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16

NOAH

Blowing the whistle, I suppress my annoyance of having to coach Jonathan and his offensive line. It’s Friday, and I survived the entire week barely seeing him. Happy birthday to me. They’re scrimmaging against CBU, but when I walked to practice, I promised not to favor my alma mater, to ignore the names on the backs of the jerseys and approach it from an analytical perspective.

Jonathan pushes himself off the ground, given a CBU linebacker just blitzed him. Atta boy. He rips off his helmet and staggers towards the sidelines with the rest of the Andrews University offensive line. They’re actually not half bad, but it seems Jonathan’s as distracted by my presence as I am by his.

The players surround me, all awaiting my instruction as I grip a playbook in my hand.

“Your formation is good,” I tell them. “But your pass completion rate needs work.” Jonathan huffs out a sarcastic breath. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I tell him, and his face reddens. “In case you forgot, quarterback isn’t the only position on the field. This is a team game.”

“Wow, what a revelation,” he says, and I bite my tongue.

Keep it professional.

I may be annoyed at this guy, but his team still deserves my attention and guidance.

“My point is, it doesn’t matter how good the quarterback is if the rest of the team isn’t in sync. A sloppy offensive line means you’re leaving holes open—not protecting your man.”

“Or maybe the man is too slow today,” one of the guys calls out.

“Even if that’s true…” I say, looking at the lineman. And it is. Jonathan’s taken about three seconds too long for every play. “It’s your job to afford him that time to make a pass or find a route.” I turn my attention to the running backs. “It’s your job to shake the defenders and get open.” I speak to the team as a whole. “If there’s not an open route, or an open man, it doesn’t matter if you’ve got a D1 quarterback in a peewee football league. He can only do so much. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” they call out.

“Good!” I say, waving my arms. “You’re in field goal range, but I want a touchdown. So get back on the field and show me what you’ve got.”

Helmets are pulled on, mouth guards in place, chin straps hooked, and they’re jogging back out to the thirty-yard line. The defenders get in place, offensive line sets up, and I walk the edge of the field, watching them.

Jonathan shouts, “Hike!”

Center sends him the ball, and Jonathan shuffles backwards. The guards are holding position, a wide receiver bolting down field, a cornerback quick on his heels.

“Throw!” I shout, hoping Jonathan hears me.

He cocks his arm. The ball soars through the air, lands perfectly in the receiver’s arms, and he sprints it into the end zone.

Touchdown.

The Andrews U boys run and high five. A few players dance near the field goal post, and Jonathan holds his head high, walking towards the sideline.

“Thank you!” I shout. “Finally!”

Another twenty minutes of improving their offensive line, and we get to break for lunch. I shove the clipboard in my backpack on the metal bench. My eyes scan for Charlotte, but the cheerleaders had weight training this morning so she must still be at the gym.

“What the hell, Cap?” Theo says, gripping my shoulders and shaking me. “Heard you made our boys look like fools.”

“Well, if they can’t tighten up, that’s not on me,” I say with a smirk.

“We’ll give you a pass since it’s your birthday,” Elijah says, joining us.

I throw my backpack over one shoulder and rotate the hat I was wearing backwards. “How kind of you.”

“Happy birthday to you!” they sing in unison, Elijah throwing an arm over my shoulder.

“Oh my god, stop,” I beg.

“Happy birthday to you!” they screech, others around us joining in as we walk toward the cafeteria. “Happy birthday to Noahhhhhh. Happy birthday to you.”

“Thanks, guys,” I say, nudging Elijah off me. “I gotta head back to my cabin and drop my bag off. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria?”

“Yeah, right,” Theo says. “You’re probably headed for some birthday sex.”

“Dude.” I glare at him.

“Later,” he says, with a brow waggle.

When I enter the cabin, my phone buzzes. I shut the door and pull it out.

Tri County Correctional Institute.

Rolling my eyes, I ignore the call, shoving the phone back into my pocket.

Every year he tries, and every year I ignore him, hoping it’ll be the last time.

Why won’t he leave me the fuck alone?

Does he really think I want to talk to him?

