Page 38

Bailey

Charlie holds me while we watch Andi and Tom get carted away in the back of a limo. Before she left, I helped Andi change into her traveling clothes. A week in the Bahamas will do her good, even if I’m not sure about her new husband.

After we say goodnight to everyone, I say my goodbyes to Lionel, Charles and Kendra, and Mawmaw. It sucks and I cry until the only thing left of my makeup is a little bit of waterproof mascara. I leave with a promise from Lionel to come to California to visit and a gentle whisper from Charles, telling me if I ever want to come back, just let him know.

I know I’m distant on the way home, but I can’t get my mind to stop reeling. All these people . . . they’ve come to be my family. Some more than my own flesh and blood. How do you leave people like that and move on with your life? I know I’ll be back to visit, but I don’t think it will be the same. I know it won’t. Andi will have children. Charlie will probably be married or engaged by the next time I see him. I don’t know if I can handle that — seeing him with another woman. Would she be like Priscilla? Flashy and superficial? Or will she be demure and mysterious?

God, whoever she is, I already envy her.

Why can’t Charlie and I be together? I guess, the only real answer is two different worlds. He’s here. I’m in California. He’s free to live whatever life he pleases. I’m bound by my mother to the life of a socialite.

And, while I know he doesn’t hate me anymore, I know he doesn’t love me enough to ask me to stay. If he did, he would have by now.

We get home and I’m fully prepared to tell him I’m going to spend the night in my own room. It’s time to rip the bandaid off. Staying with him tonight would only prolong the heartbreak that’s sure to hit me in the morning.

I still have to say goodbye . . . Tomorrow, he’ll be taking me to the airport.

What do I even say to him?

I go into his room to grab the rest of my belongings, stopping at the foot of the bed when the door clicks behind me. A heaviness settles in the room, like Charlie and I are sucking all the oxygen out.

Charlie steps up behind me slowly, far enough away that I can’t feel him, but close enough that the heat from his body greets my back.

“Who does this belong to?” he asks, his voice dark and heavy. His fingers trail down my spine and cup the swell of my ass. My body responds to his, warmth settling between my thighs and a lump forming in my throat.

“You,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“And this?” His hand moves around my waist, under the slit in my dress to graze the front of my underwear. Tingles blossom from my skin where he touches me and spread throughout my body, making me shiver.

“You.”

His hand gripping my rear reaches around my front and presses a palm over my heart. I still, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t, instead pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Turn around.”

I do and the look on his face makes my chest clench painfully. He takes my face in his hand, cradling it like I’m precious to him. Without saying a word, he presses his lips to mine gently, a satisfied growl reverberating through his chest.

The kiss deepens when I wrap my arms around his neck and whimper, needing him closer to me. I slip my tongue in his mouth and he groans, dipping his head and tasting me.

“This dress is beautiful. Take it off,” Charlie demands against my lips gruffly.

I chuckle deviously, slipping out of his arms and laying back on the bed in front of him. Something about tonight feels different, like more’s at stake. My heart, for one, but that was stolen the moment we first kissed. My pride? No. I can’t place my finger on it.

Charlie’s eyes glow wickedly in the darkness of the room. The moonlight from the window casts him in shadows, making him even more devastatingly handsome than he usually is.

Taking it as a personal challenge, Charlie stoops down, slipping my heels off one by one and placing a kiss to each of my insteps. Then, his hands slide higher until they’re pulling the hem of my dress up to expose me to him.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs, pulling my underwear to the side and dipping down to lick through my folds. I arch off the bed, the sudden pleasure catching me by surprise.

Abruptly, he stands, flipping me over onto my stomach and slapping my ass. I gasp, the sting erupting over my backside only deepening my desire for him.

“But I wasn’t bad,” I murmur, though I’m secretly yearning for him to do it again.

“You will be, though.”

He doesn’t explain what he means. He doesn’t have to. I’ll be going home tomorrow. My breath hitches and the question is on the tip of my tongue, but he delivers another swat on the globe of my ass and I clamp my mouth shut.

“What to do with you,” he murmurs, reaching up and pulling the zipper on the back of my dress down.

“I can think of a lot of things you can do with me.”

Ask me to stay. Give me a reason to think you want me. Let me know I’m not crazy.

He slips the dress out from underneath me until I’m in just my underwear. Then, he takes that off, too, until I’m completely naked and spread out beneath him.

“You’re turn,” I breathe, my breathing ragged with the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

Charlie smirks at me and slips his suit jacket off, tossing it on the chair in the corner of the room, along with my discarded dress. Then he removes his shirt and shoes, reaching for his belt before I stop him.

“Let me.”

I undo his pants and let them fall around his feet. Pulling his boxers down, his cock springs free, the thick vein on the underside protruding under the weight of his erection. He’s so hard it reaches toward his navel and my mouth waters to taste him.

I close the distance between us, slipping him past my lips and straight into my mouth with a brush of my tongue.

“Fuck, Bailey. I’ve been starved for you.”

He pulls me off him and lays me back against the pillows on the bed, sliding over me. The way he looks at me, like he’s memorizing every curve of my body, makes me think maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit. Maybe he cares more about me than I thought.

He moves down my torso, licking and sucking a path on his way. The lower he goes, the more the width of his shoulders presses my legs further apart. When he reaches my sex, his eyes lock with mine and with impatient fingers, he spreads me, lapping at my clit hungrily.

“Charlie,” I gasp, surging off the bed. His tongue latches on to my throbbing clit, sucking rhythmically, teasing me.

