“I have come to the conclusion that in one night you have made me a shameless woman, Mr. Emerson. The things you did… I don’t expect many ladies get tended to quite so thoroughly.”
Charlie knew he wouldn’t answer her teasing—his preferred form of communication nonverbal—yet loved watching his throat bob as he swallowed. Glancing to the swelling of his impressive, growing manhood trapped by his trousers, she licked her bottom lip.
He gave out a groan like a tied-up dog, eyeballing her like a bone beyond his tether.
Voice innocent but her eyes staring straight at the tent in his trousers, she hummed, “What you got there?”
“You keep talkin’ like that and lookin’ like you are,” he growled, unwilling to be daunted by one, wet, teasing woman. “And you’re gonna end up in some trouble.”
Charlie grinned as she stood, water running down her pinkened skin. “I quite like your brand of trouble.”
He knew he should let her body heal, but swept her into his arms like a goddamn maniac. She squealed and giggled as he carried her to the bed, tossing her down and already hovering to embrace her when she bounced.
He wanted to touch, to explore in the light, and spoil her with languid caresses, his hands and cock far gentler than the demon who’d thrashed between her thighs in the dark.
Taking his time, he saw her shudder and stretch, heard the breathy cries she’d never made for any man before him. He left the imprint of his rapture flooding inside her, shooting so deep his mark might never leave.
Thinking he could not be more content; the blissful moment was stolen right out from under him.
Charlie nestled into the side of his body, tracing the muscles of his torso while she hummed, “I have somewhere I got to go tonight—a four or five day trip if I hurry.”
He tensed under her fingers, unwilling to let her out of his sight. “Where?”
Leaning up, she put her chin on his chest. Her expression said it all, the golden girl was debating on whether she could trust him.
Words had never been his stron
g suit. He knew if he opened his mouth, he might muck it up. So, he laid there silent, tortured, and waited for her to work it out on her own.
“I, uh—” She looked away, then whispered, “I need to visit my mother.”
“Is that where you been going when you sneak out of town?” Palming her cheek, Matthew turned her head so he might get a good long look at those eyes. “Didn’t you tell Beaumont she passed on?”
“I implied as much.” Guilt sat in the way she nibbled her lower lip, all her ease dried up. “Not a soul knows where she is. It’s safer that way. If someone went after her because of me…”
“I understand.”
“I should be back by Friday, latest, if I leave tonight.”
Stroking her back, trying to ease her back down into the comfort he was eager to share, Matthew said the wrong thing. “You want me to go with you?”
“No!” She hid her face against his chest, as if trying to hide the snap in her rejection with a simple kiss to his skin. “You have your own business to attend to and… it would be uncomfortable for you.”
Matthew was not a squeamish man. Nor was he afraid of the golden girl’s temper. “Why?”
Fingers scratched lightly over his chest hair, she refused to meet his eye. “You ever seen a deranged person?”
“No.” He wanted her to continue, to explain.
Forehead back to his chest, Charlie sighed. “You know what I am and where I come from. But knowing and seeing are two different things.”
It was a low spoken statement, not a question. “And you think it’ll frighten me off.”
“I’d like to think you’re a better man than that.” She put her ear over his heart. Settling herself close and squeezing just a little too hard. “I just… I’m not…”
He knew what she was unable to say.
Running a hand through her mussed hair, Matthew said, “I’ll pick you up at Gap Mills Station when your train comes in.”