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“Happy,” she said bitterly. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be happy again.”

He had to touch her—just brush his hands over her hair. “Why not?”

“I used to pretend to be happy, and sometimes I even believed it. But to get there, I had to shove so much down, force myself to forget about what really happened to my family. Now I think about it all the time. I have nightmares about being in that house.”

He let his hand drop to her shoulder. “You’re letting yourself mourn for the first time. That’s probably healthy, don’t you think?”

She glared at him. “This positive attitude isn’t you. I think I liked you better when you were being a jerk.”

“I can be a jerk, if that’s what you want. Here,” he said, and arranged his face into a scowl.

She laughed, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. He couldn’t help himself—he leaned in and kissed her, tasting the laugh on her lips. 

When he drew back, her eyes were wary and wide. “Can you really see past all the things I’ve told you?”

“I see you,” he said softly, cupping her face in his palm. “That’s all that matters.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “I want to be with you. But—”

“No buts,” he said. Instead of moving his chair, he reached out and grabbed hers to haul her around until their knees were touching. “I want to make promises to you. In fact, I’m going to start right now. Next time you have a nightmare, I’ll be there to hold you when you wake up.”

She closed her beautiful eyes. When she opened them again, they were swimming with tears. “You’re making this impossible.”

“So stop trying.”

He framed her face in his hands, tangling his fingers into her hair. He could see the rest of his life spinning out from this moment, and he wanted to savor it. “Briar. I love you.”

She whimpered as if something had broken inside her. 

Charlie felt as if his heart was expanding, large enough to fill the whole room. “I love you. I think I’ve always loved you, since the minute I saw you step out of your aunt’s car when we were children. I love being with you. I feel more alive with you than I have in years. You make me feel like my life is worth living.” 

“Charlie—”

“You know I’m telling the truth. I love that you push me, and that you challenge me. You’re nothing like I imagined, you’re clever and funny and so gorgeous sometimes I can’t breathe.” 

There were fat tears rolling down her cheeks now, but her eyes were shining. 

“I know we can work this out. I love you, and you know that’s true.”

She mopped at her streaming eyes as a laugh burst from her, a sound of pure joy. It was several long moments before she could speak. 

 “Do you know how long it’s been since someone said that to me? I’d given up believing that anyone would ever feel that way about me. Especially someone who knows the truth. Charlie …,” she said, laying a hand on his cheek. “I love you too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Briar

It was a moment she wanted to remember forever—the way his tense shoulders eased as his eyes softened, the gratitude and joy in his face as a golden joy seemed to swell inside her. 

But then he was kissing her and she wanted to remember that; and his stubbly cheek was beneath her hand and she wanted to remember that; and then he was laughing and pulling her closer and she wanted to remember the way their hearts beat in tandem, a strong, steady rhythm. 

When his mouth returned to hers, the kiss held so much sweetness and promise she was fairly sure they were both glowing. 

She wanted more. His mouth wasn’t enough. She wanted to stroke and soothe every inch of him, show him with her body what words couldn’t express. She wanted to be joined with him, share bliss with him.

But she held herself back. Despite what he had said about accepting her past, she suddenly felt shy about taking what she wanted.

Charlie seemed to feel no such hesitation. He pulled her to her feet and, using her for balance, pushed them both toward the couch. 

He stumbled the last few steps, tangling his feet with hers, and Briar fell backward to land full length on the couch. Charlie managed to get one hand onto the back of the couch, but he still landed atop her with an “ooph.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, breathless. 

The way they had landed, his head was just below her breasts.

 He looked up with a grin and said, “Couldn’t have planned it better if I tried.”

He lowered his head to nuzzle at her chest, and even through layers of fabric Briar could feel the heat of his breath. She wanted to arch up into him, but she was afraid he would think she was wanton. 

He looked up at her, unsure. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she said, then winced as a spike of pain hit her. “No. I don’t know.”

