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Okay in my defense I HAVE been writing. I have about 24 pages of stuff that just isn't friggin working. I'm about to restart the section for a third time and I feel REALLY good about this one. My finals have also been probably the worst I've ever experienced so that hasn't helped. I'm turning all those in today so tomorrow is devoted to writing. I'm SERIOUSLY hoping to get this out before we leave for Switzerland on Tuesday.

Hang in there guys! I'm working I swear!!! However if anyone would want to provide me with any kind of incentive in the form of porn I would gladly accept. I'm am not opposed to being bribed



Justsoyouknowthat'sajokeomg Sometimes the interwebz do not properly convey my sarcasm

Okay I am SO SORRY this took me so long to get up. Life went kinda crazy and in my defense I rewrote this about three times. So writers block combined with the end of my quarter are to blame. Also I probably won't get to responding to reviews for awhile because my friend and I are leaving for Switzerland tomorrow and will be traveling for about a week. I dunno if we'll have internet or not so just be patient I WILL get back to you all I promise! Thank you all for your patience and enjoy!!!!


- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE -


All the blood is rushing to Justin's head. He realizes this but he doesn't do anything to rectify it, just continues to let his neck hang back off the side of the bed, staring unseeingly at the room upside down in front of him. The plush hotel room rug is the ceiling and all the furniture hangs from it perfectly silhouetted against the large windowpane that showcases the Los Angeles skyline, the buildings tearing jaggedly into a sky tinged purple with the oncoming sunset. His vision is slightly fuzzy, his eyes feeling as if they're too big for the sockets and he really should sit up or he's going to have a bitch of a headache but he stays where he is because keeping all the blood in his body inside his head is the only way to keep it from spinning off into oblivion.

When his alarm had gone off this morning his chest had been full, dread settling on him like a heavy coat and as he'd dressed he felt almost as if he were readying himself for his own funeral. He was used to the guilt by now. Two days of forcing smiles at his fiancé, insisting that he was fine, and trying his best not to think about the way Charlotte's face had fallen as he'd left her office on Friday. The complexity of his emotions was staggering, beginning with his anger-at himself, at Amelia for changing so drastically and at Charlotte for… for what being the same? Being better? He wasn't sure. As he grew more and more accustomed to the guilt, living with it and through it, he was given the time to analyze it and try to understand it which only gave way to more questions, even the simple emotion of guilt complicated beyond his comprehension. He felt horrible for his betrayal and every time he looked at Amelia he had to stop himself from falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness. After everything she's done to him he still loves her, loves her so deeply and the fact that he could feel that way about her and still - he refuses to think the word cheat - only makes him hate himself more. But weaving with that was also the guilt of how he'd treated Charlotte. How short he'd been with her, the slight tinge of her face that showed how deeply he'd hurt her haunting him late at night when he couldn't sleep, his arm curled loosely around his fiancé's waist.

The events of the day replay themselves over and over again in his head and it's like his own personal torture reel as he remembers the silent ride to the airport, the wide stretch of seat as she put as much space between them as possible. Then the plane ride, the silence continuing to stretch on, building an invisible wall between them, every minute like a brick that was being cemented in place.

He misses her. He misses her so desperately, longing for her in a way that had very little to do with sex although that was part of it. Charlotte was his sounding board; if he was confused she could set him right or at least get him going in the right direction. His first response to his confusion was resolving to talk to her about it but his mind stuttered when he realized he couldn't and he had no other solution. What's he supposed to do when she is exactly the person he needs advice on how to approach? It's then that he realizes that she has become one of his closest friends, maybe even his best friend now that he and Trace didn't see each other very often anymore. She understands him and she puts up with all his bullshit and she cares about him, him, his wants and needs when so often he was overlooked. And he had royally fucked everything up.

