Page 69 of Floored (Frenched 3)
At my house, Charlie pulled up in my driveway, close to the back door. When I went to get out, he put a hand on my leg. “Just a minute.” He put the car in park but left it running.
“Don’t you want to come in?”
“I do, but—” He hesitated, his mouth twisting into a frown.
Oh Jesus. He’s still worried I want to trap him. Suddenly I was annoyed. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Charlie,” I said irritably. “Just stay over. The roads are horrible. You can sleep in the damn guest room. The sheets are clean.”
His expression softened into an amused smile. “Of course they are.”
I glared at him.
“But if I stay over, I want to sleep with you.”
Surprise stole my voice for a moment. “You do?”
“Yes.”
“What about the general no sleepover policy?” I tilted my head. “Aren’t you worried I’ll get the wrong message?”
He tapped my nose. “God, you’re a pain in the ass. Do you remember every word I say?”
“Yes, when it’s that outrageously arrogant.”
“Well, forget what I said about that. It doesn’t apply to you. You’re different.”
“How so?” I held my breath.
“I want to stay the night with you.”
I blinked. That was it? That’s all I got? “Thank you. That’s very flattering. And so illuminating as to your feelings.”
Charlie groaned. “Look, I’m trying to do the right thing here, and it’s fucking hard, because I don’t know what the right thing is.”
“What’s so hard about this, Charlie? Do you like me? Check yes or no!”
“Yes!” he snapped, “but it’s not that simple.”
I steadied myself with a deep breath. “It could be, if you’d let it. I like you too, Charlie. You’re confusing the hell out of me right now, and I’m cold and tired and I want to go inside, but I like you.”
He stared out the side window for a moment before turning to me again. “I hate thinking about you being cold, you know that? All night long, when I’m not with you, I wonder if you’re warm enough and wish I was there to hold yo
u.”
My jaw dropped. “Really? That’s so sweet.”
“Yes. You’re on my mind all the fucking time, and it’s not even all sexual.”
I laughed. “That’s…kind of sweet.” But I liked that he had sexual thoughts about me too. Lord knows I had them about him.
“Of course, a lot of my thoughts about you are sexual, but I also want to do things for you—things like lay your studio floor or hang shades in your house or make fires in the fireplace or buy you ice skates. I want to take you places and show you things and talk to you and ask you questions and argue with you. I want to tease you about the way you lied about being Homecoming Queen and made up a boyfriend named Tad Pitt and don’t like your food to touch and own a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. I imagine your body under your clothes and I want to cover it with mine, protect you from everything. I think about the guy who broke into your house and I want to fucking kill.” He took a breath. “But then I feel like what you need protecting from is me. I’m the one who could hurt you.” Turning his focus straight ahead, he frowned. “God, I’m horrible at this.”
“You’re not,” I said, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his face toward me again. “Not at all. This thing with us…it’s hard for me too. I promised myself I wouldn’t get carried away just because the sex was good, and now I find myself wanting more of you. But I don’t want you to think I’m trying to trap you or whatever. I don’t want to be just another girl who fell for you because you’re good in bed.”
“You’re not. I want to give you more.” He took my hand from his cheek and kissed my palm. “I do. I just need to go slow. I need time. Is that OK?”
“Of course it is. I need time, too, Charlie.” Again, I thought about what Mia and Coco said. “It’s not easy for me to trust people, and in the past I’ve made some choices based on fear, I think. I’ve played it safe so I wouldn’t get hurt.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He laced our fingers together.