It’s been eight years, and every single time, the phone rings, my muscles seize up, and I’m fourteen years old, the cold metal in my hand.

I fight the urge to spiral, tossing my backpack on the bed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Blowing out a breath, I walk over to the door and throw it open. The weight on my chest is instantly lifted at the sight of Charlotte with a full-toothed smile, holding a hand behind her back.

“Close your eyes,” she says, and I eagerly oblige. “Hold out your hands.” I do as instructed, and after a minute of shuffling sounds, a small object is placed in my palms. “Okay, you can look.”

My eyes pop open to the sight of a plastic container hosting one of my favorite desserts, albeit store-bought, and a lit candle sticking out the top.

“Make a wish,” she tells me.

Without a second thought, I blow out the flame.

“It kills me I couldn’t bake you a cake from scratch, but I tried to at least find something I know you like,” she says, shifting in place. “And you’ve mentioned a few times how good your mom’s tiramisù is. I’m sure this doesn’t even come close to live up but?—”

“It’s perfect,” I say, my heart squeezing at the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you.”

“Ready for lunch?” Charlotte asks, and I close the plastic lid to protect my little treat.

“Starving,” I say, reaching out my hand, and she looks down at it, smile deepening as she takes it.

We stroll down the path, and she says, “Heard you had to coach for Andrews’ o-line today?”

“Yep.” I huff a breath.

“How was it?”

“Fine.” Annoying. “Just treated them like any other team.”

“What?” she shrieks, and I flinch, eyes snapping to hers. “I was hoping you had them run the bleachers till they puked or made sure Jonathan got his shit rocked.”

I chuckle. “As appealing as all that sounds, I was trying to be professional.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “Can you professionally rock his shit?”

I release my hold on her hand and put my free arm around her shoulder, tiramisù still securely in the other. “Well, you’ll have to complain to CBU’s defense about that.” I place a kiss in her hair, and she grips my waist. “But sure. Next time I’ll say, ‘Fuck professionalism,’ and make him do burpees till he blacks out.”

“Is that really too much for a fake girlfriend to ask for?” she says, smiling up at me, her pretty lips inches away. It would be so easy to lean down, claiming them. I wonder how she tastes. The feel of her tongue on mine. What kind of noises she’d make.

“Hey, Caruso!” I’m yanked out of my fantasy, head turning to find one of the other coaches. “You got a minute?”

I glance back to Charlotte with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says, seemingly unaffected. “You’ve got big grown-up things to attend to.”

“See you at the bonfire later?” I ask.

“It’s a date,” she says, and I fight a smile. “I just meant?—”

I bend down, brushing my lips against her ear. “It’s a date .”

* * *

The outside temperature is sweltering, but the bonfire is tradition to end the first completed week of training. So we’re all here, roasting both the marshmallows and ourselves. Coaches, staff, and students alike mingle together, eating barbeque and having a good time.

Others splash in the lake, enjoying the cool water to fight off the humid Florida air.

I wander through the crowd in search of a pretty brunette, finally spotting her a few yards away. My lips curve upward as Charlotte lets loose with Andi and Stella, a happy, carefree smile on her face.

“Noah,” I hear from behind me and spin around. Hannah, the redhead I can’t seem to shake, stands a few yards away. My smile drops, but I quickly recover to avoid looking rude.

“Hey,” I say with a curt nod.

“You haven’t been answering my messages,” she says, a teasing smirk on her face.

“So you showed up to deliver them in person?” I ask, brows furrowing and the word “stalker” on the tip of my tongue.

“Dad’s here scouting for players he might want to draft next year,” she says, twirling a lock of hair. I glance around, and sure as shit, her dad, aka my new boss, is standing a few yards away, talking to one of the other coaches.

I return my attention to her. “Doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“Thought I’d tag along and be an extra set of eyes on the upcoming talent. Any players I should keep my sights on?”

“Not that I can think of,” I say, having no interest in prolonging this conversation.

“Hmm…” She twists her mouth. “I find that hard to believe. Maybe I’ll attend one of your practices and check it out for myself.”

“That seems highly unnecessary.”

“We’ll see about that,” she says, bouncing on her heels. “Well, I gotta run and help Dad with something, but I’ll see you around.”

