“If you’d ever like some peace studying, you’re more than welcome to come to Charlotte’s Library on Main Street,” Charlotte offers.

  Nora beams. “I’d love that.”

  “It was lovely meeting you, Charlotte,” Dad tells her before turning to me. “Son.”

  I give him a subtle nod. “Dad.”

  He takes one more look at Charlotte, before turning back to me. “I see it.”

  Charlotte, not understanding, starts wiping her face. “Do you see more glitter? I swear, it’s going to take me weeks to get all of it out.”

  I chuckle, pulling her against me. She curls her hand into my T-shirt, beaming up at me. I love how comfortable she is around me. “I’ll see you later, Dad.”

  After our goodbyes, I turn to Charlotte. “You ready to make your muscles hurt?” She straightens, placing her hands in a superhero pose. “What are you doing?”

  “Preparing myself.”

  I lift her easily, throwing her over my shoulder. I smack her arse, causing laughter to spill out of her. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Say that to my muscles,” she cries out.

  “Stop being a baby,” I lightly scold.

  “No, for that, I’m not doing it,” she argues. I place her down on her feet and she looks up at me, my stern expression burning into her. She sighs. “Oh, okay. I’m ready.”

  “Then let me lock up.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHARLOTTE

  I blow out another breath as I fall to my knees on the mat. For the millionth time. “Come on, Charlotte. You can do this.”

  No, I can’t.

  Tears sting my eyes as I get to my feet. “I’m never going to be strong enough.”

  “It’s not about being the strongest,” he tells me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I shiver at the touch, just like I always do with him. “Do you remember the most sensitive areas?”

  “Eyes, nose, groin, ankles, ears, throat, knees, and chest. Why?”

  “Okay, so which of them could you use with me behind you?”

  “Not your nose, throat or eyes because I can’t reach them,” I grumble. I’m sulking, I know it, but I really want to get this. Not just for me, but I want to make him proud.

  He chuckles and spins me around until my back is to his chest. As soon as his arms wrap around me, I bend forward and groan when I make another mistake.

  “No, stay there,” he croaks out, his voice hoarse.

  A shiver races down my spine, especially when his strong arms tighten around me.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment and the feel of him, hard and pressed against me, has me biting my lip to stop the moan threatening to slip free.

  “I want you to grab my ankle really hard, and I want you to yank it up as hard as you can whilst rising. Then—”

  Taking him off guard, I reach for his ankle and yank up, following the steps. I hear him hit the mat hard and I turn, dropping his leg to the floor.

  I squeal, bouncing up and down. There is so much joy flowing through me, I can’t keep the smile off my face. “I did it. I did it,” I squeal. “Just call me Jack.”

  Drew groans, sitting up. “I guess I’m the giant in this scenario.”

  Seeing him rub the back of his neck, I instantly feel guilty. “I’m really sorry. How bad did it hurt?”

  He chuckles, then shakes his head before focusing on me. “This is what was meant to happen. I just didn’t have time to brace myself for the fall. You did good. Really good.”

  I beam, puffing my chest out. “Can we do it again?”

  He jumps to his feet, and I turn, excitement pumping through me as he steps up behind me. The body heat coming off him seeps through to me and I close my eyes, anticipating the feel of his hands on me. He doesn’t disappoint, wrapping them around my chest, only this time, he grips my wrists, pinning them to my chest. “Now what do you do?”

  I push back, my arse pushing into his groin. He hisses, his body tensing. I do it again, trying to push him back whilst trying to free my arms, but he’s too strong.

  “Fuck,” he moans.

  I suck in my bottom lip as my stomach quivers. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, the tension between us different, electrified. I can’t see him, but I can sense it.

  His hand runs down my arm, moving across my stomach to my hip. He pushes my hips, grinding me back against him. “You do anything you can. You bite. You scream. You dig your nails in. Then do any of the moves I taught you. Or improvise with those moves. Then run. You run until you are in a safe place and don’t stop until you are.”