I roll my hips against his mouth shamelessly, chasing the pleasure only he can give me.

I writhe underneath him, crying out as the first waves of my orgasm take over and catapult me into pleasure.

“Oh, God,” I cry as the feeling spreads throughout my body, so intense that I lose all sense of reality for a moment.

Before I can gather my senses, Charlie rolls me back onto my stomach, aligns his cock at my entrance and spears inside me, filling me completely until I’m clutching the pillows below me in sweet agony.

“Please,” I whimper when he doesn’t stop pushing inside. The sensation of being too full brings both pleasure and pain as Charlie starts to move, rolling his hips into mine.

His lust is frantic, tangible as he quickly builds up a rhythm, fucking into me like I was made for him.

“Remember this, Bailey,” Charlie groans, fucking me so hard from behind that his groin slaps against my flesh, filling the room with dirty sounds. “Remember who makes you come so hard you can’t fucking breathe. Remember that the next time some prick puts his hands on you.”

“Charlie,” I gasp, when his fingers find my clit. He rolls it between his fingers and I come so fast and hard, I don’t have time to breathe.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, coming inside me with a groan. A pained growl rumbles through his chest, his head leaning against my shoulder. “Fuck, I’m desperate for you.”

He flips me over onto my back and sinks back into me, laying himself over me so his groin can brush over my clit with each stroke of his hips. He nuzzles into my hair, fucking me slow and easy.

My heart swells when he presses his lips against my cheek.

“Charlie, I—” I start. I have to tell him. I have to let him know how I feel .

“Shhh . . . baby . . . I know.”

The morning comes too fast. I wake to the sound of birds twenty minutes before the alarm is set to go off and stare at the ceiling. Five weeks of fun has finally come to an end and life is starting to trickle back in. Tomorrow I’ll wake up in my own bed, alone, surrounded by smells and sounds that I’ve forgotten about. I’m homesick, but not for California.

Charlie and I are quiet through the morning, taking a shower together where he washes my hair and then my body like I’m made of glass. I certainly feel like it, emotionally, anyway. A couple times I tear up, but I quickly turn my face to the water, so he won’t notice.

I guess there’s just some things you can’t change and this is one of them. The deal was five weeks. Drawing it out any longer would be suicide.

Neither of us eat breakfast. I don’t think I can stomach it. I check through my room one last time and make sure I got everything. It looks like I was never here, just how I wanted it. I cleaned the place top to bottom, even washing the bedding, though I’ve barely slept in the bed for the last couple of weeks.

Before I shut the bedroom door behind me, I take out the envelope I had stashed in the top of my bag and drop the flash drive inside, leaving it on top of the dresser with a heavy ache in my chest.

I finished writing my book earlier this week. I can’t stomach the thought of bringing it back with me — reading it when I know who it was written after. It will only serve as a gruesome reminder that Charlie will be here and I will be in California.

The airport is busy and alive with families coming down for vacation. By the time we make it to the lounge outside my gate, I just want to go back home, climb into bed and cuddle with Charlie until we fall asleep. He looks haggard. I wonder if he slept at all last night. We tore at each other for hours, kissing, touching. There wasn’t a moment where one part of him wasn’t in some part of me. Like he was branding himself into my skin. If the dark circles under his eyes aren’t enough to tell you how late it had been when we’d finally collapsed, the hickey just above his collar bone will.

“It’s time,” I murmur when they call my boarding. Neither of us stand for a second, like we can make time freeze if we just don’t move.

Finally, I concede though.

Charlie wraps his arms around me, hugging me with a fierceness I’m not prepared for. I cling to him, wishing the world would disappear.

My chest expands, uncomfortably tight. I blink back my tears, forcing myself to pull back from him.

“Thank you—”

“Don’t.” His eyes are a pale grey, dreary like the sky on a cloudy day — nothing like the fierce storminess I’ve come to love. “We’re not doing that.”

I reach up, caressing his cheek. It’s such an intimate gesture, yet already, I feel like he’s a thousand miles away.

He places a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Let me know if you ever get tired of California. ”

Then he steps back, leaving me cold and aching.

I’m tired of it now, I want to scream, but I don’t. I don’t say anything. Perfect little dolls don’t move to New Orleans to shack up with the bad boy their mothers hate. They don’t write steamy sex novels. They don’t work at a rowdy Bourbon Street bar. They marry the rich socialite with plenty of Daddy’s money, so they can spend their days drinking mimosas with the other women like them. They donate to charity, not so they can make a difference, but so they can use their good reputation as ammunition. Perfect little dolls follow the rules.

“Bye, Charlie.”

I suck in a shaky breath, averting my eyes, so he can’t see the tears finally spilling over. I grab my carry-on and hurry to my gate, not looking back. I can feel his eyes on me the entire way.

The poor lady at the gate looks at me with pity when I hand her my ticket and wipe my eyes on the back of my hand. I make it onto the plane, collapsing into my seat and shivering, even though it’s hot outside.

I should have known I would fall in love with him. Through the years, his anger toward himself, his sarcastic comments, his outward hatred for me should have turned me completely off, but it seems I can’t help myself.

I keep waiting for him to appear in the doorway of the plane, or outside, running down the tarmac like some cheesy nineties movie.

But as the doors to the plane close and there’s no sign of him anywhere, I know he’s not coming. This is officially over. Done. The deal has closed.

I silence a sob by biting my knuckle and sink back into my seat, not bothering to stop the tears rolling down my face this time.

Finally, the other shoe drops.