“Sure.” No, thank you.

“Text me if you ever need a late night”—she glances around with a smirk, then returns her attention to me—“distraction.” She waves with a wink, walking away before I can reply.

Good lord, that woman can’t take a hint.

Turning back around, I find Charlotte in the same place. Her eyes are glued on me, and she quickly looks away. I chuckle under my breath at her attempt at nonchalance and walk to her.

Placing a finger under her chin, I tilt her gaze to meet mine. “Hey, soffione ,” I say, leaning down and kissing her cheek. Pausing, I allow myself one single moment to enjoy the sweet citrus scent of her shampoo, then pull away.

“Hey, birthday boy,” she says, jaw tight.

“Andi.” I nod. “Stella.”

“Noah,” they coo in unison.

“We’re gonna…” Andi points over her shoulder, and before I can say a word, she and Stella have disappeared.

“Wow!” Charlotte laughs. “Now you’re scaring off my friends too. Who knew dating you would be such social suicide?”

“Excuse me?” I scoff, grabbing her hand and tugging her to me. “If anything, I’ve increased your social status.”

Her teasing eyes meet mine. “How do you figure that?”

I cock a brow. “You are dating a first-round NFL draft pick for the Tampa Barracudas.”

“Am I really ?” She places a hand over her chest in mock shock. “Well, aren’t I the luckiest girl in all the land.”

“God, you are just…” I lean down, lips hovering over hers, begging for a taste.

I agreed to kissing for our little arrangement, even knowing what an indisputably idiotic idea it is. But if I avoid it too long, people will start asking questions.

“Was that the redhead from Miami?” Charlotte asks, attempting to maintain apathy and pulling my attention back to her eyes.

I fight a smile. “You remember her?”

“Another ex-fuck buddy, right?”

“Absolutely not. We had one drink.” A drink that you basically forced on me.

Her shoulders relax slightly. “I guess I don’t have the right to care anyways.”

Neither do I, and I still want to knock your ex out every time he looks at you. “Of course you do. We’re dating.”

“ Fake dating,” she corrects, adding to the weight in my stomach every time I remember that technicality.

“Right.” I clear my throat. “Well, for the record , nothing happened between Hannah and me. But she is Coach Bexley’s daughter, so I have to be cordial.”

Her eyes widen. “She’s your boss’s daughter ?”

“Yep.”

“And what, she’s hoping you wanna sleep your way to the top?”

I note the little green monster in her eyes. “I’m more of a bottom type of guy.”

“Noah!” she squeals, slapping me on the chest. “Be serious.”

“ Tesoro ,” I say, leaning down to her ear. “She’s the last woman I’m thinking about in my bed.” Her lips smash shut, and I pull away. “Wanna go sit by the bonfire?”

She laughs nervously. “I mean, it’s already hot as the hinges of hell, but sure, why not.”

I grab her hand, our fingers interlacing, and tug her toward the spot where the CBU boys have taken over. Elijah sits on a bench next to Theo as they laugh like they don’t have a care in the world. But, I suppose, why would they? They’re two of the top dogs on campus. Football captains. No real responsibilities yet. Life must be good.

There’s a free spot next to Elijah, and I sit, patting my leg. Charlotte glances at it, then back to me, and I tug her on my lap before she has a chance to protest.

“Remember,” I whisper in her ear. “You have to pretend you’re not afraid of me.”

She brings her lips to my ear. “I’m not afraid.” Her soft breath fans my skin. PG thoughts, Caruso. She throws an arm around my neck, and I hook mine around her waist, tugging her against me.

The denim shorts she’s wearing give my fingertips direct contact to her smooth skin, and I gently glide my thumb across the top of her leg. Goosebumps appear, pleasing me.

Glancing up, I note Jonathan glaring at us as he takes a seat on the other side of the campfire. Guess he wants a sideline seat to how bad he fumbled.

Charlotte shifts uncomfortably, looking toward me. “Why would he come over here if he’s just gonna stare?”

“Wanna give him something to stare at?” I ask, the need to claim her overwhelming.

“What did you have in mind?” she asks with a cheeky smile.

