The Liberator

want.

“Is she okay?” I ask. Charlie nods against my chest. “Did her dad do that to her?”

She glances up. “She says he’s better now. That he got confused after her mother left.”

A snarl builds in my throat. “Confused, my ass. I’ll kill him.”

“She doesn’t need vengeance,” Charlie says. “She needs someone to care. That’s all.”

“Lincoln cares,” I spit. “People care. She doesn’t need that shit stain.”

“Leave her alone for now.” Charlie squeezes my hand. “Let’s go inside.”

My anger vanishes when she says those words. Because even though I want to drive back to Denver and leave a body count, I miss my Charlie. I miss her smile and her eagerness to believe the best in people. And I miss her body beneath mine.

Opening my hotel door, I move inside, never letting go of Charlie’s hand. It’s like I’m worried if I do, she’ll pull away again. My heart picks up for a different reason than when I was thinking about Aspen’s dad. Because now all I want to do is talk to Charlie. To ask her what’s been going on with us. Never did I think this would happen to me, that I’d be the one begging a girl to open up. But emotions turns even a dope cat like me into a dipshit.

I guide Charlie toward the bed. She sits down while I pace in front of her. I seem to do that a lot since I met Charlie Cooper—pace.

Pace like an animal.

Pace like a mad man.

“Why did you get out of the car?” I try to keep my voice even. “When we got to Aspen’s? Why did you jump out? You knew that’d scare the crap out of me. You can’t do that.”

“I knew she wouldn’t leave us.” Charlie folds her hands in her lap. She looks dignified. And I feel scared shitless. Scared that she doesn’t care about me like she used to, which is why it was so easy for her to jump out of the car. Scared that the I love yous we exchanged before came too soon.

“How did you know she wouldn’t leave?” I demand. “You couldn’t have.”

Pace, pace, pace.

“I did,” she insists. “I couldn’t leave her alone.”

“What about me? You left me alone!” Charlie doesn’t say anything, so I keep railing, my voice growing louder with every word. “What if something had happened to you? It’s supposed to be you and me, Charlie. Not you and Blue, or you and Aspen. It’s supposed to be us. Don’t you care about us? Don’t you care about me?”

Charlie stands up and heads toward the door.

“Don’t you dare walk out that door,” I tell her. I try to sound strong, but my voice shakes. And my legs shake. Everything shakes. Because I need an answer from her, and if she leaves now…

Charlie stops. Quietly, so quietly I almost don’t hear her, she says, “I can’t be who you want me to be.”

“What?” I stand frozen, relieved she said something, anything.

Charlie remains silent for several moments. “At the airport, you said you wished I was more like you.” She pauses, and I wrack my brain trying to remember what she’s talking about. When I do remember, my stomach clenches. “I tried, Dante. I met new friends, people I thought were friends. I did things I wouldn’t normally do. I danced when someone asked and drank when someone offered.” She turns around so that we’re facing each other. “I dressed differently, I never left a dare unfulfilled, and I thought about myself before others. Instead of watching old movies with Annabelle, I watched the sun rise after partying all night. I became someone I’m not. And I did it all for you.” Charlie lets out a long breath. “But I resented you for it. Because the truth is, I don’t want to be more like you. I just want to be me. I won’t change, and you’re always going to want—”

“Stop.”

Charlie’s mouth stays open, but she doesn’t say another word.

“What I said before I left for Denver…” I trail off, because I don’t want to screw this up. “I don’t want you to change. Since the moment I met you, I knew you weren’t like me. You were better. You are better. You’re the person I wish I could be. Your whole life…it means something. It means something so big that angels and demons are buzzing around you, trying to take some for themselves. You care about people besides yourself. Like, you really care. Not because of how it makes you feel, but because of how it makes them feel.” I step closer to Charlie. She doesn’t move away.

“I love the way you are, Charlie. I love it so much it tears me apart. I think about what would happen if I didn’t have you in my life—you, the girl you were when I met you—and I feel like I can’t breathe.” I trace my thumb over the dip below her bottom lip. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was to take. But with you, all I want is to give you everything—every creature in the sea, every star in the sky…my own beating heart. I love you, Charlie. Just the way you are, I love you.”

I don’t care if it’s too quick to say those words, or if she ever really felt the same way. Screw it all.

I kiss her.

Her lips move against mine, hesitantly at first, then with hunger. My heart hammers when I grasp that she’s not going to pull away this time. I place both hands around her waist and pull her closer. I lose myself in the taste of her lips. Her hair spills over her shoulder, and I breathe in the sweet blossom smell as I trail kisses down her neck. Charlie circles her arms around my neck and leans into me as a fire builds in the pit of my stomach. I feel her fingers digging into my back, and a low moan escapes my mouth as she brushes her hands over my chest, my hips, and just below the waistband of my jeans. Every place she touches me—every place where my lips touch her skin—bursts alive. My hands move up her waist to the top of her back. I press nearer so that I can almost sense our hearts beating in time.

Moving to her ear, I whisper, “I love you, Charlie. I love you.”

I can’t stop saying it—

Each time I kiss her.

I love you.

Each time her fingers move up the base of my neck and into my hair.

I love you.

When I lift her off her feet and move toward my bed.

I love you.

Charlie lies back on a blanket of white. Her blond hair creates a halo around wide, blue eyes, pink mouth, cream skin—

Open arms.

A lump builds in my throat when I lower myself onto her, parting her thighs. And for a moment, I’m not sure I can do this. It never seems right. The timing is always off. But when Charlie takes my face in her hands and meets my gaze, every uncertain thought fades away.

“If I had a soul,” I say. “I’d give it to you.”

Charlie pulls me closer so that our lips almost touch. She lays a hand on my face, and her eyes swim with affection. “You may not have my soul, Dante. But you will always have my heart.”

And then it’s over.

My life as I knew it is over.

Her shirt slides off easily over her head, and my entire body burns in anticipation of feeling her in this new way. With trembling hands, I undo the button on her jeans and guide them off, stopping to kiss the tops of her knees, the insides of her ankle. Charlie leans up and pulls off my shirt, and in slow, gentle movements—in between kisses in new, sensual places—the rest of our clothes fall to the floor.

Charlie slips beneath the white blanket. I join her, my breath coming deep and quick.

I pause over her, staring down at this girl I met months ago with her wide smile and crystal laugh. And her heart. I press my lips to her chest and lay a kiss where I feel it thrumming.

“I’ll love you forever,” I hear her whisper.

And even though I’ve said it a hundred times. A thousand. I say it again.

“I love you, angel. Forever.”

With my heart overflowing, and a tear slipping down Charlie’s cheek—