Betting on You(70)
I tilted my head and turned to him. “So you’re saying—”
“We could stand here and watch them skate, or we could stick with the plan and make them uncomfortable.”
Did he want to kiss me again?
“Let’s do that,” I said, a little too quickly, but the truth was that I was dying to kiss him again.
Actually, I assured myself as I let my eyes wander over the dimple in his chin, kissing Charlie was a great idea. Because there were always sparks when you kissed someone new the first few times; that was natural.
So it stood to reason that the more I kissed Charlie and made the newness wear off, the less sparky it would be and the more clinical it would become.
This, I thought as he looked down at me, this was a plan.
“Atta girl.” Charlie grabbed my hand and led me over to a huge pine tree. We were still in public, but the tree gave us a little privacy. I felt the trunk against my back as he lowered his mouth toward mine, so close that our breath mingled, and then he stopped.
Hovered, his dark eyes hot on mine.
Sending electricity to every nerve ending in my body as he waited for me to make a move.
I set my hands on his chest, feeling bold as I caught his lower lip between my teeth and dragged them along the edge. His breathing was a little ragged when I licked at the corner of his mouth, and then I angled my head the tiniest amount and closed my eyes, feeling a wild confidence that was new and downright intoxicating.
Charlie had been still the entire time I’d been toying, but just like that, he moved in closer, pressing my back against the tree as his mouth took over. It was like when summer sprinkles give themselves over to the crack of thunder, abruptly switching from a light tease of rain to a lightning-fueled downpour.
His hands clenched on my face—not painful, but more of a flex—and his body moved even closer as his lips and teeth and tongue went wild over mine. The game was forgotten and technique left behind as he kissed me like I was moving to Moldova and this was the last time we’d ever be together.
He kissed me like he’d been holding back for years and was finally giving in.
No kiss, in the history of civilization, had ever been that good, and I grabbed his shirt in both of my hands and did my best to give back as perfectly—and thoroughly—as I was getting.
A noise broke through the storm, and I could hear people walking in our general direction.
Charlie pulled back and watched me, his eyes traveling all over my face. He didn’t grin or make a joke, and his voice was gravelly when he said, “They’re watching us.”
“What?” I asked, touching my lips with my index finger. “They are?”
His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed and nodded. “They stopped skating and they’re talking. Dramatically.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, looking toward the rink. “Trouble in paradise, I think.”
“Um, that’s really great,” I mumbled, still stuck in a post-kiss stupor. I tucked my hair behind my ears and rambled, “Yes. Great.”
That brought his eyes back to my face, and his mouth slid into a slow half grin. “You are fucking gorgeous when you’re kiss drunk, Mitchell, did you know that?”
I grinned back at him, feeling hot in spite of the chilly fall evening. Drunk was exactly how I felt; blissfully, tipsily, giddily under the influence of Charlie—both his kiss and the unexpected compliment. His smirky fucking gorgeous felt, to me, like he’d called me the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I did not know that,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek to hold in the giggle. “Thank you.”
He reached out and ran his finger over my cheek, muttering “My favorite thing” before turning away from me and yelling, “It’s cold, Emily—can we go home and have cocoa, or are you skating all night?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Bailey
“Glasses?”
I lay there on the pullout sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah?”
“You know there’s nothing wrong with liking him, right?”
“Who?”
“Scott.” Charlie’s voice was thick with sleepiness as he said, “It doesn’t change anything with your dad if you like him.”
“What? Charlie.” I sat up and looked in his direction, even though I couldn’t see more than his form in the dark. I didn’t want him to say that, because I was already struggling to keep my resolve in the whole get-rid-of-Scott plan. “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be helping me sabotage his relationship?”
“Settle your ass down,” he said, amusement in his voice. “I am here to ruin his weekend—no worries. But, honestly, he’s a nice guy, and if you change your mind, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Well, I’m not.” I shook my head and tried to forget how much of a “nice guy” Scott was, because it didn’t matter—it wasn’t about that. My concern was about preserving the normalcy of my life, the comforting sameness of my family unit of two. “Changing my mind. I don’t care how nice he is. I don’t want him moving in and changing everything.”
“And that’s fine,” he said. “Now lie back down like a good girl.”