My heart pounds hard in my chest. “You still okay with the rules we discussed?”

She nods. “I am.”

Gliding my hand in her hair, I tug her to me, our foreheads touching. “Good.”

Don’t think about, don’t touch, and definitely don’t kiss Charlotte.

My eyes fall to her lips. Her pretty, plump pink lips. As if sensing my gaze, she darts her tongue out, wetting them.

Fuck.

A man only has so much willpower.

“Pretend it’s not the first time,” I whisper, more as a reminder for myself, while sliding my hand to her neck. Don’t kiss Charlotte. My thumb grazes her jawbone before swiping over her soft lip. She smiles, eyes fixed on mine like I’m the only man on earth. Like she never wants to look away. The feeling is more than mutual.

“Okay,” she says with an exhale, and I pull her closer, our noses touching.

“Don’t freak out.” Don’t kiss Charlotte.

“I’m not freaking out,” she says, our mouths brushing as she speaks. How is she not freaking out?

“Char—” Her lips crash against mine, and my eyes flutter shut. Cazzo ? 1 . Her hand slides into my hair, gripping it tight. My soul exits my body, zips through the universe at the speed of light, and arrives in one where only we exist. Where Charlotte and I are twin suns, held together by the gravity of our kiss.

I graze my tongue against the seam of her lips, and she entangles hers with mine. She tastes like strawberries and peaches and the sweetest temptation I’ve ever had. Warmth spreads across my chest, as I grip her thigh, desperate to remain in transcendence. She lets out a small whimper, and crackling wood transports me back to Earth. Bonfire. Audience . Fuck. Fighting every cell in my body, I break the kiss.

Her heavy breath hits my swollen, wet lips. Unable to speak, my mouth finds her jaw and I plant a soft kiss before forcing myself to pull away. My dick is hard, and I’m praying by some miracle she doesn’t notice.

“That was…” She huffs a laugh.

“Wow,” I fill in.

She glances across the bonfire, and then her eyes return to mine. “Do you think it was believable?”

Supernova to my heart.

It is for show, after all .

“Yeah.” I smile weakly. “It was believable.”

“I’m gonna grab us a drink,” she says, pushing to stand, and I clutch her firmly to my lap. “What are you doing?” she asks, wiggling in my arms, and I bring my lips to her ear.

“If you get up right now,” I rasp out, “everyone here is going to see the effect of the little show we put on.”

Her brows furrow, then go upward. “I thought that was your phone digging into my ass.”

I drop my face into her neck and shake my head. “My phone’s in the cabin.”

“Oh.”

Shifting in place, I try to readjust to Earth’s gravity. “Yeah.”

“But why?”

“I’m a guy, Char.” I bring my lips to her ear, releasing a shaky breath. “Just because this isn’t real doesn’t mean my cock got the memo. If I kiss a hot girl and she moans into my mouth, things are gonna happen below the belt.”

“I did not moan into your mouth,” she whispers, throwing a hand over her chest.

“Yes.” I swallow hard, the heavenly sound still echoing in my mind. “You did.”

“Sorry.” Even in the low light, I can see the pink creep onto her cheeks. “Guess my vocal cords didn’t get the fake dating memo either.”

I reach under Charlotte to adjust myself. “I think it’s safe for you to leave now.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’ll be fine.” I squeeze her leg. “I’m fine.”

She stands up. “Soda okay?”

I consider the Barracudas “suggested” meal plan and the puke-inducing training regimen that goes along with it. “Just water, thanks.”

“You got it,” she says, heading off towards the drinks table, my eyes trailing her as she goes. Her hips sway, shorts hugging her curves in a way that should be a damn crime. Take me to jail, Officer Benson.

Elijah clears his throat beside me, and I turn to him. Theo grins while nodding his head, then says, “I’m glad you finally gave up your no pussy rule.”

“That wasn’t the rule, and you know it,” I say pointedly. But his words are a reminder of the reasoning behind it. Relationships are messy. Distracting. Dangerous. I toy with the gold band on my necklace.