He sat up, pulling her with him so she ended up sitting across his lap. “What’s wrong?”

She looked down shyly. “Should we be doing this with all of these people here?”

“I locked the door when we came in. Everyone is too busy celebrating to even notice that we’re gone.”

“I ought to go talk to some people. See if I can convince them not to join the army.” It was true, but she couldn’t put any conviction behind the words. 

“I think you’re probably too late for that,” he said gently. “Besides, how would you explain yourself? You’d have to expose your own power, which is exactly what you don’t want.”

She sighed. “You’re probably right. My word won’t count against Cavanaugh’s.”

He shook her slightly. “It counts with me.”

She bit her lip, staring at the floor. 

“Hey,” he said, tipping her chin up. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go back out there, if that’s what you want. Maybe there are some other people who are on the fence, we can talk to them.”

“No,” she blurted. “I want to stay here, with you. I want to keep doing what we were just doing.”

“That sounds good to me,” Charlie said with a slow smile.

“But that’s the problem, don’t you see? I’ve acted like a tramp with you.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I fail to see how that’s a problem.”

“I don’t want you to think that I would be this forward with anyone. It wasn’t like this before, with the others. You don’t want to hear about it,” she said as he shifted away slightly, “but I have to tell you. I don’t know if it’s my power, but I can’t seem to hold back with you. I want to do everything.”

The heat in his eyes made her blush. “I don’t intend to go all the way. Not here. The first time I make love to you, I want to be alone, really alone with you, someplace beautiful.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“But there are other things we can do,” he continued, letting his gaze drift down her body. “Things that I’m fairly certain we’ll both enjoy.”

“But if I act how I want to act, you’ll think that I’m a hussy,” Briar said. “That’s what anybody would say, about someone who’s been with three different guys.”

“Man, I really messed up,” he said, laying his forehead against hers. “Look, I love that you are so willing. I love that you want me just as much as I want you. That doesn’t make you a hussy or a tramp. It makes you my hussy tramp.”

She giggled at that, and the worst of her anxiety eased. 

“I love you,” he continued, and a thrill rushed through her. “I love how brazen and forthright you are. I mean, if you hadn’t stripped off your stockings in front of me in McPherson’s parking lot we never would have got this far.”

She smiled. “At least that uniform was good for something.”

“Oh, that uniform is great. Maybe some other time, you’ll put it on for me and I’ll show you just how much I like it. But the point is, don’t hold back with me. Don’t let my stupid insecurities ruin this for you. For us.”

She took him at his word and pressed her mouth to his. The contact was like a firework, and suddenly she was bursting with need. 

She adjusted so she could straddle his lap. Her hands tangled with Charlie’s on the buttons of her dress, her fingers fumbling when he slipped his hands into her bodice and over her silky brassiere. Too impatient to unbutton her dress all the way to the hem, Briar leaned back to tug it over her head, leaving her clad in only her brassiere and fluffy white crinoline. 

Charlie held her by her shoulders and stared, licking his lips. Without hesitation, Briar reached back and unclipped her bra, shrugging it off her shoulders in one fluid movement. 

Then Charlie’s hands and mouth were on her, worshiping her body with his touch. 

Briar clutched his head, his shoulders, begging for more. Her restless hips pressed into his, and she could feel the hard ridge of him rubbing against her. 

One of his hands was on her back, supporting her as she bowed into his mouth, while the other was traveling firmly up her thigh under her crinoline. As a concession to the late-summer warmth, she hadn’t worn stockings or a girdle, and his mouth got hungrier as his fingers found inch after inch of bare skin. 

When he found her satin drawers, his thumb brushed her center and they both groaned. Charlie’s mouth moved up to her neck, his teeth nipping at her collarbone as she writhed against him. “Charlie, please,” she moaned.

“Such a little tramp,” he teased, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her throat.

In response, she grabbed his head and forced his mouth to meet hers. The kiss was desperate, passionate, as their tongues twined and dueled. 

