Page 24

TWENTY-FOUR

LUCAS

I get through about five hours.

Though I don’t crash her date. Despite the way every bone in my body screams at me to interrupt them at dinner, I stick to Blake’s plan. I have a drink, stay at the sponsor party until it’s socially acceptable to leave, head back to the hotel, go through my nighttime routine, set my alarm, and get into bed.

Then I toss and turn, knowing damn well it’ll be impossible to get any sleep if I don’t talk to Charlotte tonight.

With the gift I had Natalie pick up for her in hand, I make my way to her hotel room. It’s only two doors down from mine, but every step feels like a mile. She’s a night owl, so I can almost guarantee she’s up. Even so, it feels weird knocking on her door this late. Especially if Cooper’s there. Our conversation’s going to happen either way, but it’ll be way less awkward if he’s not.

I’ve knocked four or five times before Charlotte finally opens the door, a toothbrush dangling out the side of her mouth. I don’t give myself more than the space of a couple of heartbeats to appreciate her shirt—it reads MILF with man, I love frogs written in a smaller font beneath it, surrounded by images of frogs—before skirting around her and into the room without waiting for an invitation.

“Uh, hi,” she says through a mouthful of toothpaste. “Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly.” Swallowing thickly, I hold the gift out to her. Despite knowing what’s inside, the weight of it still shocks me, especially given the pink-striped wrapping paper and ridiculously floppy bow on top. That’s what I get for having Nat wrap it; I can tie a bow tie like a pro, but I can’t wrap presents for shit, much to my mother’s chagrin.

She holds up a finger and shuffles back into the bathroom. When she returns, sans toothbrush, she asks, “What is it?” With her brow furrowed, she studies the box, looking more confused than curious. “Did someone drop it off at your door? Was there a creepy note? Oh my God, is it blackmail?”

With a hand cupped over my mouth, I muffle a sigh. I should’ve known this wouldn’t go as simply as I’d hoped. “No, Roo. I got you a gift.”

She scrunches her nose and turns her scrutiny on me. “Oh. Why?”

“Because I want you to have it.”

“Right,” she says slowly, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “I got that part. I’m confused as to why you’re giving it to me at midnight and why you’re acting weird about it.”

Rather than explain, I simply say, “I knew you’d be up.” Placing the deceivingly heavy gift on the nearby coffee table, I add, “And race days are always busy, so I wanted to make sure you got it sooner rather than later.”

She snorts. “That smells like bullshit.”

Okay, breathe. You can do this . I push any and all thoughts of Theo out of my mind and focus on Charlotte. The woman who ignites a spark within me that I never knew was possible. She’s the calm before the storm and the storm itself—lightning, thunder, and rain all at once. She’s all or nothing, and I want every single piece of her.

“You went out with Cooper, and he’s not right for you,” I say, my focus never leaving her face, despite the way trepidation rolls through me. “I am. He doesn’t think about your laugh twenty-four seven or replay it in his mind like it’s his favorite song the way I do.” Throat thick, I swallow my nerves and keep going. “He doesn’t appreciate your random questions and out-of-pocket comments like I do. He doesn’t obsess over your every word and smile like I do.”

Charlotte’s jaw drops and her arms fall to her side. “You’re kidding me, right?” she huffs. “You don’t get to come in here and say all that shit simply because you’re jealous. You made it clear that you’re not interested in more than friendship with me.”

If she thinks her sassy reply will make me apologize, will make me do anything but double down, then she’s in for a big surprise. Hands fisted at my sides, I stalk toward her like a lion pursuing prey. “You think I’m not interested in you?”

She throws her arms up and practically growls. “Yes. Of course that’s what I think. The message was loud and clear when you said, ‘Oh, shit. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did. Let’s pretend it never happened. You’re Theo’s sister.’ I may not have graduated with honors, but I’m not a complete idiot, Lucas.”