  His voice is low, raspy, and I absorb the sound, feeling tingly all over. I lean my head back on his chest, the move causing my chest to push out.

  “Charlotte,” he warns, his fingers tightening on my hip.

  I step away, turning to him. My cheeks are flaming. “Sorry.”

  When I look up, his eyes are burning with need. There’s a deep want, and it freezes me. I can’t move. Can’t find the words.

  I close my eyes, images of him taking me at the hotel running through my mind. I want that.

  My lids blink open, instantly meeting his gaze. His grows more intense, like he has read my thoughts, watched those images, and before I can say anything, he’s taking a long stride toward me. His hands palm my arse and I grab onto his shoulders as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him, and before my mind can start picking at things, or questioning anything, I lean down and cup his cheeks, pressing my lips to his.

  His taste is better than I remembered. I grind my hips against him, kissing him harder. Then we are moving. I don’t pull away to see where. I don’t care. All that matters is him. His touch. His lips.

  His calloused hand runs down my back as he bends, taking me with him. Pulling back, my breaths mingle with his.

  “Charlotte,” he moans, gripping my hips.

  We’re sitting on one of the benches, me straddling his thighs, and it feels so good. I lean down as I roll my hips along his hard dick. “This can be classed as cardio.”

  “Maybe we—”

  I lean back, unzipping the zipper that holds my sports bra together. My tits fall free and his jaw clenches, his smouldering gaze burning into me as the material falls to the floor behind me.

  I don’t have alcohol running through my system.

  I don’t have that courage, but I find myself staring down at him, and although I feel vulnerable, and out there, I’m not afraid to show him what I want. Every insecurity I have, each bit of shyness I possess, it’s gone with that one smouldering look. I trust him. Looking back, I don’t think it was ever the alcohol that gave me the confidence, it was him.

  “Touch me,” I shakily push out, unable to look away. There’s a stark need in my voice, one I haven’t heard before.

  He grabs the back of my neck, pulling me to him until our mouths meet. I kiss him back, my tongue sliding against his.

  His hand slides up my side, running over my ribs until he reaches between us, cupping my breast and squeezing. I moan, arching my chest into him.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  I was already hot before he touched me. Now I feel alive in a way I have only ever felt once before.

  And that was because of him too.

  I spread my thighs further apart and grind down, the friction causing electric currents to pulse through my nerve endings.

  “I’ve never done it in a gym before,” I tell him, my voice husky.

  He pulls back, his eyes darkening. “Well, we can’t have that,” he rasps.

  I pout, slowly shaking my head. “No, we really can’t.”

  He hoists me up by my waist before setting me down on my feet. Reaching for my leggings, he slides them down my legs. Fortunately, I’m barefoot, so all I have to do is step out of them. He looks up, his pupils dilating.

  “You amaze me.”

  The touch of his lips on my skin is smooth, yet the texture of his stubble is rough, adding to my arousal.

  He blinks up at me as he runs his tongue over my feverish skin, up to my belly button. I moan, reaching for his shoulders. He bends, running his tongue further down before running it through the seam of my sex.

  “Oh God,” I moan. “Do that again.”

  He does, this time flattening his tongue to press down hard on my clit. He sucks, licks and bites the inside of my thigh, driving me to the brink of insanity. All my emotions are clashing together, thrumming, beating, and with each touch, they spiral.

  His fingers slide through my wetness, using it as a lubricant as he pushes one inside of me. My fingers dig into the skin on his shoulder as my knees threaten to buckle.

  He keeps up with the assault, pumping his fingers in and out, and each time I come to the brink of wanting to climax, he pulls back, leaving me spinning out of control.

  It feels so good.

  Torturously good.

  He slides his fingers out of my sex, rubbing my wetness back and forth until the tip of his finger probes my arsehole. I grow tense, looking down at him.

  “Drew,” I whisper, unsure. This is one thing I know I can definitely say I haven’t done.

  I’m not even sure if I want it to be done.