Sex ruins everything, his mind taunts and he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing the memory back, the response second nature to him now after two days of searing guilt but he knows he needs to feel this, to understand what is going on in his head so he can fix this. He has to fix this. He let's his mind wander tentatively, treading carefully over feelings that are unfamiliar and yearnings that he knows are wrong but can't help feeling them anyway. He lets the memories wash over him, his body heating up just slightly when he remembers the sound of his name passing her lips, the gentle scrape of her fingernails across the back of his neck. But stronger than that is the way her eyes lit up on Christmas morning when she opened the record he'd given her, the wide smile she'd given him while dancing at his birthday party and even as far back as that business lunch for Kalayah's album where she looked him straight in the eye and told him he could do it. She'd always believed in him even when he wasn't sure. She's his best friend.

And that's when he realizes that guilt hasn't been the only thing that's been torturing him these past few days. The pain he is feeling is his heart breaking, sadness at the loss of one of his best friends so severe that he's drowning in it. It has nothing to do with sex, he tells himself as Amelia's face surfaces in his mind. The sex was just…just… Amazing, his brain offers and he scoffs, bringing his hands up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes rubbing roughly. It was just… something that had happened. He and Charlotte are more than that, he tells himself, their friendship is strong enough to get past it. It has to be. They just need to talk, as much as he doesn't want to and as afraid as he is of what might come from it they can't go on like this. She matters too much to him to let it go on like this and he can only hope that somewhere deep down she feels the same.

He rolls onto his stomach, reaching for the phone.

***

Charlotte sighs, padding out of the bathroom, rubbing her head roughly with the fluffy white hotel towel. She'd been convinced a long hot shower was just what she had needed to wash away the horrible day she'd had but as she'd stood under the spray, letting the water scald her she found she couldn't escape it. Her thoughts were jumbled with memories and worries, sadness and of course the longing for him, something that involved so much more than sex although she couldn't help letting her mind wander there as well.

If she were honest with herself she'd say that she'd been looking forward to this trip. She's never been further west than Saint Louis and despite what is happening between she and Justin she's been excited to see California, to stay in one of the most famous hotels in Los Angeles. She wants to see the Pacific Ocean, see Hollywood. She'd sort of been hoping that Justin would take her around a little. She'd let little scenarios float throughout her brain, going to the beach with him, dinner in little hole in the wall places he used to frequent when he lived out here and in her last fading thoughts before sleep she'd dreamed of a hushed phone call in the middle of the night, calling her to him and then...and then…

But all of that had been snuffed out with one look at him when she'd climbed into the towncar this morning. He hadn't even said hello, just blinked slowly at her and she'd dropped her gaze almost immediately as she slid across the leather seats, leaving a wide space between them and they'd spent the day in utter silence.

The hardest part of this, she thinks, is not knowing. She always took comfort in knowing Justin because Amelia was so unpredictable, her intentions always uncertain and her moods liable to turn in a matter of seconds. But Justin was steadfast and almost predictable, honest and forthcoming with how he felt and what he wanted. She liked that their relationship had gotten to that level. It'd been a long time since she'd known someone as well as him. Or as well as she thought she had.

The hardest part is not knowing, not being able to read him. Every time she'd chanced a glance in his direction his face had been smooth and blank, no sign of anger or remorse, no sign of anything and she hated not knowing. Was he angry over what they'd done or was he merely too much of a coward to breach the subject?

He'd made no effort to clue her in, his politeness cold and the silence, god, the silence between them was deafening. The hardest blow however came ironically enough with the first words he'd spoken to her all day. When they'd arrived at the hotel, he'd mentioned hitting the golf course but said she didn't have to come. It was the way he'd said it, trying to make it sound like he was letting her off the hook but she could read the undertones all too well. He didn't want her with him. He didn't want her.

It stung, still stings, just like it did when he didn't want her to come on this trip. She doesn't understand how he can be so cold, how he can throw away everything that they've built together. She'd always fancied that he liked her so much because they knew what it was like to deal with Amelia day in and day out. Even though neither of them would ever admit it, the evidence was there in honest exasperations and shared looks. It was nice just knowing that someone else got just as vexed as she did, that she wasn't alone.

