Seasons of Sorrow (23 page)

Greg groaned into her mouth as she gently raked her nails across his abdomen and chest. His arms were wrapped around her, both of his hands buried in the short hair at her nape. As she moved against him, lifting his shirt higher as her hands moved up his torso, Greg cupped her bottom in his big hands and pulled her hips tighter to his.

Charlotte gasped the juncture of her thighs met the hard length of his erection. A wave of heat broke over her skin, running down from her scalp to the soles of her feet. She squirmed at the sensation.

She yanked at his shirt and until he lifted his arms so she could pull it over his head. With his upper body exposed, Charlotte’s hands wandered over his skin. One of his hands snaked into the draped neckline of her shirt and palmed her breast over the camisole she wore. When his thumb brushed over her nipple, she dug her nails into his shoulders because she felt each motion of his thumb on her breast all the way to her clitoris.

Charlotte whimpered into Greg’s mouth. When the sound left her throat, Greg stiffened, his thumb stopping its hypnotic movement on her nipple. She mewled again, wanting him to keep going, to strip her bare, and make the ache between her thighs stop. He grasped her wrists, keeping her hands at his shoulders.

Slowly, Greg pushed her back so that she was no longer writhing against him but sitting on his knees. Charlotte’s eyes opened, her chest heaving. He was staring at her, his eyes the color of mercury and his jaw tight.

“God, Charlotte. You look incredible,” he said hoarsely.

“Why did you stop?” she asked. The ache between her thighs became a deep throb. She needed something to assuage it.

“I didn’t mean things to go so far. I just wanted to kiss you and hold you for a while.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Seriously?” she asked incredulously.

He gave a short laugh. “Okay, so I would like to do a lot more, but I don’t want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you’d regret later.”

Charlotte couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Okay, Gregory Swift, I know you’re a good guy, but you’re verging on creepy.”

Greg smiled slightly, then his expression grew serious. “I’ve been waiting a long time for my shot, Char. I’m not going to fuck it up. I don’t ever want you to regret a single thing between us.”

Tears filled Charlotte’s eyes. He kissed her lips lightly and cradled her against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder, pushing her face into the crook of his neck. When the urge to cry passed, she lifted her head and met his eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For knowing what I need before I do,” she answered.

He grinned. “Glad to be of service.”

She sat up and then climbed off his lap. “Now, please put your shirt back on. It’s kind of hard for me to control myself around you when you’re half naked.”

Greg chuckled, but did as she asked.

“Do you want another beer or a glass of wine?”

He rose from the couch. “I’ll take a beer.”

Charlotte walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer for Greg. After she popped the top and handed it to him, she poured a glass of water for herself and drained it. Then she dug a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and filled the same glass half full.

Still feeling slightly tipsy from the three gin and tonics she drank earlier, Charlotte sipped her wine and went back into the living room so she could stretch out on the couch. Greg came over and lifted her feet. After he sat down, he placed them in his lap and started to unzip her boots.

Struggling to ignore the flare of heat she felt at the idea of him removing any item of her clothing, Charlotte drank more of her wine before she sat the glass on her coffee table.

“Can I ask you something?”

Greg removed her first boot and dropped it on the floor by the sofa. “Sure.” His hand cupped her foot, his thumb digging into the arch and running up to the ball of her foot.

Charlotte swallowed a moan and tried to focus on her question.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt back in college?” she asked.

“Didn’t we discuss this before?” he asked.

Charlotte just stared at him with level eyes. “You never answered me then, not really.”

Greg didn’t answer right away, only unzipped her other boot, pulled it off, and gave her left foot the same treatment as the right. This time he cupped both hands around her foot and began massaging.

Sensing that he was trying to choose his words carefully, Charlotte lay on the couch silently, allowing him to massage her feet. It wasn’t lost on her that, even though he won, Greg was giving her the foot massage she wanted if she had been the winner of their bet.

“It’s difficult to explain,” he began. “I had never met anyone like you before, Charlotte. You were sweet, sincere, quiet, and you had no idea how beautiful you were.” He drank from his bottle. “At first I thought it was all an act, which is why I took Brandy out first. I figured she was the honest one. It wasn’t long until I realized that you weren’t putting on a show, trying to snag a rich husband. Brandy saw that I was attracted to you and encouraged me to ask you out. Unfortunately, every time I did, you blew me off or thought I was asking if you
and
Brandy wanted to go out.”

Charlotte blinked at him. “No, I didn’t,” she argued.

He merely raised an eyebrow at her.

She sighed and tried to pull her foot out of his hands, but he held fast and kept using his thumbs on the ball of her foot. It felt heavenly, so she settled down and settled for crossing her arms over her chest.

“Give me one example,” she challenged.

“Okay, junior year, before you met Derek, I asked you if you wanted to go to the Alanis Morissette concert with me. The three of us ended up going because you wanted to invite Brandy.”

“I thought you asked if Brandy and I both would like to go,” she said.

Greg shook his head. “No, I asked if
you
wanted to go. You assumed Brandy was invited.”

