Southern Gentleman (Charleston Heat 3)

I could get used to Julia’s brand of Netflix and chill.Chapter SixteenGreysonHalfway through episode two, Julia’s head lolls and falls lightly on my shoulder.

My heart skips a beat. Body warms.

I look down and see that she’s asleep. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling in an easy, slow rhythm. She feels warm and solid against me.

There are few places Julia and I haven’t touched each other. I’ve had fingers and tongue all over her body. She’s had me in her mouth, between her legs, between her tits.

But we’ve never had contact like this. Flirty, soft, fun touching that’s making those butterflies in my stomach take flight.

She’s trusting me. Me, the wolf.

This smart, brave woman thinks I’m worthy of her trust, despite knowing the strength of my bite.

Is it fucked up that that fills me? To the brim?

I want to wrap her in my arms and fall asleep with her right here on the couch. But she’s exhausted, for one thing, and probably is in desperate need of a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

For another, I don’t trust myself not to wake her up and fuck her five ways to Sunday.

That can’t happen. For a lot of reasons.

A new one that wasn’t there before. I like Julia. Like her. What if I show her my dark side—what if I tell her the truth about what I did—and she hates me for it? Judges me? I don’t want to lose her.

What if she sees the real me and runs?

So I reach for the iPad, careful not to move her, and turn it off. I slip one arm under her torso, the other underneath her knees. Bending my legs so I don’t lift with my back, I stand, cradling her against my chest.

Julia makes a noise, eyes fluttering open.

“Shit, did I fall asleep? I’m sorry. I’ll go home. Wait, Greyson, are you—”

“Carrying you up to my bed? Yes.”

Her lips curl into a sly, sleepy little smile. “Are you going to have your way with me? How villainous.”

“Nah. Thought I’d play the hero tonight and let you have your rest. I’ll sleep down here.”

Julia lifts a brow. “See? Villain in one story, hero in another.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I grunt, climbing the stairs. “If you knew what is going through my mind right now, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“Heroes are allowed to have dirty minds.” She loops her arms around my neck, resting her head against my chest. “I actually prefer them that way.”

Sweet baby Jesus.

As if I couldn’t want this woman more.

“Help yourself to anything you need,” I say as I carefully maneuver Julia into my bedroom. “Bathroom’s right in there, and I’ve got plenty of clothes in the closet if you’d like to change. Usually I enforce a strict no-clothes policy in my bed, but I’ll make an exception tonight. If you get hungry, just come get me and I’ll whip something up for you. There’s plenty of leftovers, and I’ve got some Greek yogurt in the fridge, too. I was reading that pregnant women should have some protein in their snacks, so…”

But Julia is asleep again, arms falling from around my neck.

I tuck her in, careful not to wake her. Grin when she lets out a contented sigh as I pull the covers up to her chin. I turn the heat down at night, so I don’t want her getting cold.

I want to climb into bed with her. God, do I want that. But I have no illusions about what will go down if that happens. Plus, I don’t want her waking up in the middle of the night next to a dude she doesn’t remember falling asleep with.

So I leave the hall light on and head back downstairs.

The rain’s let up a bit. I grab a cigarette and step outside onto the balcony, making sure to shut the door firmly behind me. Don’t want any second hand smoke getting into the house with Julia inside.

Outside, the air is chilly but humid. Charleston in late autumn and winter.

I light the cigarette and take a big inhale. I wait for the usual release that comes—the fleeting lightness—as I slowly exhale, tilting my head up to the sky.

But it doesn’t come.

Furrowing my brow, I take another drag.

The realization hits me on the third inhale.

The lightness doesn’t come because it’s already there.

In my head and my chest. My limbs. My mood.

I don’t need nicotine to make me feel better because I already do.

I already feel warm and fuzzy. Julia is upstairs. Charlie Brown, too. Both of them safe and warm under my roof. I fed Julia, I made her laugh. I lit her up and drew her out. Drew parts of myself out in the process.

Is this what happy feels like? It’s been so long.

But these butterflies—they just won’t quit.

Part of me wants to smoke the rest of this cigarette. No question I’m 100% addicted, and my body craves the nicotine. But another part—a part I don’t recognize—wants to see if I have the willpower to put it out. Right now.