“I still prefer Elijah’s,” Theo says, nudging him. “More titties…”

Elijah cocks his arm back, throwing an imaginary football that Theo “catches.” “More touchdowns!” Elijah says, and they high-five.

“What are you high-fiving for?” I tease Elijah. “You’ve got the same tits forever.”

“Yeah.” Elijah smirks. “And they’re fucking perfect.”

Theo looks between us, face scrunched up. “You guys disgust me. All pussy-whipped and shit.”

Elijah throws his arm around Theo. “Wrapped up in a pussy is a perfect place to be.”

“Or two, or three,” Theo says.

Jonathan’s forced laughter pulls my attention across the campfire, and his eyes meet mine in a sarcastic grimace.

“Something funny?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says at the same moment Charlotte returns with our drinks, and I immediately regret involving him in our conversation. She hands me a bottle of water, then slides awkwardly into my lap, glancing between us.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“What’s up is your little ‘boyfriend’ here,” Jonathan says, using quotation marks that piss me right off, “is making it seem like he’s getting some from you when we both know you’re a prude.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Charlotte silences me with a finger and says, “Maybe you should shut the hell up before I tell everyone here about the time you had to go to the hospital because you had an allergic reaction to fucking a grapefruit.” Charlotte shrugs. “Oops.”

Everyone within hearing distance snorts a laugh, and his eyes go wide.

“In case you forgot, Charlie,” he snaps, “the only reason I even tried that was because you couldn’t ever finish me off!” My spine straightens, grip tightening on Charlotte. “Noah will be ready to dump your ass once he realizes you’re a shitty lay.”

Rushing to stand, I pull Charlotte with me and gently nudge her out of the way as my blood boils. I regret not putting a stop to his idiotic comments when they were dating, but I sure as hell will now.

“Why don’t you get my girl’s name out of your mouth?” I bark.

Jonathan howls a laugh. “She was my girl way before she was yours.”

The reminder is unwelcome. “Well, she’s not anymore.”

“Thank god for that.” He rolls his eyes. I glance towards Charlotte, whose arms are wrapped around herself, jaw clenched.

“You should have a little more respect,” I say, walking towards him. Calm down, Caruso. I scan our surroundings, and it looks like Bexley and some of the other coaches must have left. Good.

“I don’t need to respect you,” he says as we stand nose to nose.

“Not me. Charlotte. You’re ,” I say, poking his chest, “the one who fucked up. So maybe shut your mouth, put your tiny dick between your legs, and walk away.” I smile in his face as smoke blows out of his ears.

“Or what?” Jonathan asks.

“Trust me,” I say, gritting my teeth, fists clenched at my sides. “You really don’t want to find out.”

Get control of yourself, Caruso.

You’re not this guy.

A wide grin spreads across his face. “Maybe I do,” he says, shoving my shoulders unexpectedly, and I stumble backwards, the heat of the bonfire throwing up alarms in my head. I leap out of the way just in time, the bystanders gasping as I catch my balance.

“Seriously?” Charlotte shouts at Jonathan, her voice shaky. “You’re going to shove my boyfriend in the fire for what?” My boyfriend. She’s now directly in front of him, and I hurry to her side. If he lays a single finger on her, someone will definitely be headed to the ER tonight, and it won’t be me.

Jonathan glances between us, and I can feel the presence of the boys at my back. “Walk away,” I tell him.

The wheels spin in his head, but he’s at least smart enough to realize he’s outnumbered and nudges Charlotte aside as he storms off.

She bumps into my chest and I start after him, but she stops me. I look down at her, unable to ignore the way the orange fire reflects off the moisture welling in her eyes.

“Char.”

“I’m fine,” she croaks before clearing her throat, and I throw my arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s go.”

“You just got here,” she argues. “And it’s your birthday.”

“I don’t care. We’re heading out,” I tell the boys, and they wave us off.

I tuck her head into my side, and as we head down the path towards the cabins, her shoulders begin to shake.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I tell her, squeezing tighter. “We’re almost there.”

The hike lasts an eternity, but we finally arrive at my cabin. I unlock the door and bring her inside. She pulls away and swipes tears off her face while kicking off her shoes, then crawls into my bed and under the covers. Her pained gaze connects with mine, and my chest caves in on itself.