Suddenly impatient, Charlie hooked his fingers in her underwear and tore. The delicate satin shredded under the force of his hand. 

Before Briar could get over the shock of that, his long fingers were slipping into her. She bucked against him, welcoming him, desperate for more of the sensation that had been haunting her memory for days. 

He continued to kiss her, stroke into her, as she gasped and moaned into his mouth. Charlie made her feel this way, and only Charlie. It was all of a piece; the scent of him, the taste, the glorious sensations that he brought her. When she stiffened, shattered, he groaned along with her.

“More,” he said, tearing his mouth from hers. He twisted their bodies so he could lay back on the couch, shoving her up to her knees and shuffling down.

“What are you … oh my God!” 

He had flipped her crinoline over his head, and she had a second to worry about what he was doing under her skirt. Then his mouth was on her and she couldn’t think at all. 

It was outrageous, overwhelming. 

Her hands scrabbled at the back of the couch, trying to find a handhold so she could brace herself against the onslaught of sensation. His stubble rasped against the soft skin of her thighs as he lapped at her, setting off electric charges that sent lightning arcing through her body. 

She was dimly aware that she was begging, babbling, praising, but the words were spilling from her mouth without any thought or design. When his fingers joined his tongue, she couldn’t take it anymore. 

Her world exploded.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Briar

When she came back to herself, she was snuggled against Charlie’s chest. He had somehow managed to scoot back up to a sitting position. He was cradling her face into his neck, breathing deep. She stirred herself enough to kiss his ear, and he shuddered. Feeling drowsy and drunk, Briar lifted her head enough to meld her mouth to his. She could feel his heart pounding under her hands as she slid them down his chest. He was still so tense, so taut, while she was feeling loose and relaxed. Lazily, she began to trace his hardness through his pants. 

He hissed, pulling his mouth from hers so he could lay his head back. He seemed to be torn between asking her to stop and begging her to continue. 

“What do you call this?” she asked.

“Call what?”

“This,” she said, cupping him so there could be no doubt. “None of the terms I know seem right. Most of the girls say ‘thingy’ or ‘wiener.’ When we had sex education, Mrs. Kurman called it a pizzle.”

His chuckle was strangled as she ran her thumb over the tip of him. “I usually call it a cock.”

“Cock? Like a rooster? Huh. I guess it is a proud thing. If I were to use my mouth on your cock, like you did on me, would you enjoy it like I did?”

Charlie groaned and bucked against her hand. “Yes,” he said, his voice gone to gravel. “I think I would.”

“Well then,” she said. Her heart was racing again at the idea of bringing him pleasure. She knelt between his thighs and made short work of his belt and button fly, eager to explore him. “Lift up your hips.”

“Wait,” he said, and now he was breathless. “My scars.”

“What about them?

“They’re bad. I don’t like looking at them.”

“You’re biased. Why don’t you let me be the judge?”

After a long moment, he nodded, pushing himself up with his arms. Briar pulled his pants down to his ankles. 

They were bad. Puckered pink skin trailed from thigh to foot. His muscles were twisted and shrunken, and she could still see the places where his leg had been broken and shoved back together. 

“Don’t look,” Charlie said, his voice strangled.

She looked up at his face, so full of tenderness that she could barely speak. “You’re so strong. I can’t believe you survived this.”

He exhaled. “You’re not … disgusted?”

In answer, she pressed her lips to the inside of his knee. She kept kissing her way up his thigh and chest until she could kiss him with all the love inside her.

She broke the kiss and stood, pushing her crinoline and torn panties to the floor. She stood in front of him, completely naked, now enjoying her wantonness. How could she feel less than glorious, with his eyes hungrily devouring her?

She straddled his lap and pressed against him, trapping his cock between their bodies. She felt a throb inside of her when he hardened against her stomach, but ignored it. It was his turn to enjoy himself.