  “You can say no,” he tells me. “I’ll always stop.”

  He pleads silently for me to trust him. He doesn’t need to, I do. Something must have flashed in my gaze because the next time he runs his fingers through my sex, then moves further back to probe my arsehole, he adds pressure.

  My head drops forward, my legs automatically spreading a bit wider. It’s a weird sensation. Not painful, not pleasurable. But I can’t deny I’m aroused.

  I grip his T-shirt, and understanding what I want, he pulls back, letting me lift his top over his head. Immediately, I swoon over the sight of his tattoos and strong shoulders.

  I reach out, my finger lightly running over his nipple ring. “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” he rasps, standing. I step back, his tall body towering over me. He tugs the tie loose on his joggers and pushes them down his legs before kicking them away. “I can’t wait anymore.”

  I slide my hands up his chest, marvelling at the phoenix bird tattoo and others before reaching his shoulders. I press my body flush against his, leaning up on my tiptoes. “Then don’t,” I whisper.

  He sits back down on the bench, reaching for my hips. “Straddle me,” he orders.

  I do as I’m told, climbing on top of him. I reach between us, grasping the girth of his cock, sliding my thumb over the tip. He growls, his fingers digging into my thighs.

  “Please tell me you have a box of condoms in that suitcase you carry around.”

  I pull back, my lips twisting together. “Um, actually, I don’t.”

  “So, you have handcuffs, lube, and a whip, but no condoms?”

  “Um, I’m sorry?”

  “Are you okay with me pulling out?”

  Flashes of my dad and uncles’ sex education lesson come back to me. I remember being traumatised, along with the other females in our family.

  If he says he’ll pull out, don’t fucking listen.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He lines himself up at my entrance before handing control over to me. I smile, sliding down his dick, inch by inch, taking in the wide girth. I feel stretched, feeling every ridge of his cock inside of me. It feels good. I moan, low, deep in my throat, my eyes closing as I savour every moment of him filling me. Not having a barrier between us… it heightens everything.

  We should have done this before.

  “Fuck,” he grits out, dropping his head onto my shoulder. “So fucking tight.”

  I’m hoping that’s a good thing.

  Rising, I then drop back down, clenching around him. He cups my breast, lifting a little before sucking my nipple into his mouth; sucking, licking, biting. I run my fingers through the thickness of his hair, tugging hard as he toys with my nipple. Waves of pleasure shoot to my clit. It pulses, aches, desperately seeking climax.

  “Oh God,” I cry.

  I grind harder, the sway of my hips causing him to go deeper each time. Tilting his head up, he captures my lips. It’s wet, frenzied, leaving all thoughts to scramble together. I don’t know which way is up or which way is down.

  That carnal need is building up inside of me.

  People were wrong about sex being sensual; intimate. I have experienced the opposite. It had been detached, cold, cruel. This… This is all me and Drew. What makes the act sensual is us. It’s our connection; a powerful magnetism pulling us together. It feeds the fire that burns between us.

  Everything we’re feeling isn’t because of the act, although it does help. It’s each other.

  “More,” I plead, feeling brazen.

  His eyes darken. “Stand,” he orders.

  I lift off him, whimpering when his cock slides out of my sex. His cock is wet with my arousal, and I lick my lips, turned on more than I ever have been.

  “Hold onto the bar,” he orders and I step forward, reaching for the bar on the treadmill.

  A moan slips free when he grips the globes of my arse in his hands before ever so gently running his hands up the curve of my back. Pressing down on my shoulders, he pushes me forward and I go, stretching the muscles in my arms.

  His hands stroke and caress as they run back down, the softness of his touch raising goose bumps on my skin. He only stops to once again squeeze the globes of my arse. It heightens the pleasure running through me.

  “This arse has driven me crazy all night,” he divulges as he presses against me. I moan at the feel of his cock sliding through my sex. “Do you know what you do to me?”

  “No,” I whisper, but I can only imagine it’s something close to what he does to me.

