I’d take it…while it lasted.
Gathering her more fully into my arms, I snagged her clothing, shoes, purse, everything, and carried her and all of her stuff to my bunk. Slid her in. Covered her with my blankets, hesitated, and then said fuck it. I climbed in with her, and lay next to her, and knew we would wake up outside of Denver.
7
Charlie
Iwoke up feeling…okay, actually. I was clinging to the side of a bed, my eyes firmly closed.
A little woozy, a bit of a headache, but considering how drunk I’d been, I was not too bad. I had slammed several bottles of water, and I think there’d been some painkillers at some point. I’d had some food. God, delicious food. Such good food. That guac, that sandwich? So good.
Then, still with my eyes closed and no real comprehension of where I even was, I remembered the rest of what had happened.
Crow.
Kissing him.
Or, him kissing me, and then suddenly needing to kiss him like I needed my next breath. Needing him to touch me, to do things to me. And good god did he ever. He did things to me.
Dirty, delightful things.
I squirmed, remembering the scratch of his stubble on my thighs, and Lexie telling me exactly how good that would feel, and jeepers criminy, was she ever right. The feel of his tongue, his mouth, his lips all over my sensitive sex, driving me wild. His hands cupping my ass, holding me up like I weighed nothing at all.
But the way he looked at me.
That wasit. That was everything.
No man had ever looked at me like that and it was more than I could handle.
The way he’d looked at me was…too much. Too intense, too wild. Too hot and hungry and primal. He wanted to do things to me.
And I wanted that.
I wanted to be overwhelmed.
Taken. Used. Needed.
Owned.
Appreciated.
Fuck, I must be crazy. Utterly crazy.
I had just met the man. Literally. Yesterday. I had let a man put his mouth on my vagina—a man I had met only hours before.
God, what was wrong with me?
Where was I, anyway?
I became aware of a gentle movement, a bump, and a sway.
I tried moving. Testing my body. I opened my eyes.
It was then that I realized I was naked, and in an unfamiliar bed.
I was, like, totally naked. Had he taken off my shirt last night? I remembered, with intense vividness, his hands on my breasts, his mouth on my nipples, his tongue slathering over them, making them stand up into diamond-hard points of sensitivity, but had he actually taken my shirt off? I didn’t think so. I thought he’d just pushed it up. Now, I do, for sure, remember him taking my leggings off, but only on one side. But they were gone. Where? I would have to find them later.
I was aware then of something else—other sounds and movements.