“That was me thinking I was doing the right thing,” I correct her. “It was me putting my friend’s feelings before my own, despite how much I like you.”

“Right. You know what I like?” she asks, cocking her hip. “Chocolate chip cookies. Doesn’t mean I’m romantically interested in them, though.”

Closing the distance between us, heart pounding against my sternum, I ask, “Do you want me to spell it out for you? Tattoo it on my chest? I like you, Charlotte Grace Walker. I like you so damn much that somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you. And even if you don’t want to be mine, I’ll always be yours.”

Her lips form a tiny, cute O. “Is that why you went to the British Tea Museum with me even though you hate museums?”

That’s the last thing I expected her to ask.

“I wouldn’t go there for just anyone, Roo,” I admit with a helpless shrug. This may be the only time I’ve ever appreciated Grayson opening his big, fat trap. “Only you.”

She nods thoughtfully, biting her lower lip in a way that has me clenching my fists at my sides. Slowly, she meets my eye, her expression not quite hiding her hurt. “Nothing’s changed Lucas. You may say you don’t care, but I’m still Theo’s sister.”

Taking half a step closer, I tuck her hair behind her ears. She shudders when my fingertips brush against her cheek, and I let my hands frame her face, her skin smooth and soft like silk.

“No, you’re not.”

She rolls her eyes. “Um, yes I am. DNA doesn’t lie.”

I shake my head, a grin of sincere affection and appreciation on my lips. “Not to me, you aren’t. You’re just Charlotte. You’re a woman who’s passionate and strong but not afraid to be vulnerable. You’re coffee and chaos; curiosity and confidence personified. You see the world like no one else I’ve ever met. I’m constantly in awe of you, Roo. I want to laugh with you and learn from you and just stare at you because you’re so fucking gorgeous.” Chest aching, I dip a little closer, ensuring she can hear the sincerity in my words. “And I don’t care what your brother, my brother, or anyone’s fucking brother has to say about it?—”

Warm, soft lips press against mine with hesitant urgency. The suddenness shocks me still for a moment. But soon enough, I’m threading my ringed fingers into Charlotte’s curls, pressing my body against hers. Kissing her again sends a wave of relief through me. Like I was drowning and can finally breathe again. I want more, more, more of her. She tastes like minty toothpaste, and the faint smell of her lilac-scented shampoo intoxicates me more than any alcoholic beverage I drank earlier. After a moment, she pulls back slightly and murmurs something I don’t quite catch.

“Hmm?” I ask, resting my forehead against hers.

“He’s scared of needles.”

Blinking, I zero in on her face. Now I’m paying attention. “What?”

“Cooper,” she clarifies. “We were talking about my pump. His brother’s diabetic, and Cooper said he doesn’t know how we do it since he’s terrified of needles. That’s how I know he doesn’t have a piercing down there.”

Relief floods my system, though I do my best to school my expression.

“And after dinner, I told him I thought we were better off as friends. It wasn’t fair of me to pretend otherwise when I…”

I tighten my grip on her hair, tugging her head back slightly so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. “When you what?”

Her lips part slightly, and her throat constricts, her muscles working in a smooth, coordinated effort as she swallows nervously. It’s such an ordinary action, yet in this moment, it’s significant, almost intimate. Because whatever she says next has the power to determine our future.

“Still wished it was you,” she says, her voice unusually soft. “It’s always been you.”

My heart thumps wildly, and there’s no hiding my grin. Not that I have any intention of trying. “Anything else you want to share? Or can I kiss you again? And fair warning, once I start, it’ll be a challenge to stop.”

Her eyes glisten with mirth as she giggles. “Kiss me.”

I’m quick to bury my face in her neck, leaving a trail of soft, gentle kisses beneath her ear, before making my way up her jaw until, finally, my lips connect with hers. There’s no hesitancy in the way her mouth moves against mine this time, and I grunt in satisfaction as she explores with her tongue.