  “I’m about to show you.”

  His first thrust is cautious, gentle, and a moan of frustration bubbles out of me. His next thrust is harder, deeper, rocking me back and forth as he grips my hips punishingly. My tits swing from the force and I shudder in ecstasy.

  Feeling the tips of his fingers in my hair, I tense, but then I feel my bobble sliding out, freeing my hair from the loose bun I had pulled it up in.

  My core tightens the same time my knuckles bleed white around the bar. I want more. Need more.

  Each rock of my body, the sound of our skin slapping together, is going to be my undoing. My knees threaten to buckle and sensing that, Drew’s fingers tighten around my hip, whilst is other presses down on my lower back.

  His grunts have my pleasure spiking. They’re low, primal.

  “Harder,” I cry out, my chest rising and falling as I slam myself back to meet each thrust.

  His other hand slides off the bottom of my back, gripping my hip punishingly. He uses it as leverage, pummelling in and out of me with force that knocks the breath out of me. With each thrust there’s desperation and need, and I know he has been holding back.

  I can feel it building.

  The anticipation. The knowing of how good it’s going to feel, yet the sadness of knowing it never lasts.

  Our moans, whimpers and grunts mingle together. Each time I cry out, tightening around him, his cock pulses inside of me.

  Each time he slams inside of me, the deeper he feels. It’s ruthless, out of control, and I don’t want it to stop. He fills me to the hilt, causing my clit to pulse.

  My core is winding so tight, my skin clammy, and the tingling sensation is driving every nerve ending on fire.

  A glutaral cry slips through my lips, my legs locking as my lower half spasms with my orgasm. The shock of my orgasm has my back bowing, and has a cry of pleasure wrenching from my throat.

  For a few moments, all there is, is pure bliss. A moment where no sound or anything can penetrate.

  I float back down to earth just as Drew’s movements become unsteady. He thrusts once, twice, before he slides out, and the warmth of his cum spurts all over my arse and lower back. I moan, my pussy tingling in all the right places. I’m not sure if it’s because if feel dirty, naughty, but the action makes me want him again. And again.

  He leans over to the bench and grabs a towel to clean me up. Spent and lacking energy, I can do nothing but grip the bars tighter, too afraid that if I let go, my legs will give out on me. Exhaustion hits me as I try to catch my breath.

  “Come here,” he whispers, pulling me against his chest. He bends, kissing the crook of my neck before pulling back and turning me to face him. He locks his arms around me, and I look up, giggling with nervousness and happiness.

  Amusement lights his eyes as he cups my cheek, and leans down, pressing a kiss overflowing with passion to my lips.

  I sigh, pressing my body flush against his. He always manages to bring this side out of me. I have always been curious about sex. It had always intrigued me which is why romance is my favourite genre. The smuttier the better. But no one has evoked this feeling inside of me like he does. No one revs my engines like he does. And there has been no one in my entire life who gives me confidence the way he does. Not just with sex. Just being around him gives me a confidence boost. I never feel judged or mocked. He never gives me one of those ‘pity’ stares or the ones where someone’s looked at me like I’m a freak. If anything, he finds my quirks endearing.

  Yet, when the words form on my lips to ask what this is between us, I freeze.

  “That was—”

  “Go out with me tomorrow night,” he rasps, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  My eyes widen. “Do you mean like a date?”

  His studies my face. “Do you think you are ready for that?”

  My heart skips a beat, and I struggle to keep the smile off my face, so I don’t. I beam, leaning up on my toes.

  He arches an eyebrow, his arms tightening around me. “It’s a charity event to raise money for The Shelter. I wasn’t going to go this year, but I’d like it if you’d come with me. As a date. But not if you aren’t ready.”

  I melt in his arms. “Of course, I’d love to go out with you,” I tell him.

  He bends down, meeting me halfway, his kiss bruising, punishing, yet filled with so much passion my toes curl.

  I pull back, grinning like a fool.