* * *
It’s after midnight, and over the course of one evening, Charlie and I have eaten dinner, talked, and engaged in depravity practically everywhere in his house.
And that doesn’t even include all the making out.
I flush, cringing a little at how ridiculous we are.
It’s as if we can’t stop. It overcomes us. What starts with a brush of our lips ends with panting and grinding while we devour each other.
At some point, we’d made it to bed and had even fallen asleep.
But I’d woken up to his hard cock pressed against my bare ass, and the next thing I knew, I was holding on to his bed frame while he fucked me from behind. After, when I lay spent in an exhausted heap, my stomach growled from too much calorie expenditure.
He laughed and told me he had just the thing.
So he slipped into a pair of thin, loose cotton lounge pants, and I slipped into one of his white button-downs. We came downstairs, where he put me in his cozy library and wandered off to the kitchen.
I study the contents that line the shelves while sitting in the leather club chair. There’s a smattering of best sellers and literary novels, but he seems to prefer nonfiction. The topics are broad and sweeping in scope. He’s got his fair share of guy stuff like history and the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, but he also has science and philosophy, as well as books on justice reform and the full spectrum of societal issues.
He walks through the double glass doors, carrying an oversized bowl.
I experience a burst of pleasure at the sight of him. “You’re an intellectual.”
“I think that’s generous.” He puts the bowl on the small game table before moving to the matching chair across from me.
I gesture to the bookshelf. “You’ve actually read The Second Sex?”
He chuckles. “I have.”
I look down to find a hot fudge sundae in the center of the table.
To my horror, my eyes well up. I blink rapidly, resisting the urge to turn into a complete emotional wreck.
I glance up to find him watching me, but when I go to speak, nothing comes out. All my words are stalled behind the lump in my throat.
He holds out a spoon. “I seem to remember sometime around three in the morning you describing in elaborate and pornographic detail the illegal acts you’d commit for a sundae, so I also came prepared.”
I stare down at the sweet treat, unable to comprehend he’d remembered. It’s huge, piled high with hot fudge, vanilla ice cream, peanuts, whipped cream, and extra cherries. I clear the tightness from my voice. “Did you use my hot fudge delivery system?”
His lips tilt. “You were adamant about the proper technique.”
This unnerves me. It’s so thoughtful and attentive. It makes me feel impossibly soft toward him. Taking the spoon, I swallow down the emotions clogging my throat. “I…” I trail off and start again. “I can’t believe you did this.”
He leans back in his chair. “I paid attention.”
“I revealed more than I thought.”
His dark eyes are intent on me. “Maybe we didn’t share the details of our lives, but I still learned a lot about you.”
I dip my spoon into the creamy concoction, making sure to gather all the elements. “True. Although I’m irritated I didn’t make you as a cop.”
“Since your typical cop is an asshole, I am going to take that as a compliment.”
“It is.” I glance at the bookshelves. “Is that why you’re so well-read?”
“I’m well-read because I like to read. I like challenging my thinking. I deal with a lot of different types of people. I want to come from a place of understanding, not as an adversary.”
“I see why you and Ryder have so much in common.”