When she tugs the material of my shirt, I shackle her wrists above her head. “I’m not done kissing you yet.”

If it were up to me, I’d never be done. But when she grinds her hips against mine in a desperate attempt for relief, I release her hands. My patience is waning, and there’s a high likelihood my cock is going to burst through the thin material of my sweatpants.

Wasting no time, Charlotte slips her now-free hand beneath my waistband and into my briefs, pulling a deep groan from me. She pulls back and tucks her chin, glancing down as she gives my cock a good squeeze, her thumb quickly swiping over the tip, feeling how fucking desperate I am for her.

“Bed,” I croak out between moans.

She ignores me. Instead, she grips my jaw and kisses me, slipping her tongue past my lips and swirling it against mine. Fuck. While I’d take her against this wall in a heartbeat, my desire to taste her is too strong, and for that I need her sprawled, naked, in bed. Gripping her hips, I back her toward the queen-size bed, never breaking our kiss. When the backs of her legs make contact with the bedframe, I gently push her shoulders, and she flops back onto the mattress like a rag doll.

“Naked,” I demand. “Now.”

I lift my shirt over my head and slip out of my sweats and briefs in record time. When I focus on her again, I find her clothed, resting back on her elbows and watching me with heavy-lidded eyes. Heat licks up my spine at the way she unabashedly appraises my body.

Then she shocks the hell out of me by saying, “You don’t have a dick tattoo.”

Breath catching, I rear back. “What the fuck? ”

“Never mind,” she says, shaking her head. “We can pillow talk about that later.”

She straightens, and when she peels off her MILF shirt, my knees buckle, and all thoughts of a dick tattoo disappear as her bare breasts come into view. They’re full, pink-tipped, and begging to be worshipped. I drink her in like a man dying from thirst as she tweaks her nipples, causing the weight of her breasts to quiver at the motion.

Leisurely, I stroke myself, watching her. She’s got her focus fixed on me, too, as she slips off her cherry-patterned panties.

How fucking lucky am I?

Her thighs slowly part, and I groan at the sight of her glistening pussy. Like a man possessed, I lunge for the bed, dropping to my knees before it and dragging her hips to the edge.

I position her thighs on either side of my head, making myself comfortable and ignoring her audible concern that I’m going to suffocate.

“ Fuck ,” she cries out as I lick her with the broad of my tongue once, twice, three times. I take my time exploring her, savoring her taste, listening to the sweet little sounds she makes as I read her body’s cues. I devour her like she’s my last meal, my tongue circling her clit in a pattern that has her gripping my hair so harshly I’ll end up bald. Probably within a year, given how much time I plan to spend between her legs.

With an arm draped over her waist, I lock her in place and push myself nose-deep into her pussy, unrelenting as I swirl and flick the tip of my tongue against her. The motion earns me a groan that radiates through her body and mine.

Pulling back a fraction, I tell her, “I’m going to blow my load before I’m inside you if you make that noise again.”

“Sorry,” she chokes out, not sounding one bit apologetic. “Feels too good. Get back to work, please.”

I chuckle, then obey, reattaching my lips to her core and slipping two fingers inside her. The motion is slow. I want to remember every sensation. Then I curl them until her groans sound like a chorus. She comes fast and hard, the sound so sexy I want to bottle it up like a cologne. But I don’t stop my ministrations until she’s pressing her knees together, forcing me to stop.

I pull back with a noisy kiss on her clit, and as I take in her blissed-out state, my chest expands with satisfaction. Her chest and neck are flushed, and she’s panting as she comes down from her high. She crooks her finger at me, licking her lips while looking at my tattoo-less dick like it’s the answer to all of life’s questions. Leaning back on my haunches, I snag my pants and dig out my wallet.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte asks, her lower lip pushing into a pout. “It’s your turn.”

