Read Online Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) by Anne Conley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Conley
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wasn’t a normal woman, so he’d have to be careful.
When he came out of the bathroom—dressed in clean boxers, ready for bed—he stopped short at the sight in front of him.
Charlie’s shorts were threadbare and see-through, revealing interesting shadows he couldn’t dwell on and remain a gentleman. And the tank top was equally threadbare, showing off a pair of breasts that would rival a Playboy model. The rosy circles around her erect nipples made his mouth dry. Swallowing thickly, he forced his eyes up to her face, where she looked at him, completely unaware of the effect she was having on his body. She couldn’t be totally unaware—he had a boner that could hammer nails right now—but her eyes were glued to the tattoo on his chest.
The fear he’d seen earlier was nearly gone, replaced by a guarded expression. Her aqua eyes were wide, deep pools that reminded him of The Blue Lagoon , his favorite movie as a kid. Her wide luscious mouth was slightly open, and he watched as her little pink tongue snaked out and licked her lips. Christ.
Walking over to his bed to get his erection under the covers, he asked, “All better?” He was suddenly unsure of insisting on the motel room. He wasn’t sure he could remain a gentleman and sleep in the same room with the blonde siren three feet away from him.
“Um…yeah. I’m sorry. I just hate motel rooms.” She licked her lips again before settling down on her bed, wrapping herself in the blanket she’d brought, and hiding that amazing body from Les’s view. He exhaled a relieved breath.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The desire in her eyes died out, replaced once again by her typical guarded shadows. Les hoped she would tell him sometime. The fear he’d seen had nearly knocked him to his knees, and he wanted to erase it so badly it scared him.
She reached over and turned off the lamp by her bed, effectively ending the conversation. Les closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but images of her body plagued him. Her legs were amazing: long and toned. She wasn’t a muscular woman, but she was strong. Her thighs were lush and the skin on them smooth; he couldn’t stop imagining them in various poses, around his waist, his face buried between them. The curve of the back of her thighs brought to mind images of the muscles under the porcelain skin trembling with release.
Shit.
He’d almost gotten the images banished when he heard a weak whimper from the other bed. One eye squinting open, he listened carefully. Another one. Then a moan. He raised his head to see her turn over, fitfully in her bed. Another moan.
“No…” It was a soft whisper, but it filled the room with a sorrow that broke Les’s heart. Charlie was having a bad dream, and he didn’t know what to do. They were friends, and friends comforted each other, didn’t they? But her boundaries were so unclear. She’d only touched him in times of dire stress, like when she’d nearly had a breakdown in the motel room. And he’d hugged her after his accident. But the urge to snuggle behind her and envelope her in his comforting embrace was so strong, he twitched with the need. The only problem, would he be able to stop at just comfort? He sat up in bed and watched her, waiting for divine inspiration.
Should he go to her? Or was this normal? If he went to her for comfort, would she push him away even more? He felt like he’d made some progress with her tonight and didn’t want to mess it up.
He watched her writhe on her sheets, tossing and turning through the throws of some nightmare, occasionally groaning out a hushed “no.” Nausea roiled in his gut at the idea that Charlie had gone through something so devastating in a motel room, that just being in one brought back memories that gave her nightmares.
He decided as long as she wasn’t screaming or crying, he would let her be. If tears started tracking down her cheeks, he wouldn’t be able to stay out of her bed.
So
When he came out of the bathroom—dressed in clean boxers, ready for bed—he stopped short at the sight in front of him.
Charlie’s shorts were threadbare and see-through, revealing interesting shadows he couldn’t dwell on and remain a gentleman. And the tank top was equally threadbare, showing off a pair of breasts that would rival a Playboy model. The rosy circles around her erect nipples made his mouth dry. Swallowing thickly, he forced his eyes up to her face, where she looked at him, completely unaware of the effect she was having on his body. She couldn’t be totally unaware—he had a boner that could hammer nails right now—but her eyes were glued to the tattoo on his chest.
The fear he’d seen earlier was nearly gone, replaced by a guarded expression. Her aqua eyes were wide, deep pools that reminded him of The Blue Lagoon , his favorite movie as a kid. Her wide luscious mouth was slightly open, and he watched as her little pink tongue snaked out and licked her lips. Christ.
Walking over to his bed to get his erection under the covers, he asked, “All better?” He was suddenly unsure of insisting on the motel room. He wasn’t sure he could remain a gentleman and sleep in the same room with the blonde siren three feet away from him.
“Um…yeah. I’m sorry. I just hate motel rooms.” She licked her lips again before settling down on her bed, wrapping herself in the blanket she’d brought, and hiding that amazing body from Les’s view. He exhaled a relieved breath.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The desire in her eyes died out, replaced once again by her typical guarded shadows. Les hoped she would tell him sometime. The fear he’d seen had nearly knocked him to his knees, and he wanted to erase it so badly it scared him.
She reached over and turned off the lamp by her bed, effectively ending the conversation. Les closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but images of her body plagued him. Her legs were amazing: long and toned. She wasn’t a muscular woman, but she was strong. Her thighs were lush and the skin on them smooth; he couldn’t stop imagining them in various poses, around his waist, his face buried between them. The curve of the back of her thighs brought to mind images of the muscles under the porcelain skin trembling with release.
Shit.
He’d almost gotten the images banished when he heard a weak whimper from the other bed. One eye squinting open, he listened carefully. Another one. Then a moan. He raised his head to see her turn over, fitfully in her bed. Another moan.
“No…” It was a soft whisper, but it filled the room with a sorrow that broke Les’s heart. Charlie was having a bad dream, and he didn’t know what to do. They were friends, and friends comforted each other, didn’t they? But her boundaries were so unclear. She’d only touched him in times of dire stress, like when she’d nearly had a breakdown in the motel room. And he’d hugged her after his accident. But the urge to snuggle behind her and envelope her in his comforting embrace was so strong, he twitched with the need. The only problem, would he be able to stop at just comfort? He sat up in bed and watched her, waiting for divine inspiration.
Should he go to her? Or was this normal? If he went to her for comfort, would she push him away even more? He felt like he’d made some progress with her tonight and didn’t want to mess it up.
He watched her writhe on her sheets, tossing and turning through the throws of some nightmare, occasionally groaning out a hushed “no.” Nausea roiled in his gut at the idea that Charlie had gone through something so devastating in a motel room, that just being in one brought back memories that gave her nightmares.
He decided as long as she wasn’t screaming or crying, he would let her be. If tears started tracking down her cheeks, he wouldn’t be able to stay out of her bed.
So
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