Despite how he's treated her over the past few days, she knows he's a good man under everything, the part of her heart that belongs exclusively to him shouting down the cynical part of her brain that says she's an idiot for believing in him. She believes he's good, just clumsy with other's feelings, unknowing and bumbling as he is with so many other things as well and that's the hardest part she thinks, knowing that he is good, really is trying. Just not trying for her.

She doesn't really know what to believe anymore. She'd spent the entire day in her hotel room, watching television or sitting in silence next to the window, watching well-dressed men and women weave in and out of expensive shops, Mercedes and BMWs crawling down the street. After six hours of being nowhere else but inside her own head and a shower that left her skin red and tingling she's decided it's time to let her heart shut down and for her brain to take over, something she should have let happen all along. What they had - their friendship - apparently meant much less to him than it did to her and it would be easier to let him go now, although she doesn't really see how, the pain in her chest deep and unrelenting.

It is all for the best, she tells herself, forcing down the lump in her throat. The towel falls to the floor and she allows herself to fall back onto the large hotel bed, her body sinking into the layers of heavy bedding and takes comfort in it, feeling as if she were being enveloped, held and protected. She shouldn't allow herself to cry anymore. It's over and done with and she forces herself to be honest with herself. She and Justin were never anything more than a kiss in a stairwell and a quick fuck on a desk. They may have been friends at some point, best friends even but that seemed to be over now too. The words don't comfort her but thinking them is the first step to getting over this, saying them comes next and maybe eventually she'll start to believe them and it won't hurt anymore.

The ring of the phone breaks her from her thoughts and she sighs, flinging her arm out to reach for it wearily. She really hopes that it isn't Amelia. Her hand snatches back suddenly as a horrible thought dawns on her. Amelia…What if this whole trip was one big set up? Why else would Amelia tell her to book that huge penthouse suite for Justin and then leave no particular instructions for Charlotte's lodgings. Did Amelia expect them to shack up? Was there a private detective lurking around the corner waiting with a camera to catch them in the act? The phone is still ringing and jarring her brain enough so that she reaches for it quickly, not wanting to let Amelia think that she's anywhere but her own room.

"Hello?" she asks, her head falling back against the pillow, eyes sinking closed. The line is silent and she cracks her eyes open, her brows drawing in confusion. "Hello?" she questions again and she hears a sharp intake of breath on the other line before the sound of a throat being cleared.

"Um…hey…"

She sits up suddenly, peeling her wet hair away from her cheeks and her heart thumps wildly in her chest at the mere sound of his voice. "Oh…uh…hi." She bites her lip to control the panting of her breath and all she hears is static on the line. "Justin?"

"Yeah it's me," he says, his voice low and quiet and she has to press the receiver hard against her ear to hear him.

"Is…is everything okay?" she prompts when he doesn't continue, her fingers tangling nervously in the phone cord.

"Uh…yeah!" he says, his voice falsely bright and the sound hurts her ears. "Um…yeah I mean…" there's a long pause and then she hears the crackle of his sigh through the line. "No…no it's not okay." Her heart is racing, blood pounding so loudly in her ears that she almost misses what he says next. "Can you come up here?"

She blinks slowly, her breathing shallow. He just asked her to come up to his room. Her heart feels as if it could beat out of her chest, a flash of adrenaline warming her and she swallows hard, her hand beginning to tremble so that the receiver shakes against her ear.

"Justin…we…we shouldn't," she says, her fingers tangling tighter in the phone cord, her voice shaking just slightly.

"No!" his voice booms through the phone and it hurts her ears. "No, I…" he lets out a soft chuckle and she can practically see the crimson of his cheeks. "Not…not like that."

"O-oh…" Charlotte says and she feels her own cheeks burn. "Yeah…of-ofcourse not," she chuckles herself, rolling her eyes at her own idiocy. Jesus, Charlie…

"I just…" the line goes quiet again and all she can hear is the faint crackle of his breath and her fingers curl tightly around the receiver, her eyes closing as she just listens to him breathe, her heart calling to him through the line even though her brain tries to silence it with logic. He's not yours to have, Charlie. You have to let go.