“It’s cute that you think I’d last more than thirty seconds in your mouth,” I say with a snort. It’ll be a miracle if I can last more than five minutes inside her. There’s no way I’ll pull the trigger early, no matter how badly I’m dying to have her perfectly pouty lips wrapped around me.

“I could suck at blowjobs, you know,” she teases. “No pun intended.”

As I stand, I rip open the wrapper, and with my focus locked on her naked form, I slide the condom down my length. I crawl on top of her, resting my elbows on either side of her head, and gently rock my cock over her clit. She shivers at the sensation, and I revel in the power I have to make her feel so damn good. Her hair is loose and falling in a halo around her head, tangled and tousled from writhing as I brought her to orgasm. I brush my thumb against her lip, and when she nips the end of it, I can’t help but groan.

Fuck, I want this forever.

“No more teasing,” she says, eyes wide with need. “Please.”

“Not trying to tease you, baby. I’m just taking my time.”

I lower my lips to hers, kissing her deeply and lovingly, and move one hand beneath her lower back. Pushing her hips up, I ease myself inside her, thrusting until she’s filled to the hilt. Fuck. I know right then and there I could spend all day inside her, fucking her until the sweet sounds that slip through her lips are more familiar to me than the roar of my car’s engine.

“You okay, baby?” I murmur against her lips. Charlotte’s tight, and while my dick isn’t an anaconda, it’s definitely bigger than average.

“Never better,” she whimpers, wriggling beneath me. She clenches her pussy around me to accentuate her point.

With a throaty growl of approval, I rock inside her, then slowly rotate my hips until she’s arching her back to take me deeper. Dipping my head, I lave her nipples until the sensitive skin around them pinkens from the stubble on my face.

“Perfect tits. Perfect pussy.” I nip at the skin where her neck meets her shoulder. “So fucking perfect, aren’t you?”

Nodding, she kisses me tenderly. “Perfect for you.”

Stopping all movement, I look down at her, drink her in, soak in this tender moment. Then, with a soft kiss to her brow, I push up onto my knees, my cock slipping out momentarily as I reposition myself. Charlotte looks like a fucking Renaissance painting, lying on the stark white sheet in front of me, legs splayed, chest heaving wildly. I slip a pillow under her hips, then I slide back inside her. The changed angle instantly wipes her vocabulary of anything coherent. I thrust into her, increasing the tempo until my mind blanks of everything but her pleasure and she presses her flushed face into the fluffy pillow beneath her head.

I’m addicted to her undivided attention, so, wanting her focus back, I say, “Eyes on me, baby. Need to watch you when you come on my cock.”

She obeys, and as we watch one another, I take in her every minute expression—the way her breath gets caught in her throat and comes out in short, shuddering pants, how her brows crease in pleasure every time my hips surge forward, what makes her cry out with those sinfully sweet moans. When I press my thumb against her clit and her climax overwhelms her, I memorize every detail: the way her back curves and thrusts her pert nipples into the air, how her body shudders with pleasure.

The way she clenches around me has my own release overtaking me in a blinding flash—like lightning bolts hitting my nerves in the most intolerable pleasure. Chest heaving from what was single-handedly the best sex I’ve ever had, I collapse onto my side and pull Charlotte against me, not wanting any space between us. I never want any space between us again.

“Damn,” she mumbles into my chest.

I let out a low chuckle. “Mm-hmm.”

We lie in silence for a moment, the sounds of the city drifting into the room. Despite its tempting draw, I fight the urge to close my eyes and let sleep take me. We have a lot to discuss before the sun rises tomorrow morning.

“Should we get the talk over with?” I ask, running my hand up and down her back.

This has her sitting up, hair wild, and pressing a hand to my chest. “Yes. Thank you for reminding me. Why in the bloody hell is there a rumor that you have a tattoo on your dick?”

A phantom pain slices through my groin, making me cup my deflating cock like a tattoo gun is going to appear out of thin air and attack it. “How am I supposed to know? I didn’t even know there was a rumor. Did you really think I’d have one of those?” A shudder works its way through me. “Do you know how badly that would hurt? God. No. Never.”

