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“Leave it,” I said.

Her hand stopped.

“You’re shaking.”

“So are you.”

I looked down and realized she was right.

That pissed me off more than it should have.

I stepped into the bathroom and disposed of the condom. Cold water ran over my hands while I avoided my reflection, though the man in the mirror remained impossible to escape. I had gone into Charm’s room expecting anger to keep everything clean.

Instead, one night had already become something I could feel reopening inside me.

When I returned, Charm had retrieved her dress but hadn’t put it on. She stood near the door holding the satin against her body, watching me with none of the shame that once followed intimacy.

I picked up my shirt and pulled it around her shoulders.

Her brows lifted. “That’s yours.”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re getting dressed.”

“I haven’t decided.”

The admission surprised both of us.

Charm slid her arms into the sleeves. The black fabric swallowed her hands and fell low enough to cover her body. Seeing her wrapped in my shirt struck harder than seeing her naked had.

She stepped closer. “You can stay.”

“I told you what tonight was.”

“I heard you.” Her hands settled carefully against my waist. “Staying until morning doesn’t have to change it.”

“It would for me.”

Charm absorbed that without trying to argue.

I should’ve collected my clothes, returned to the west wing, and preserved the boundary while it still resembled one. Instead, my hand settled against the back of her neck and drew her into my chest.

Her arms closed around me immediately.

The hug was worse than the sex.

Sex had given my anger somewhere to burn. Holding Charm in the quiet left me alone with the truth I had flown across the country determined to settle.

We had been fucking incredible without the fear.

And I already knew one night would never be enough to put that answer to bed.

.

8

Charm