Charlotte felt heat crawl up her face. “Is that all?” she asked.

“No. I asked you to dinner at least once a month the first two months we were hanging out. You always said you were busy or brought Brandy or another of your friends with you,” he said.

She knifed into a sitting position. “Well, dammit, I thought you and Brandy were together for a while. Even after she told me you guys were just friends, the two of you spent so much time together that I thought she was in denial or you were trying to keep her at arm’s length.”

Charlotte flopped back down on her back, throwing her arm over her eyes. “I can’t believe I was so oblivious.” She heard Greg chuckle and peeked out from under her arm at him. “What?” she asked defensively.

Still grinning and rubbing her feet, Greg said, “You’re cute when your drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

He shook his head. “Okay, you may not be drunk, but you are definitely tipsier than I’ve ever seen you.” He laughed. “It’s adorable. You definitely speak your mind more freely after a few drinks.”

“True,” Charlotte said. Then she yawned hugely.

“And there’s my cue,” Greg joked. “You need to get some sleep.”

She didn’t argue. Their conversation about the past was making her question what other things she may have missed over the last ten years. She sat up and swung her feet to the floor. Greg rose from the couch and headed to the front door. Charlotte followed.

He opened the door and turned back to face her. “Come here.”

Charlotte knew what he wanted and moved closer. His arm came out and pulled her body flush to his, with her up on her toes. Greg leaned down and gave her a short but thorough kiss. When he released her, her entire body hummed. She just managed to resist making a smart remark about needing to take a cold shower. She had definitely had too much to drink. Her mouth was like a runaway train.

“Good night, Charlie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said.

“Night,” she murmured.

“Lock the door behind me,” he commanded.

She nodded and shut the door behind him as he left. He waited on the porch until she flipped the locks, then he strode down the sidewalk to his truck, climbed in, and drove away. Charlotte watched from the window.

As soon as his truck was out of sight, Charlotte grabbed her glass and his bottle and took them into the kitchen. She checked the back door and garage door to be sure they were locked and then she turned out all the lights and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

She paused outside Adam’s room, raising a hand to touch the wooden letters that spelled his name. The pain was still present in her heart, but it didn’t consume her world as it once had. She was functioning, living, breathing, but she was missing a fundamental piece of herself and it would never grow back.

With a sigh, she walked into her bedroom and started getting ready for bed. She had errands to run the next day and she needed to get some sleep. After she changed into her pajamas, washed her face, and brushed her teeth, Charlotte settled into the bed.

Not for the first time in the last few weeks, she struggled to settle and go to sleep. Since Greg kissed her a few weeks ago, she was more aware than ever before that she was alone in her big bed, and that she didn’t’ want to be. Her body had reawakened and she wanted to be touched. But that wasn’t all that she wanted. Charlotte missed being held, missed having another person beside her, holding her close.

She lay in her bed, feeling cold and lonely, for a long time. When she finally fell asleep, she reached out in the darkness of her dreams for someone, anyone, but no one was there.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he next day, Charlotte woke up feeling so tired she was tempted to roll over and go right back to sleep. Even though she had slept for almost nine hours, it seemed like it still wasn’t enough. She forced herself to roll out of bed and go downstairs to make a cup of coffee.

A cloak of depression rested on her shoulders and she wasn’t sure why. The night before had been wonderful. She felt more like herself than she had in a long time. Playing pool with Greg reminded her of how fun and free she had been in college. Even though she was shy with people she didn’t know well, Charlotte eventually learned to open up and laugh and joke with her friends.

In the light of day, she didn’t regret what happened with Greg on her couch, but she felt disconnected. It was as though she had been insulated with thin layers of cotton. Everything seemed just out of reach, her surroundings, her emotions.

With a start, she realized this was how she felt right after Adam died and, that over time, it had faded without her sensing it. Now that it was back, Charlotte wondered why. She hated feeling this way.

Since it was Sunday, she didn’t have to get up and get to work. Greg called her at two and she was still sitting in her kitchen in her pajamas, drinking coffee and staring into space. She hadn’t eaten or showered.

As soon as she answered the phone, Greg said, “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You sound different today. Unhappy.”

Charlotte realized that Greg knew her so well, he could sense her moods even over the phone. It helped warm the parts of her that felt cold.

“I’m okay,” she murmured.

“Don’t bullshit me, Charlotte. Is this about last night?” he asked. “I was worried you would wake up with regrets.”

“No, no, I don’t regret last night. I realized this morning that I felt more like myself than I have in years.” She wanted to stop there, but didn’t. It was becoming clear that something beyond friendship was growing between them and shutting him out was exactly the wrong thing to do. “I just woke up this morning feeling, I don’t know exactly how to describe it….maybe disconnected is the best word for it. I felt this way after Adam died, as though all my emotions were just out of reach but the weight of everything still managed to pull me down into a pit.”

Greg was silent for a second. “I’ll come over.”

Charlotte knew he was on a flight that evening back to California to complete the deal that had been giving him so much trouble. He would need to be at the airport in a couple of hours.