The Husband Game

“It’s fine.” I squint past him at the clock, still trying to reorient myself. Still trying not to linger too long on the memory of his naked body in the shower, water cascading over those impossibly perfect muscles of his, while he ran his hands over my curves, then gripped my hips and pinned me against the wet shower wall, leaning in to—

I clear my throat, hard. To judge by the widening smirk on Charlie’s face, he knows exactly where my traitorous brain just wandered off to. “I should probably, uh…” I blink hard a few times. Shit. All at once, I remember what I was actually supposed to be doing yesterday. Not hooking up with a random hottie but working on my article for Fiona. Luring in some unsuspecting undergrad to get some shitty pickup lines as pull quotes. Or whatever.

“Before you say anything,” Charlie murmurs, leaning in to press a finger to my lips. “You should know, I make a mean pancake. Best you’ll ever eat.” His grin widens. “And, then, you know. We can enjoy more than just the pancakes in bed…”

I clamp my lips together. It’s tempting, I’ll give him that. Bastard knows exactly how tempting he is, too, because he chooses that moment to tilt closer to me, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair back from my forehead. He tucks it behind my ear slowly, his fingertip grazing the shell of my ear, lingering there. The heat makes my whole body catch fire, burn with unspent heat.

Fuck. How can I want him this badly again, already?

I swallow hard around a lump in my throat. “I can’t lie, that’s a tempting offer.”

He smirks. “So, that’s a yes then.” Without waiting for another word, he slides out of the bed and grabs a sweatshirt slung over the back of the nearest chair, yanking it on. I notice the logo emblazoned across the front. Hartford College.

“Are you an alum?” I ask without thinking, my gaze lingering on that logo.

He lifts an eyebrow at me, tilting his head with confusion. “Uh, no. Senior at the engineering school.”

Oh.

Oh. Fuck.

That makes him… twenty-one, twenty-two at most? A senior in undergrad? Oh my god. My face floods with heat before I can stop myself.

Charlie’s frown deepens. “I… sort of figured you’d have guessed that. What with where we met and all.”

Of course. I clear my throat. “Right. Yeah. That’s cool, I guess.”

He lets out a low laugh. “You don’t seem like it’s cool.”

“No, I just, er…” I suck in a deep breath and roll off the bed. “I should probably head out. I have some work to get done, and—”

“Lila.” He stops me with a single, searing glance. Sincere and open and white hot all at once. I couldn’t move my feet if I tried. They feel like lead, weighted to the floor. “What’s wrong?”

You’re at least five years younger than me, and I had no idea you were an undergraduate when I set up my little trap to write about how guys like you are terrible to try and date these days?

This whole situation is so unlike me. Normally I never even hook up with guys I don’t at least know semi-well. The one time I try it, look where it gets me. Robbing the damn cradle.

Fuck. I hope he’s old enough to drink, I think, but then I remember with a rush of relief that we went bar-hopping before we came back here last night.

Still. I’ve never exactly thought of myself as the cougar type.

My emotions must be playing out across my face, because Charlie takes a step toward me, then another. Before I can react, he’s right in front of me, reaching up to rest his hands on my shoulders. They feel like tiny twin weights, pinning me in place, warm and reassuring, and exactly the touch I shouldn’t be craving. “Hey, Lila. It’s okay. We had fun last night. If you want, I’ll make you some pancakes, we don’t have to do anything else.”

“It’s not that,” I blurt, before I can caution myself to shut up. I shake my head, then keep shaking it, because he’s trying to catch my gaze, and I know if I let him hold my eye, I’ll cave in. “Just, I have this work thing I was supposed to turn in yesterday, but I… well. Didn’t.” My face heats all over again.

I can’t remember the last time I blushed this often. Damn him.

“Okay.” Confusion remains lingering in his expression, but he lifts his hands from my shoulders, at any rate. “If you have to run, that’s fine.”

“I do.” I bite my lower lip. It is, quite honestly, the last thing I want to do right now. But for one thing, I need to sort out how the hell I’m feeling about all this—and what I should really do about it next. For another thing, I really do need to send Fiona something. I’m dreading turning on my phone, because I know how she gets when she’s awaiting a story she really likes. She’ll probably have blown up my texts by now.