One Golden Summer(88)

When I cry out, white-hot pleasure ripping through me in shuddering waves, Charlie brings my mouth to his. Our kisses are deep, our tongues searching, and when he begins to pick up his pace, my nerve endings tighten and ripple once more. One orgasm is about to roll into another, or maybe it never ended. I’d be surprised, except this is Charlie. He can play my body like it has black and white keys.

I tell him I’m still coming, and he smiles against my lips. Charlie watches me, grinning that sexy, smirky grin of his. He doesn’t let up until I go limp, and I collapse against his chest, trying to recapture my breath.

His hand traces a path up and down my spine, tangling in the ends of my hair. The contrast of how big he is and how gentle his touches are brings goose bumps to my arms.

I press my lips to his chest. Sample it with my tongue. Hum at how much I like the salt of his skin. I move to his shoulder. His neck. Jaw. Tasting. Kissing. Sucking. Biting.

“I could make a meal out of you,” I murmur.

Charlie laughs. “I think you already are.”

I move on to his mouth. “This is my favorite part.”

“Kissing?”

“Your lips.” I suck on his bottom one, releasing it with a pop. “The way they flirt and smirk and tease.” I trace the arches of his top lip with my tongue.

His whole face smiles back at me, not just the curve of his mouth. Dimples. The lines at his temples. The glint of his eyes.

“I must be slipping if my mouth is still your favorite part.”

I grin. “Maybe you need to try a little harder. You just made me do all the work.”

I’ve barely finished the sentence when Charlie has us both on our feet. His hands skate over my arms and he drops a kiss to my neck.

“You trust me?”

“I trust you.” I’m trembling with anticipation as Charlie turns me around and bends me over the counter.

I trust him more than anyone.



* * *





I can’t stop smiling. Charlie and I parted hours ago, and the giddy grin hasn’t left my face.

“Would you like to tell me why you look like the cat who ate the canary?” Nan asks as we sip tea on the deck. Charlie had plans with Harrison this afternoon, but my gaze keeps drifting to his dock, waiting for a glimpse of him. “Or shall I guess?”

I don’t reply, just lift my mug to my still-swollen lips.

“Tall, handsome, and strong as a grizzly?” Nan looks at me over her glasses, and my smile grows.

“Face like a movie star? Voice made for the radio? A backside that could crack a walnut?”

I choke on my tea.

“Shall I go on?” Nan says as my phone buzzes.

    Heather: Yesssssssss!!! GET IT, ALI!

Heather: Tell me EVERYTHING. When? Where? How was it?

Heather: GIRTH!!!!!



More overexcited messages follow. I couldn’t hold it in. The best sex of my life with a man I’ve come to care about deeply. I had to tell someone.

Strangely, my first instinct was to call Charlie as soon as we kissed goodbye.

“Can you believe that just happened?” I wanted to say. “Can you believe how good it was?”

Heather was my next option.

I dash out a reply.

    Me: Today. Darkroom. Exquisite. Can’t talk now. Call you later.

Heather: YESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! TREVOR, WHO!?



I laugh, then turn my attention back to Nan.

“Do you mind if I spend the night at Charlie’s?”

“Of course not,” she says, setting her cup down.

The next time my eyes travel to the Floreks’ dock, I see him standing there. Charlie waves, and we wave back.

“I told you,” Nan says, smiling over the water.

“What’s that?”

She glances at me. “Good things happen at the lake.”





46




Charlie brings Nan takeout from the Tavern for dinner. He tells her our plans for the evening as he piles her plate high with braised red cabbage, mashed potatoes, and pork schnitzel. According to him, he’s teaching me how to make his mom’s pierogi. Nan and I exchange doubtful looks.

“We’re cooking?” I say on the way to his house.

“Oh, we’re cooking.” He flashes me his sex eyes, and I snort.

I’m wearing my slinky green dress and have packed nothing but a toothbrush and tomorrow’s clothes. I didn’t even bring my camera. I’ve been waiting all afternoon to get my hands back on Charlie. For all his talk about bedroom moves, I doubt I can wait to get upstairs. But then he leads me inside, straight to the kitchen. There’s a five-pound bag of potatoes and a sack of flour on the counter.

I glance at him. He’s wearing jeans on his bottom half, a T-shirt on the top. His lips are still a little swollen and his face is a lot smug.

“We’re actually making pierogi?”

“Like I said.” His gaze tours the length of my body, and when it returns to my face, it’s dark with promise. “Though I didn’t tell your grandmother my other plans.”

“Which are?”

“Eat. Swim. Et cetera.”

“I thought you needed to wait thirty minutes after eating before swimming.”