Page 18

Chapter 18

Charlie

I t’s been two weeks since I’ve stayed at my flat in Edinburgh. Two weeks of acting like it’s convenient, practical, easier to sleep at Brodie’s place. But that’s bollocks. Truth is: I sleep better with his arm around me, and nothing makes sense anymore unless I’m curled up against him.

He’s made me spaghetti with meatballs four times. I’ve obliterated him in Mario Kart every single night, and the smug look on my face has nearly got me kissed to death. We’ve made it through every Rocky film, arguing over which one’s best. He likes his popcorn sweet. I like mine salty. We compromise by dumping both into the same bowl, and I act like it doesn’t make my teeth ache.

He’s fucked me on every surface in his house, and I fucked him right back.

I never thought I’d be happy like this. Nobody meddling or interfering, no expectations or photo ops. Just us, getting to know each other, figuring out how to exist together without the world pressing in.

Except for Theo, obviously.

She’s the only one who knows, and that’s mostly because I couldn’t stop myself from telling her. One look at me after I sealed the sponsorship, and she sensed something was up. Plus, there was the little incident with the phone. After that, there wasn’t much point in lying.

Theo’s been her usual no-nonsense self about it. She doesn’t push. Right now, she sweeps into my office, a coffee in each hand, and nudges the door shut with her hip. ‘Ready for South Africa?’

The coffee smells like salvation. I take it with a grateful hum. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be. You’d think two weeks of prep would make this easier.’

Theo flips through her folder. ‘Media schedule’s locked, but we might have to squeeze in an extra interview with MacRae if the last game goes well. Sponsor’s pushing for more face time.’

‘He’ll love that,’ I say. ‘Thrives under pressure.’

‘He thrives under you .’

I choke on my coffee. ‘Theo!’

She doesn’t even look up. ‘Please. You’re glowing from all the sex. I’ve seen less obvious neon signs.’

I press the cup to my lips and hope it hides how my cheeks have caught fire. ‘You know we’re keeping it quiet. At least for now. If anyone catches wind, it’ll—’

‘Yeah, yeah. The professional fallout, the media shitstorm, yada yada.’ She waves a hand like she’s heard it all before. ‘But you’re happy, correct?’

I open my mouth to answer, but the truth sticks in the back of my throat. Happy doesn’t quite cover it. It’s terrifying and huge and makes me feel like I’ve been set on fire from the inside. I don’t know how to put it into words without sounding like I’ve lost my mind. So, I just nod, and Theo narrows her eyes at me like she knows exactly what I’m not saying.

‘Good,’ she mutters, shoving the folder into her bag. ‘Don’t let him muck it up. Or I’ll gut him like a fish.’

‘I’ll tell him you said that.’

‘Do that. Maybe it’ll keep him in line.’

And for a minute, I forget about the stress and the travel and the endless juggling act that is my life.

I’m so grateful for her friendship.

‘Okay, I’ll wrangle Brodie’s training clips into something postable and schedule your client check-ins for next week. Someone needs to keep the show running while you’re away,’ she says and turns around.

Seven minutes later, Brodie saunters through the door. Suitcase in one hand and a tiny plant in the other. Two months since the first time he set foot in here. Instead of a suit, he’s wearing joggers and a hoodie, cap pulled low, and I have to suppress an actual fan-girl squeal at how effortlessly, insanely hot he looks.

He holds a tiny succulent out to me. It has pink-tinged leaves, potted in a blue ceramic cup.

‘Awww, you brought me one of your plant babies?’

‘For your desk. Figured you could use something to keep you company while you boss everyone around and pretend to work.’

I snatch it from him. ‘ Pretend to work? You do know I’m the reason we’re flying business class to South Africa, right?’

He grunts, like he doesn’t believe me. Then his eyes flick to my suitcases. ‘You planning on moving to Cape Town?’

‘I like being prepared,’ I say and lift my chin.

Brodie drops his gaze to my mouth. Before I can throw out another smartarse comeback, he moves. He cradles my jaw, and I barely get a breath in before he kisses me, lips just a little chapped from the wind. He licks into me, deep and possessive, tasting faintly of mint and a whole lot of longing.

