The Charm Offensive(65)
Dev listens and says nothing, and never stops playing with Charlie’s hair. The sharing is even scarier than the sex because it’s another barrier, another line he never thought he’d be able to cross with someone. It’s the type of intimacy he’s avoided the most strictly, convinced he could never trust anyone with these parts of himself. Dev accepts every part of him like it’s nothing and everything. “I think I really, really like you,” Charlie tells Dev’s sternum.
The confession hangs between them for a second. “Two reallys?” Dev finally says, and Charlie can hear the smile in his voice. “And you haven’t even seen what I can do with my mouth yet?”
Charlie laughs and Dev flips them over so it’s Charlie with his back against the mattress and Dev looking down at him. Dev isn’t smiling anymore. Charlie stops laughing. Dev kisses his collarbone, bites at his nipples, licks the vertical line down the center of his abdomen like he did that night in New Orleans when Charlie stopped things from going any further.
Dev goes further, kissing the crease of his hip, the inside of his thigh until Charlie is hard again. “Please,” Dev’s voice strains, “can I?”
Charlie arches his hips in consent, too consumed with feeling to speak, and when Dev licks him again, he’s not sure if he should laugh or swear or scream, so he maybe does all three. He doesn’t censor himself at all, says exactly what he’s thinking and feeling, and watches the way his words make Dev lose all restraint.
Charlie is a mess, but so is Dev, and he can’t believe they found each other on this ridiculous show about fairy-tale love.
* * *
“So…” She smirks over her mug of coffee. “How was it?”
“Shush,” he hisses. His eyes dart to Jules’s closed bedroom door. “Don’t be gross, Parisa.”
“I’m not being gross. I’m being supportive.” Parisa props a hip against the counter and reaches for a muffin. “I tell you about all my hookups.”
“I never asked you to be so forthcoming and would actually prefer you stop.”
Parisa has the decency to at least lower her voice. “I’m not asking for all the gory details here. Just—did you have sex?”
He sips his tea and tries not to blush at the memory. “I mean, we, um—but not that.”
Parisa punches his arm. “Oh my God, Charles, work my pussy out.”
He chokes on his lemon ginger. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry. You’re not quite there yet.” She dials it back. “I just mean I’m proud of you. I’m sure it took a lot of courage to let yourself be vulnerable like that with someone.”
Charlie studies her across the kitchen and thinks about what Dev said last night, about already seeing him. He realizes Parisa already sees him, too. “Thank you.”
“So why didn’t you have penetrative sex? Do you need me to draw you a diagram of where things go, or—?”
“I seriously hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I’m sending you home now.”
“But then who will help coordinate your special surprise for your boyfr—Good morning!”
Charlie is kicking Parisa’s shin when Dev walks into the kitchen. Somehow, just the sight of him in black skinny jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower, is enough to send a shiver across Charlie’s bare arms. He can almost feel Dev’s hands on his hipbones, keeping him pinned to the bed as he—
Charlie clears his throat. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Dev grumbles as he moves toward the French press without making eye contact.
Parisa just can’t help herself. “Sleep well, Dev?”
He startles as he attempts to pour the coffee. He darts his eyes between Parisa’s smug grin and Charlie’s telling blush. “Slept okay, thanks.”
Parisa rolls her eyes, clearly disappointed by her inability to fluster Dev. “Fine. I’ll just go see if Jules is ready.”
As soon as she’s gone, Dev steps closer. “So, she knows—”
“Everything,” Charlie blurts, biting his bottom lip. “She knows everything. I’m sorry.”
Dev scrubs a hand across his freshly shaved face. “And she doesn’t care?”
“No,” Charlie says. “She doesn’t think it’s a big deal.”
A sullen look flashes across Dev’s face, and Charlie hears what he said. “Not like that.” He reaches out for Dev’s waist, pulls them together. “Parisa just wants me to be happy.”
Charlie kisses Dev, tastes the first sip of morning coffee on his tongue. Dev deepens it, runs his fingers through Charlie’s hair, until Charlie’s on his tiptoes, and they’re pressed against the hotel refrigerator, and Charlie is two seconds away from saying fuck it to today’s Group Quest and the six women and this entire show because all he wants is to drag Dev back to their bed and get lost in his perfect body, and he didn’t know, had no idea, it was possible to feel this way about another person.
When Dev finally releases his mouth, Charlie sighs. “You make me so fucking happy.”
* * *
Three months ago, when he and Parisa agreed to do the show, the idea of getting fake-engaged to someone at the end of the process, as awkward as it sounded, didn’t really matter. He knew he would have to appear on daytime talk shows with some woman who was only in it for the fame. They’d have to be photographed together, seen in public together on dates. He knew there would be a mandatory six-month engagement after the show ended, before they were allowed to end things amicably, but the uncomfortable inconvenience of it seemed like a fair trade for getting his old life back. It wasn’t like he ever thought a real relationship was in his future.