Where One Goes(57)

“Charlotte,” he whispers in between panting breaths, and my core clenches.

His hand leaves my breast and slides down my body, his fingers digging into my flesh as they tease at the waist of the boxer shorts. The fog of my lust begins to taper off as so many brutal truths bombard me all at once. For one, where is Ike? I completely forgot he was here when this all started. And having sex with George while Ike watched would be so wrong on so many levels, but even with that aside—I’m a virgin. And this has moved super-fast. And George is barely recovering from an addiction problem.

“George,” I moan in an attempt to slow him, but it only seems to encourage him more as he tugs at the waist of the boxers and begins slipping them down my hips.

“God, Charlotte, you’re so beautiful,” he purrs as he slips the boxer shorts down my thighs. “I want you so f*cking bad.”

I want him just as badly. I’m the worst person in the world, but I do. How could I do this to Ike?

“George, we have to stop,” I finally squeak out, and he freezes just as he pulls the boxer shorts down to my ankles. His eyes are wide with regret and embarrassment.

Pulling away as if I’m on fire, he apologizes, “I’m sorry, I thought you . . . never mind. I’m an *. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not that, George, I do want you. Badly,” I emphasize as I reach down and pull the shorts back up. Rolling over and moving to my knees in front of him, I let my gaze flicker to his rather sizable erection under his boxers. I want so badly to touch it; to run my hand down his hard length and feel what I do to him. “It’s just, this is moving really fast and . . .”

“I know. I’m an addict loser,” he says, morosely, and moves to climb off the bed.

“No!” I yell, and he stalls. “I’m a virgin, George,” I admit before swallowing past the lump in my throat. His brows rise to his hairline.

“Really?” he questions in disbelief. I’m not sure if he doesn’t believe me, or if he’s just shocked.

“Really,” I reply, waiting to read him further before deciding how to proceed. Silence hangs between us and heat begins to crawl up my neck and to my cheeks. Does he think I’m some kind of leper because I haven’t lost it yet? With a sideways smirk, I add, “I just thought maybe you should know.”

“How . . . just, how? You’re so . . . everything,” he mumbles, I think more to himself than to me. My heart expands five times its size, making my chest feel tight. Everything. He thinks I’m everything.

“I think you’re amazing, too,” I tell him, my gut twisting as I once again remember this man is falling in love with me and knows nothing real about me. At least not the most relevant truths.

His dark gaze meets mine just before he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “I have no idea why you have such a high opinion of me, but I swear I want to be worthy of that opinion, and I want to be worthy of you, Charlotte.” Swallowing hard, his gaze drops. “The man you met and have known, that’s not me. Honestly, I know this is going to make me sound even more like an addict, but I don’t want the drugs. I was just so lost, and I just wanted to be numb for a long time; not feel anything. But now, I want to feel . . . at least the good stuff. I want to feel things with you.”

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I open my mouth to respond when there’s a knock at the door. “You expecting someone?” I ask.

“No,” he replies and stands and searches for a T-shirt to pull on, but I climb off the bed and stop him.

“I’ll get it. I like you shirtless.” I wink as I pass by him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He smirks as he pulls me back and kisses me tenderly. My body curves to his as his fingers gently thread through my hair. When he pulls away, he peers into my eyes and says, “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I want to be with you. I know I have to prove myself to you first, but I will. I promise.” Then he kisses me again as knocks hammer the front door, beckoning us.

As I make my way to the door, I commit to telling George the truth tonight. I have to. I can’t keep this inside anymore. I only pray he doesn’t hate me after he finds out the truth. But even I know, deep down, initially he won’t take it well, and I need to be prepared for that. Maybe I should ask Sniper to be present.

The person at the door pounds harder this time and my brows furrow. “Hold your damn horses. I’m coming!” I shout just before whipping the door open. Only moments before, I had been walking on cloud nine, albeit a cloud riddled with doubt and uncertainty, but I was still swimming in the after effects of George’s proclamation that he wants to be with me. I want to be with him, too. Now my heart has dropped into the deepest, darkest part of my stomach as a pair of familiar gray eyes stare back at me.

“Charlotte Anne,” he says, with an obvious tone of frustration.

Licking my dry lips and knotting my hands together in front of me to hide my nerves, I reply, “Daddy.”





The moment George pulled her away from the fridge and placed her on the counter, I morphed outside. This is the purest form of torture; to watch the woman I love with another man. It’s not either of their faults, which makes it all the worse. I’m pushing her to George and because of that, she’s fallen for both of us. This isn’t fair to any of us; not her, not me, and not George, even though he has no idea this f*cked up love triangle exists.