She wiggled her hips, pinned to the mattress, and then he was looking at her, all wide eyes and parted lips. Emotions swirled across his face, surprise and desire and awe.
Absurdly, Jackie’s words returned to her: Like you were put on this earth to ruin his life.
“Charlie.”
No one else called her Charlie. The way he said it, it was more than a nickname. He sounded like he was describing a miracle. Her.
“You have me.”
And then there was no more talking.
Chapter 14
SLACK MESSAGE FROM ROGER LUDERMORE TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 5:18 AM: penn station is disgusting
Consciousness broke through slowly. She was wedged between the wall and the burning heat of a man’s sticky arms, her neck stiff and her back sore. Charlotte and Reece were a pile of awkwardly bent limbs. Her hair had gotten caught under his shoulder and he’d drooled on their shared pillow. Neither of them had slept deeply, wriggling in the stiff sheets and chasing each other’s heat like lizards on a sunlit rock.
But miraculously, she felt fantastic. Exhausted, hungry, and somewhat hungover, but fantastic.
Damn. She felt happy. Dewy grass green and daisy yellow.
Gentle sunlight bathed the room; she guessed it was around eight in the morning. That meant they’d gotten roughly three hours of sleep? Maybe?
The memory of last night’s whirlwind returned as she noticed Reece still held her hand. She squeezed it and smiled, even as the uncomfortable truth arrived: It was Sunday. They had run out of borrowed moments in the time warp.
Her lungs tightened. This precious escape from New York was over. She’d have to get a new storage box for this weekend and all its soaring, fleeting rightness. Within their magical window of honesty last night, there’d been no discussion of their impeding after.
And yet…
You have me.
Lips found her neck, soft and delicious. Reece’s arm tightened around her waist. An adventurous hand found her breast. Charlotte settled back into his embrace. She could binge on his touch all night and still not have enough.
“Good morning,” she said.
Reece hummed against her shoulder, not awake enough for words. He pressed his erection against her ass. She chuckled as he buried his nose in her hair.
Charlotte rolled over in the cradle of his arms. Reece in the morning belonged on a subway ad for memory foam mattresses. His eyes were puffy, his hair a mad scientist’s tangle. He looked beautiful. She wanted to kiss his bee-stung lips and feed him pancakes over the Sunday crossword.
He squinted at her, his face half-smushed into the pillow. “G’mornin.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and rubbed some sleep gunk from the corner of her eye with his thumb. For some reason, the gesture was terribly romantic.
“How did you sleep?” She kissed his wrist before snuggling closer. He lay on his back, and she nuzzled her head under his chin, draping herself over his chest.
“Good.” He kissed her hair. “Terrible, but good.” His fingers snuck under the bottom of her top to tap a pattern against her spine. She’d slept in his shirt, the white fabric a little worse for wear with their mingled sweat. They made a cursory attempt to make themselves respectable in case Garrett returned, but judging by his empty bed, they had the room to themselves all night.
“We’ve never done this before,” Reece observed. He kept his tone light, an open-ended remark instead of a question. He could have been referring to anything, and she realized he was testing her, trying to feel her out without putting pressure on her.
Sweet little cautious muffin.
“I like it.” Charlotte splayed her hand across his chest, a finger tweaking his nipple. He shuddered before closing his arms around her again, secure and soft. “You’re warm.”
“Is that all I’m good for? A space heater?” Teasing her again.
“A human-shaped furnace.”
Reece pulled on a stray curl of her hair. “Happy to serve, Charlie.”
She ran her fingers across the prickly growth on his jaw. Reece stayed still as she traced his face, his eyes tracking the movements of her hand. He was so willing to be vulnerable with her, to let her touch and look and explore his body. Affection spread through her gut and up her chest like a blush.
But…it was Sunday. In a matter of hours, he’d get on the highway and head west while she boarded a train.
Did Reece want to take this with them when they left campus? Surely he did, right? What else could you have me mean?
“Hey.” Reece tapped her on the forehead. “What’s happening up there?”
He read her panic better than she could. Charlotte thought longingly of the Feelings Chart. She wanted to point at her emotions instead of articulating them.
Unsure. Afraid. Needy.
She rested her chin on his sternum. She just had to be honest. It wasn’t that hard.
“I don’t know how to pretend this didn’t happen.” It wasn’t exactly what she meant, but she didn’t know how to explain the dread she felt when she imagined saying good-bye.
She never got over Reece the first time round, she just pushed her feelings way down deep until he returned to jar them loose. Leaving campus today would be eons worse. This time she knew what she wasn’t taking with her.
Reece frowned as he studied her face. He pushed himself up to brace his weight on his elbows. “Charlie, I…I can’t pretend.” His voice darkened, taking on new urgency. “I won’t.”
She didn’t need to ask what he meant.
