would never know by looking at her that tomorrow is one of the most important days of her life.

"I'm in," Cam seconds, a spark in his eyes.

"Fine," I say, raising my eyebrow as I wait for him to explain the game.

"I have four sticks in my hand. Three long, one short. Whoever draws the short stick gets to tell the rest of us what to do for the rest of the night."

"Yes!" Charlie jumps up, eager to be the first to try her chances. She pulls a stick from his closed fist and quickly realizes she has no idea if it's long or short.

"Come on, somebody else go!" She bounces on the balls of her feet, adrenaline clearly kicking in. I reach over and pull a stick from Lach's hand. It's the same length as Charlie's. Nerves batter my stomach, anticipation snatching the breath from my lungs.

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