Head tilted, she studies the area in question, as if confirming, once again, that my crotch is tattoo-free. It is. She brushes her fingertips over the tattoo on my inner right thigh, causing me to flinch involuntarily. Eyes going wide, she jerks her hand back like she touched a hot stove. Clutching her wrist, I press a quick kiss against her palm.

“Sorry,” I apologize, heat rising in my cheeks. “I’m, ah, ticklish there.”

A bright smile blooms across her face. “That’s adorable.”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, though I squint at her in suspicion. “Feel free to touch all you want, just don’t tickle me. I’m not a fan.”

She pats my knee. “There are lots of things I’d like to do between your thighs, and none of them involve tickling, babe.”

The pet name has my cock twitching. “I like that.”

“What?” she asks, distracted by the Star Wars –inspired tattoo on my upper right thigh. It’s a lightsaber, though rather than a laser sprouting from it, there’s a bouquet. Each flower represents a family member’s birth month. “Me calling you babe?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She traces my tattoos one by one, the sensation so soothing, my eyes flutter shut, and my body melts into the mattress. She takes her time, asking about the meaning behind them, but falters when she finds her own words tattooed onto my skin.

Wearing a look of intrigue and confusion, she zeroes in on my face. Then she taps the words in question. “Why’d you get this one?”

I prop myself onto my elbows and swallow past the lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat. Shit . All I can do is hope she doesn’t get freaked out by my admission. “Because you said it.”

“Wait, what?” she asks, her puzzlement genuine. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember last year at the Melbourne Grand Prix?” I begin. “I was running late to dinner at your mum’s house, but when I finally got there, you had saved me a spot next to you. When I thanked you, that’s how you replied.” I brush my thumb over the ink, heart clenching at the memory. “I was, ah… well, I was feeling pretty lonely, so it meant a lot to me. My best friends were wrapped up in their relationships, and I was actively avoiding seeing my family because of Jesse. Fuck, I was so lost. But you said that, and it made me feel like I mattered, like I was seen. I got it tattooed a week later.”

Charlotte opens her mouth, squeaks, and closes it again. Then she launches herself at me, covering my body with hers and burying her face in my neck. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” I say, chest tightening.

“Yes.” She lifts her head so we’re eye to eye. “And while I 100 percent meant what I said about saving you a seat at any table, I do feel the need to tell you that Taylor Swift said it first. I was just quoting her. It’s from her song ‘Lover.’ It’s actually really cute in retrospect, since, you know, you’re now my lover.”

“You’re telling me I have a Taylor Swift lyric permanently inked on my body?”

“Um, yes,” she says, cringing a little. “But it’s really, really romantic that you’d mark yourself with the words I said to you. And technically, I did say it. I just didn’t think it first. Are you mad?”

I let out a loud, booming laugh, making the bed shake. Fucking Taylor Swift. “No, I’m not mad. I’d prefer to have your original words, but I don’t regret it. It’s a part of our story now, even if it has a bit of a twist.”

Angling closer, she kisses my jaw, then my lips. “I do have an idea for a tattoo, though.”

“Yeah?” I ask, brows arched. “What is it?”

She peeks up at me through her long lashes. “I love you.”

My hands still, and warmth blooms in my chest. “Is that an original phrase or another Taylor Swift lyric?”

“That one’s all me,” she confirms, rubbing her nose against mine .

“Say it again,” I demand, tightening my hold on her.

She snuggles against me like a cat, purring with contentment. Draped over me, she feels like a weighted blanket, providing me a sense of calm. “I love you,” she repeats. “And for the record, if you ever were to get a tattoo on your dick, it better be my name.”

My head sinks into the pillow as I laugh. Blake was right. I’d much rather die happy and in love than live not knowing what this feels like.