Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion

Rádio Check

“You didn’t think we’d be staying in separate rooms, did you?” Charles asked, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

I hesitated for a second too long.

His grin widened. “Amy, come on. We’re alone on a yacht in the middle of the ocean. We don’t have to pretend we don’t want to share a room.”

My throat went dry, and he definitely noticed. His amusement only deepened.

Rolling my eyes to mask my nervousness. “I just wasn’t expecting—this.”

“Expecting what?” He took a step closer, his voice dropping just a little. “To share a bed with me? To be this close to me?”

“I think you like it more than you want to admit,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. His touch sent a shiver down my spine.

Before I could say anything, his hands slid to my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“Are you more nervous now?” he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against my cheek.

“Yes,” I admitted, barely above a whisper.

He hummed in satisfaction, tilting his head slightly. “You don’t have to be. It’s just us, mon amour. We know each other. We’ve been this close before.”

“It’s different,” I managed to say.

“Why?”

I had no answer. Not one I could say out loud.

His lips brushed against my jaw, then lower, tracing a slow path down my neck. My breath hitched when he reached my collarbone, his hands tightening just slightly on my waist.

Then he stopped. Pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“Are you going to have a meltdown if I keep touching you like this?”

I barely had time to think before his mouth was on mine, capturing whatever response I might have had.

The kiss started slow, teasing, as if he was giving me a chance to pull away. I didn’t. I couldn’t. My hands found his shoulders, fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt as I pressed closer. His grip on me tightened, one hand sliding up my back, the other settling on my hip, holding me firmly against him.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine, coaxing a soft gasp from me. He took advantage of it, tilting his head to kiss me deeper, slower, more possessively. I felt my knees weaken, and he must have noticed because he let out a quiet chuckle against my lips before lifting me effortlessly, walking us toward the bed.

“Charles,” I murmured, but I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to say.

“Hmm?” he responded, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, my neck, my shoulder.

“We should—” My words cut off when he nipped lightly at the sensitive spot beneath my ear.

“We should what?” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something that sent heat pooling low in my stomach.

“I don’t know,” I admitted breathlessly.

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his green eyes dark with intent. “Then stop thinking so much,” he murmured, brushing his lips against mine again. “Just feel.”

Charles tilted his head back, exhaling a shaky breath as his fingers tightened around my waist.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get the chance in this lifetime."