Page 29 of Resurgent
Chapter Eight
Liam
I dream of Charlotte again. Her scent entrances me like a drug, and her body is soft and yielding under me. I hover over her, so close we’re sharing the same breath, our fingers entwined over her head as I slowly move in and out of her. Our eyes lock and in that moment, I know—I know—that she is the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. She is a galaxy of stars, constellations yet to be discovered, but I know she is my universe.
“What?” she says, her voice husky. I shake my head, unable to tell her what I’m thinking. It sounds crazy.
I thrust harder and she gasps, her fingers gripping mine. “I’m gonna come,” she cries.
“No, baby. Not yet. I don’t want it to end. Give me more.”
I wake with a start, disoriented for a moment. There’s a warm, naked, decidedly curvy female body next to mine, familiar and yet…not. Charlotte’s chestnut brown hair is fanned over my chest, her long lashes resting against the gentle curve of her cheek like a butterfly perched on a peach. She wasn’t a dream this time. She’s real, and curled sweetly into my body with one long, slim leg thrown over mine. Last night comes rushing back to me in a flood of memories.
God, she’d been exquisite. She’d been everything I’d dreamed of and more. I couldn’t imagine in real life she’d really be that tight, that responsive, that…perfect. But she was. The only difference was how we’d made love. In my dreams, we always make love slowly and passionately, almost reverently. In real life, she’d wanted it hard and dirty and I’d been happy to oblige her.
Just as I’d suspected, under that cool, reserved exterior is a wild woman. Despite her need for control—or maybe because of it—she’d liked the way I’d taken control, the words I’d whispered in her ear as I claimed her body. She’d met me kiss for kiss and stroke for stroke.
I should have said no when she took off her bikini top and told me she’d changed her mind about no-strings-attached sex, but I may as well have tried to stop the sun from rising. She’s haunted my dreams too many times for me to turn her down. Besides, when she looks at me with those big brown eyes, I’m ready to give her the fucking sun, the moon, and throw in some stars for good measure. Making love to her when she asked was a no-brainer.
However, sheismy little sister’s best friend, and I don’t want to hurt her. I make it a point to never get so attached to a woman that she expects things I can’t deliver. Hell, in my current situation, I can’t even promise dinner and a movie. Yet she was adamant she didn’t want any sort of relationship, and I actually believe her. I’ve never seen a woman as commitment phobic in my life.
For some reason, her attitude annoys me. What the fuck is up with that? What we have—an agreement for only the here and now—is perfect. Contrary to my dream, she’s not the love of my life. I barely even know her, not really, and with the trouble I’m in, I have no future with anyone.
She stirs next to me, her eyes opening.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
“Weren’t you supposed to sleep in the hammock last night?” she murmurs with a sleepy smile. I grin. I’ve never been with a girl with as smart a mouth as Charlotte has. It’s intoxicating as fuck.
“That deal was contingent on you feeling nothing with me and, based on the way you begged me last night, you felt plenty.”
She blushes and rolls away from me. “I did not beg.”
I grab her by the hip and turn her back so she’s facing me. “Really?”
“Really.”
I slide my middle finger between her folds and slowly massage her G-spot. She gasps. “Need a replay?”
“I—um—aah!” Her protests turn to pleasurable moans as I play with her body, taking advantage of her still sleepy, relaxed mood to bring her to a quick and delicious orgasm. This morning our lovemaking is slower, softer, and less intense than last night, but there’s still that primal undercurrent—that almost animalistic need to possess each other—and while I make damn sure she begs again, this time, when her soft hand closes around my cock, so do I.
We drift back to sleep with her in my arms, her cheek resting on my chest. I wake up to her thrashing around on the bed, muttering “no” over and over again with such terror in her voice, it makes me want to slay her dragons. I gently shake her. “Charlotte. Wake up, baby. It’s just a dream.” Her brown eyes fly open, filled with fear. I pull her to my chest, stroking her hair as I murmur, “Shh. You’re safe.” After a few minutes, her body relaxes next to mine.
“I—sorry. Nightmare.”
“You want to talk about it?” I don’t stop stroking her hair.
“No. I just keep seeing the knife. Feeling the point of it pressed against my neck when the cartel took me…” She trails off. Takes a deep breath. Then, with her voice firmly back under control, “I’m fine.”
Obviously, she’s not, but nothing I can say will take away the memories that haunt her.
The sun is streaming in through the open windows. “Let’s have some breakfast and hit the beach. I promised to teach you how to surf.”
“Really?” She sits up, pushing her long brown hair off her face, her nightmare forgotten for the moment. She frowns. “Is it safe? You seemed a little worried yesterday about making sure we looked like newlyweds.”
“Maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”
“Oh.” There’s a secret little smile on her face, and I realize making Charlotte smile is quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes.
