Page 59 of Charger

She hops off her stool, but stumbles. I catch her around her waist, holding her to me. The gentle touch of her hands on my chest sends lava coursing through my veins.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

She plays with my shirt with her fingertips. I gently take her hand, walking us to the middle of the club floor. I have a feeling I’ll get shit from the guys for this later. My hand wraps around her waist keeping a small distance between us, but she steps in closer, slowly raking her hands up my chest until she rests them on my shoulders.

She rises on the tips of her toes to whisper into my ear. “Hold me closer, Zach.”

She stares into my eyes. That’s when I wrap my hands fully around her waist, gently tugging her flush against my chest. She relaxes into me, laying her head above my thumping heart. Then she wraps both arms around my neck.

“This reminds me of our prom.”

My chest goes heavy and I can feel my t-shirt getting wet. Lifting her chin with my hand, I wipe her tears away.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl. You don’t ever deserve to cry, got it?” Her breathing picks up as her eyes burn into me. Smiling, she lays her head back down. We stay like this, swaying to our past and welcoming the future.

Jules

I never wanted to leave Zach’s arms. They were warm, safe, familiar. I wanted to stay in his arms forever. But Tank stopped singing and Zach broke apart from me. He smelled so good. Why do men always have that minty cedar smell? It’s such a panty-soaking scent.

A couple of hours and a few too many drinks in, I feel like I’m inside one of those funnels in a fun house. The ones that turn in rotation. I’m sitting at the bar with Angel but I can’t even remember what we were talking about.

“Girl, you okay? Please don’t hurl.”

“I’m fine. No need to worry about me. I am totally fine.” I wave my hand, almost unintentionally smacking her in the face.

“Right. You stay here and I’ll be right back.”

I shoo her off with a laugh, more like a hiccup. “Tequila, can I please have another drink.” I drag out the word please longer than intended.

“Sorry, Jules. But I think it’s my job to cut you off right about now.”

Now I get why my customers are so annoyed when I tell them the same thing. “I totally understand.” I laugh, attempting to put my elbow on the bar but missing. My stomach flops, preparing me for the shameful fall. But a strong arm catches me around the front of my waist.

“Okay, babe. I think it’s time we call it a night.” With Zach’s arm bracing the front of me, I lose the ability to think, to speak. He’s so beautiful it hurts—the way his blue eyes are shining under the strands of his hair. All those tattoos on his arms are like a work of art. No one can be this beautiful. “Let’s go, babe.” He scoops me up by hooking one arm under my knees with the other on my back. I move my arms around his shoulders and neck, melting into him. He carries me through the crowd as I watch him intently, studying his handsome features as we trek all the way to his room. Wait, room? He sets me down, then closes the door behind us. “Chloe’s staying at your parents, right?”

I nod wordlessly. I’m in his room. Where his bed is. I. Am. In. His. Room. “Um, Zach, is this where you live?” He stands by the door, peering at me with features shadowed by so little light—the only illumination radiating from the lamp on his bedside table.

“I never really needed a place of my own. Living above the bar kind of suits me.”

“Guess we both have something in common, huh?” I laugh.

“Guess so.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You can crash on the bed, unless you want me to take you home, but I’ll be honest… I’m not completely sober either.”

“No, no. It’s fine. But where are you sleeping?” He points over to the chair in the opposite corner. “Zach, please, that doesn’t look comfortable. I’ll sleep there. I’m smaller anyway.” He walks into the bathroom, strolling back out with a cup of water and two pills, which I assume are Aspirin. Our arms touch as he passes by before snatching a pillow off his bed and laying it on the chair.

“It’ll be fine. Go ahead and get comfortable.” Zach takes his leather off, placing it on the dresser. He then grabs the hem of his black t-shirt and pulls it over himself, throwing it on the floor. I swallow. His tattoos are so seductive, along with that damn nipple piercing. Even his abs are provocative, with the small rays of light shining on them. I can’t pry my feet off the floor, and I sure as hell can’t take my eyes off him. I’m standing here like an idiot while he unbuttons his jeans and runs the zipper down.

“Zach, wait. What are you doing?”

He pauses. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t sleep in anything but my boxers. Is that going to be a problem? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He’s right, but I haven’t seen this raw, powerful twenty-five-year-old in boxers. Just the eighteen-year-old boy from next door.

“N-no, no problem at all.” I roll my eyes back, breathing out. He tugs off his jeans and, good God… His thighs are pure muscle and his ass looks like he squats his motorcycle. Okay, alcohol talking. Chill out, girl.

He sits down in the chair (which he makes look like dollhouse furniture), crossing his arms over his chest with one ankle over the other and his eyes closed. I set my shoes off to the side, then burrow into his bed sheets. They smell like him. I bring the fabric to my nose, inhaling and breathing him in. The scent is comforting. But something is missing. Oh yeah, him. I glance over, to check if his eyes are still closed. They are. I slowly, quietly, leave his bed. Stumbling a bit, I don’t stop until I’m directly in front of him.

“Zach,” I whisper and his eyes fly open. I’m still wearing my dress. Finding the zipper behind my back, I begin pulling it down.