Page 12 of Bump and Run

I stared in wonder. The two-bedroom trailer I had lived in my entire life would fit inside Charlie’s home. Heck, you could fit in a dozen of them.

“This is your house?”

It was sprawling across the land. I bet he had a pool. I bet he had a butler, a cook, and someone to wash his clothes. Multiple bathrooms. Forget a two-car garage; he probably had six.

“Well, not my house, my father’s. I’m just visiting. It’s a bit much. Back home where I live is much smaller than this.” He tugged me up the steps. “Really, Jonesy, it’s not a big deal.”

“What’s going to happen when you go home?” I blurted.

His eyes grew wide. Whoops.

Charlie tilted his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Uh, I mean, when you leave here. Will we still continue to talk, or is this like a summer fling for you?” I reached up to grip the back of my neck as my stomach clenched.

His brows dipped. “Do you want to still date me when I go home?”

Wait a second.“We’re dating?”

“Are we not? I mean, I don’t make a habit of kissing just anyone.” Charlie moved and wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest. “Or give them hand jobs on the beach. Take them out for the day. Buy them things. I usually only do that when I’m dating someone.”

I could see the moon shining in his eyes. “Do you do that often? Date people, I mean?”

“No, Jonesy, I don’t,” he whispered.

Fudge, fudge, fudge. I wanted him to love me, too. I wanted to give this man all my firsts. He already had taken my first kiss. Being touched over my boxers by someone else. I might as well give him everything else, too.

“Charlie,” I murmured his name just as he dipped his head and sealed his mouth to mine.

He always tasted like every single one of my fantasies. Warm, soft lips mixed with something sweet. Did he wear ChapStick or something? Was he just really prepared for kissing? His hard chest pressed against mine as I clung to him for support. Charlie’s tongue probed the seam of my lips before I opened them, giving him access to everything and anything he wanted.

He pulled back to smile at me, his brown eyes glittering with something I couldn’t read.

“Let’s go, Jonesy.”

He started back up the steps with me right behind him. He led me onto a deck, right by the pool, by the ocean, and into the kitchen, where he pushed me against the counter to kiss me again.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“I—”

“Tell me that you know you’re gorgeous.” Charlie growled as his hands tugged at my hair, his hard dick pressed against me. “You’re so damn perfect.”

It was hard to hear those words after being teased my entire life growing up. Kids said I was too pretty for a boy. That my hair was too curly or that my lips were too big, or my teeth were too crooked. Mama barely scraped by to get me braces when I was fourteen, and even then, I think she borrowed it from someone. I never believed I was anything anyone wanted, and now this man was telling me I was the exact opposite.

“I can’t.”

“What? Why the fuck not?” Charlie cupped my head. “Hey, what’s this?” He caught a tear that had fallen on his thumb. “Jonesy, if this is too much, we can just chill. Watch a movie or whatever you want.”

I buried my face in his neck. “I’ve never had anyone tell me I’m beautiful or gorgeous before.” His arms wrapped around me. “It’s a lot.”

“Kids teased you.” His fingers traced letters and designs onto my back as he held me. “Kids can be mean.”

I sniffed. “Kids can be really terrible.”Didn’t I know it.

“Yeah, they can.” Charlie laughed softly. “Not me, Jonesy, I promise. I mean it, though. When I say you’re pretty. But if you don’t want me to say those things to you or if it bothers you, just tell me. I’ll stop.”

I hummed softly. “Don’t stop. I like it.”