“Charlotte,” I murmur, following her lead and climbing in, then tug her close. She falls against me, resting her hand on my chest, toying with my necklace.

“I feel ridiculous…”

Trailing my fingertips along her arm, I ask, “Why?”

“I swore I wouldn’t care what he says anymore. But he talks shit one time, and I’m ready to throw up.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She scoffs. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who forced you into all this. I should’ve asked you before pimping you out to be my fake boyfriend.”

Fake.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I say, and she shakes her head, her pretty brown eyes glistening. “Please, don’t cry.”

“I don’t want to, but I’m so angry.” She rubs a tear away. “What if he was right?”

Turning on my side, I face her, and she matches my position so we’re lying nose to nose. I tuck a dark strand of hair behind her ear and rest my palm on her neck. “You are perfect exactly the way you are.” She sucks in a breath. “Don’t let your shithead ex, or anyone else for that matter, ever make you believe otherwise.” I rub my thumb along her jaw. “There’s nothing he said that could be right about you.”

“You don’t know that.” She presses her forehead to my chest. “Not about this.”

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. “What exactly is ‘this’?’” She lets out a heavy breath, and I take her chin between my fingers, tilting it up till her eyes meet mine. “You can tell me anything.”

She nibbles on her lower lip. “It’s embarrassing.”

“And you can still tell me. I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

She looks down at her hands, releasing a defeated sigh. “I’m not good at sex.”

She’s not… what? Anger floods my veins at how much he’s screwed up her self-esteem.

“I can’t—well, couldn’t—get Jonathan off unless he told me exactly what to do,” she continues. “And when I’d try my own things, he said it didn’t feel good.”

“Well, I imagine it’s hard to be confident when you’re constantly told you’re not any good.”

She nods. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Their relationship was so much worse than I even realized. “Anything else?”

She twists her mouth. “He always said I was too vanilla.”

“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to do more…” I clear my throat. “Erotic things in the bedroom.”

“But that’s the thing,” she says, looking at me. “He only said it when I didn’t want to be physical.” So he manipulated her to sleep with him. “Whenever I brought up anything even remotely kinky, he’s the one who’d look at me like I had six heads. Or accuse me of needing role play to get off and that I wasn’t attracted to him.”

The thought of her dressed as a sexy professor slapping my ass with a ruler pops in my head, and I’m immediately hard.

Not the time.

“I’m so sorry he’s made you feel this way.” I’m also sorry I didn’t knock his ass out when I had the chance.

She shrugs. “I keep trying to reassure myself I’m not the problem, but I don’t really have any other data to go off of. Jonathan is the only person I’ve been with.”

Realization hits me. “Is that why you asked me to fuck you in Miami?” I ask timidly, pushing away the memory of her beautiful naked body begging for my touch. “So you had more… data?”

“Yeah.” She cringes. “It was a stupid idea.”

I shake my head. It was a lot of things, but—“It wasn’t stupid.”

“It was,” she assures me. “And it was unfair I tried to use you for that. You were right to say no.”

“I said no because I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“That’s why?” She bolts up, and I join suit. “ That’s why you said no?”

My brows pull together. “Yeah.”

“You said no because you thought I’d regret it?” she presses.

“Yes?” I say, confused by her reaction.

“My only regret is that he’s the last person I’ve been…” She swallows hard. “Intimate with.” A fire burns in the pit of my stomach. I definitely hate that too. “I keep thinking maybe if I sleep with someone else, I can, I don’t know, practice?”

“Practice?” I ask, a brow raised.

A blush creeps up her cheeks. “Yes.”

“What exactly are you hoping to practice ?” I ask, smashing my lips together to suppress a smile.

“All the”—she waves a hand around—“ stuff I said before.”

I rub a palm against my stubble. “So you want to increase your confidence, not be afraid to take charge, and try freaky shit without being judged?”

“Noah!” She slaps me on the arm. “I’m not saying I’m into, like, BDSM or anything.”

“You could be.” I smirk, tugging her hands forward and holding them in place. “There’s nothing wrong with a little light bondage.”

