Tendrils of emotion are growing inside me, soft and silky like his hair but just as binding, and they make me think of him, consider his happiness before my own. I’ve always considered Charlie’s happiness, but these impulses are stronger and much less controlled. I’m just not going to put words to what they mean yet. I look down at Charlie and smile. Not yet, anyway. I want to enjoy him for now. Get to know him. I thought I knew everything about Charlie Burroughs, but I’m realizing now that there’s a large chunk of him I don’t know.

I was aware he loved pepperoni and pineapple on his pizza and that he was allergic to penicillin and strawberries. But now I know that he’s wildly affectionate in bed, free with his hugs, and confident and sure in his nakedness. I know that when I put my hand on his back as we walk, or rush to open the door for him, his face will light up and he will give me a smile I’ve never seen before. It’s warm and soft, and when it’s directed just at me, it’s as potent as drinking a bottle of wine.

For the last couple of weeks we’ve been to work and then fallen back into bed together the moment we’re home. And not just bed. I’ve fucked him against the wall in the living room, over the kitchen table, and once on the balcony where he’d impressed on me that we had to be very, very quiet but then proceeded to shout my name at the top of his voice when he came. I have a suspicion that the residents association might want a chat at some point.

Normally, I’d be thrilled with having so much sex that my dick actually feels chafed, but I can’t deny a little thread of worry. I know Charlie and his dating history far too well to even consider that he’ll be okay with this for long. Charlie Burroughs is a romantic. And me? Well, I’m not. I hate all that soppy crap, but what I hate more is the thought of him being disappointed with me and walking away from us. That makes me feel sick, and he stirs as I clutch him way too close.

“Oof,” he mutters, his lashes fluttering as he looks up at me. “Mmm, morning,” he whispers and reaches up to kiss me. His lips are full and soft, and I feel like I’ve stepped into a warm cloud for a second. Then I pull back and look down at him.

“Morning.” I clear my throat quickly. “You slept well.”