‘Not here…’

Brodie cups my breast, rough palm hot through the silk. He squeezes hard enough to make the lace bite, the faint scratch sending heat straight to where I’m throbbing for his mouth. I gasp into the kiss, and he takes it like a promise, backing me into the desk. Then it’s all him – urgent, unrelenting – as he grinds against my core.

He grins, cocky and pleased with himself. ‘Damn, Charlie. You’re so easy to wind up.’

I glare at him, or at least I try to. It’s a bit difficult when his knuckles work my peaks through the fabric. ‘Control yourself, MacRae.’

He trails his mouth down my neck, teeth grazing skin, and his voice drops to a low murmur. ‘I don’t want to. I want you squirming right here, trying not to make a noise. Let’s see how quiet you can be, aye?’

I shove at his chest, but it’s like attempting to move a mountain. He chuckles, pinches my nipple again, and I let out a moan.

‘There’s my girl. I remember her from this morning when she was riding my face before breakfast like a fucking rodeo star.’ Then he draws back. ‘When’s she gonna let me take her out for a proper date?’

‘Brodie.’ My stomach tightens. ‘You know why we can’t.’

He grips my waist with both hands, staring me down. ‘Why the fuck not? You think I’m losing sleep over what other people think?’

I shake my head, trying to break free of that magnetic gravity he has. ‘It’s too risky. The media, the team, your image and career, my agency, the sponsors—’

‘Let them talk. I don’t care.’ His tone goes flat, eyes blazing. ‘I’m done sneaking around like we’re ashamed of each other.’

‘Nobody is ashamed. But if anyone finds out we’re together, it could screw things up. For you, the Rebels. Everything I’m building here. We’ve worked too damn much to fix your image, and I’m not letting it all unravel.’

He glowers at me, but I know he understands. He just hates it.

‘We can’t keep this a secret forever.’

‘I know.’ I trail my fingers through his hair. ‘Let’s wait till the season’s over. Please.’ I hate how small I sound.

‘You’re making it really fucking hard, Charlie Harrington. And I don’t just mean my dick. Not sure how long I can play by your rules.’

My heart slams into my ribs. ‘Yeah. I hear you.’

And I do. It’s just …

Brodie swears under his breath, frustration rippling through him, but he softens when he sees my face.

He pulls me closer, resting his forehead against mine. ‘Fine. Have it your way for now. But hear me out, woman.’ His voice is merely a husky rasp. ‘When it’s over, I’m taking you out. A real date. Dinner. Dancing. Fucking karaoke again, if that’s what it takes to get you to see I’m serious.’

He draws back to look me in the eye. His erection pushes against my stomach. ‘And then I take you home, and when I’m fucking you so deep you can’t breathe, I’ll make sure you know it’s not just your body I’m claiming. It’s your smart mouth, your stubborn head, and your fucking heart. Got it?’

‘You don’t like being my sexy little secret?’

‘I want the world to know I’m your sexy big boyfriend.’ He says it low, serious now. ‘I’m not giving you up, Charlie. Not when I’ve just started to get this right.’

I can’t even process how that knocks me in the chest. It’s everything I’ve denied myself to feel. To be wanted so fiercely it’s inevitable.

To be loved like this.

To … love like this.

It almost makes me mad.

Because I’m aware that I’m the one holding back. I’m the one too scared to let the world see us. And see me as weak and irrational, irresponsible, and unprofessional. I couldn’t even make it a full year without another rugby player in my bed. They’ll think I’ve got no spine. That I roll onto my back for thick biceps, chunky thighs, and a bit of beard.

He lays it out there like we’re the most natural thing. He’s already decided, and I’m gonna have to get on board.

And god, I want to. I want to be that person who doesn’t give a shit what people think or how it might blow back on me. I want to be brave, let him take me out and make me laugh and hold my hand without looking over my shoulder. Piggyback rides and public smooching and kissy brunch.

But that’s not me. Never has been. I play it safe and keep things tidy. Professional. Managed. Contained.

Except with Brodie.

With him, I’m already becoming someone I don’t recognise. Someone uninhibited, desperate to keep…whatever this is from slipping through my fingers.

Dammit. I have to figure this out. But not now. I need more time.

I can’t speak, so I nod, lips parting on a shaky breath. ‘Okay.’

‘Good. Now grab your shite, Champ. We’re gonna miss the flight.’