She rolls her lips together, a pretty pink blush hitting her cheeks. “I suppose that’s also a curriculum I wouldn’t mind exploring.”

“And you’re sure that’s what you want?” I ask, releasing her hands, trying to gauge where her head is at. “Someone to help you… practice?”

“Yes, absolutely,” she says, and her eyes light up. “Why? Do you know someone?”

My lips part open. “Yeah, me ?”

“You?” Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline.

“Yes?” My jaw clenches. “Or did you intend on fake dating me while fucking someone else?”

“No.” Her eyes widen. “But you told me never to ask you that again.”

“Only because if you do, I won’t say no,” I blurt, muscles freezing.

Why didn’t I make a rule for this?

Don’t fuck Charlotte definitely seems like it should be rule number one.

“You won’t?” she says in shock, the air thick with tension.

“Of course not.” I toy with my necklace. This is a bad idea. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. “Like you said, you need to practice so you can get your confidence up and forget him . And?—”

“You haven’t gotten any since spring break?” she fills in.

“Whoa.” I throw my hands up. “I didn’t sleep with anyone on spring break.”

“You’ve been in a dry spell longer than spring break ? That was months ago!”

“Hey!” My ears turn hot. “This isn’t about my sex life. It’s about yours.”

“It doesn’t really sound like you’d be experienced enough to help me anyways,” she says with a teasing look of disapproval, and I struggle to form a coherent sentence. I raise my brows, fighting a smirk, and she caves, a wicked smile spreading across her face. “So to be clear, you’re offering sex lessons?”

My mouth goes dry. “Call it whatever you want.”

“Let’s call it that.” She sits on her heels, folding her hands in her lap like we’re opening a negotiation. But hey, any negotiation that ends with an orgasm is one I want to be a part of. “How are you going to give me lessons if you haven’t even got any recently?”

“Charlotte!” My mouth falls open, and she throws her head back, laughing. I release a heavy breath, thankful her sense of humor is back.

“Sorry, sorry.” She reins it in. “I know you have your reputation. ” I blink at her, unsure how to respond as she contemplates me. “Okay, I accept your offer.”

“Really?” Is she fucking with me?

“Yes.” She shifts in place. “I don’t want to go a single second longer with him being the last one to touch me that way.”

My body tenses.

You and me both.

“So you… want to start now?” I ask hesitantly.

“I’m game if you are,” she says, eyes hopeful.

Stop acting like you’re losing your virginity and shake off the damn nerves, Caruso.

I scoot to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge, and place my feet on the floor. “Come here.”

She climbs off the mattress and stands before me. I’ve kept my hands mostly to myself during this conversation because I didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything. I didn’t want my touch distracting her… or me.

But her intentions are clear.

Charlotte Benson can use me in any way she pleases.

“Are you ready?” I ask, placing my hands on her hips, just below the hem of her shirt.

She nods, releasing a shaky breath as the corners of her mouth quirk. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” I say, staring up into her pretty brown eyes. With my foot, I kick her legs apart. “Now be a good girl and straddle my lap.”

She bites her lower lip and places her hands on my shoulders, gaze not leaving mine as she sends me a wicked grin. Fuck.

My dick twitches, and there’s no way I’ll be able to hide that when she lowers herself onto me.

She grips my shoulders, then throws a leg on each side, straddling my lap as instructed. Holy shit, this is happening. Her center brushes against my cock, and even with all these clothes between us, I have to fight a groan.

Her curious eyes search mine.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, holding her hips.

“Of course.” She brushes her fingers along the side of my neck. “So tell me, professor, how do we start?”

I stifle another groan. Don’t rush this.

“If you just want to kiss and get comfortable,” I say, dragging my thumb along her lips, “we can do that.” I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to explore these again without an audience. “If you want to do more”—I slide my hand into her hair, gripping it and angling her mouth upwards—“I’m down for that too.” We’re a breath apart. “And if at any point at all you want to stop, tell me. Okay?”

Nodding, she lets out a whimpered approval. My hands slide down her body, fingertips dipping under her shirt, and she gasps as I nudge the material upwards. “This okay for you?”

She nods again.

“Use your words, soffione .”

“It’s more than okay,” she murmurs.

More than okay.

Her response pleases me, and I pull the shirt up and over her head, exposing a blue bra. My eyes zero in on the valley of her breasts. So soft. I snake my hand around her back, fingers finding the clasp, and unhook it.

Charlotte giggles. “Maybe you have some experience after all.”

This woman.

Pulling away, I narrow my eyes at her. We hold our gaze as I bring my hand to her shoulder, taking the strap between my fingers, and slowly slide it down. Her cheeks flush as we continue our staring contest, and I move to the other shoulder, brushing the strap off. The bra falls, and she shimmies it off, my eyes dropping to her breasts. Her tempting, delicious breasts. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Sliding my fingers in her hair, I grip it, tilting her head, and my mouth captures the soft skin on the side of her neck, sucking gently. She releases a breathy moan as I pepper kisses on her collarbone, cheek, jaw, everywhere but the one place I’m desperate to. The anticipation of returning to that ethereal plane fires electricity from my every neuron.

“Noah,” she whispers, shaking her head as I wrap an arm around her back, holding her to me. “You don’t have to do this.”

Does she not want to?

Turning, I slowly ease her down to the center of the mattress, my lips tracing her jaw. With every breath her mouth draws closer, my pulse quickening until our lips are centimeters apart. I brush a stray hair out of her face, and her eager gaze finds mine.

“Tell me to stop,” I beg.

“I’d rather die.”

Our mouths collide, stars dancing in my vision as I’m transported back to our cosmic dream. Slipping my tongue out, I coax her lips open, and she lets out a soft moan that causes the hair on my arms to stand.

“Sorry,” she pants, and I pull back, our eyes locking.

“Any normal guy will go crazy if you moan into their mouth. I’m no exception.” Nibbling on her lower lip, she gives a small nod and scoots back on the bed. Lying against the pillows, she opens her legs in invitation. Am I dreaming? A wicked smile spreads across her face, and her eyes drink me in hungrily. There she is. Taking my time, I crawl up the bed, slip between her thighs, and hover over her. “You are breathtakingly beautiful.”

“And you are very good at this faking it thing.”

My jaw ticks. “I have a new rule.”

She cocks a brow. “And that is?”

“Whenever we’re ‘faking it,’ whether it’s the dating or the…”

“Sex lessons,” she finishes, with a teasing smile.

“Right. The dating or the lessons. Can we just live in the moment?”

It’s awfully hard to keep it up while being consistently reminded this is all just for practice.

A small smile crosses her lips. “I can do that.”

“Good.” I slide my palm up her leg, and she giggles, squirming beneath me. I sit up, straddling her, and remove my shirt, then toss it to the ground. She places her hands on my stomach, dangerously close to my dick, and I savor the attention. “Fuck,” I say breathlessly, looking down as her perfect, perky tits beg for me to taste them. Our eyes connect as I run my hands along her soft sides, pausing on her ribcage, inches from her breasts. Her chest rises and falls heavily.

Lowering my head, I trail kisses from her jaw, down the column of her neck, and toward her collar bone. She squirms beneath me while I drag a calloused hand up her leg.

“Relax,” I remind her gently. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Be yourself. Let loose. You want something? Tell me.”

Her breathy sigh fills the air as she throws her head against the pillow and pushes her chest toward me in invitation. Anticipation races through me. Does she want this as bad as I do? I dart out my tongue, gliding it over the swell of her breast, and suck her hard nipple into my hungry mouth, flicking against it. Bringing my hand to her other breast, I caress it gently, then rub my thumb over the hardened peak.

I grin, fully satisfied, continuing to taste every inch of her skin as my throbbing cock begs for more. This isn’t real. I glide further down her body, kissing her soft stomach, and our eyes connect as I hover above the hem of her shorts. This isn’t real.

I drag the denim downwards, and she lifts her hips, allowing me to tug them off her perfect body. This isn’t real. She lies spread out before me, only a pair of forest-green panties separating us, and I rub my hand against my hard dick. “ Cazzo .”

This isn’t real.

Then why does she feel like mine?

1 ? IT: Cazzo - EN: Fuck