"How can I help you?" Charlotte asks trying to keep her voice as even as possible, startled by how strange the words sound coming out of her mouth. How can I help you? What I am the front desk clerk? She does her best to swallow the lump in her throat and he makes a sound she can't quite decipher.

"I…I don't wanna do this over the phone, Charlie. Will you please-"

"Don't call me that," she quietly cuts him off and this time there's no mistaking his growl. "We can't keep doing this," she says feebly when he doesn't respond and she hears him sigh again.

"You're the only one I can talk to," he says softly and Charlotte's heart breaks at the weakness in his voice. "You…you're all I got right now, Charlie…" he pauses, "Charlotte, I mean. Sorry."

He says her name grudgingly and she lets her eyes close as her heart and head war with each other, wanting so desperately to go to him but she knows that she shouldn't. She's not just at his disposal. She's the only one he can talk to? She's all he's got? Right now. Key words, Charlie.

"What about tomorrow?" she asks and she can hear his confusion through the line. "I'm all you have right now, what about tomorrow Justin? And the next day? What about that?"

"I don't wanna do this over the phone," he says again firmly and she sighs, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. "Please. Just…just give me five minutes."

She pauses, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and she bites down brutally, torn between what she knows is right and what she really wants. This won't end well. And that's all it will be. An ending.

"Charlotte…" he says and she sighs. "Please."

She waits a beat. "Okay," she breathes, her voice defeated.

"Okay, I'll…I'll see you in a couple minutes," he says and he sounds relieved.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Charlotte's hand stutters as she reaches to drop the receiver back onto the cradle and falls back against her pillows briefly. Her heart is pounding in her chest, hands trembling just slightly and she forces herself to get a grip. He wants to talk. This is exactly what she wanted but now she's beginning to think that may not be such a good idea. What if he tells her its over? There's nothing for there to be over, her brain spits brutally and her heart aches, challenging that there is. They're friends, were friends once. She clings to the thought like a lifeline.

She pulls herself from the bed and glances in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her sleep shorts are twisted on her hips and as she straightens them she realizes they show entirely too much of her thighs for comfort now that Fiona had pegged them as "a problem area." She tugs on neckline of her tanktop, pulling it to cover what small amount of cleavage she has and she should probably put on a bra. She reaches for her cardigan instead, threading her arms through and wrapping it around herself with a sigh. Her face is blotchy and red from her shower and her hair lays flat against her head running slickly down her back from not even brushing it yet. Part of her doesn't want him to see her like this, tells her she should at least put something on that doesn't accentuate the wide berth of her hips and the thickness of her thighs but another part says that it doesn't matter. Whatever he has to say he's going to say no matter what she looks like. She compromises slightly by running a brush through her wet hair before running out the door.

The elevator attendant gives her a dubious look when she asks him to take her to the penthouse, eyeing the length of her legs and her bare feet, the polish left over from Justin's birthday now chipped and dismal looking. She's the first to admit she doesn't seem the type that would be heading up to the penthouse at nine o'clock at night but his suspicion annoys her. After six months of working for Amelia being looked down upon over everything from her shoes to her bank balance was really starting to get on her nerves.

The elevator arrives with a jolt and she gives the man a tight smile, feeling him watching her as she walks slowly out of the elevator, appraising the small hallway before stepping up to the only door, finding it not even marked with a number or letter. She bites her lip as she brings her hand up to knock softly, butterflies setting loose in her stomach.

When Justin hears the knock he propels himself from the couch, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the door. He pauses, reaching up to adjust his hair but finds none and smoothes his hand down his chest instead, wiping away any wrinkles that might be in his shirt before he swings the door open. Charlotte is standing there awkwardly, her arms wrapped around her stomach, holding her black cardigan closed. Her skin is dewy, her hair damp and disheveled and it takes everything in him not to let his eyes linger on the long expanse of her legs.

"Hi," she says breathlessly when he doesn't speak and he smiles at the sound of her voice.

"Hi," he returns and she gives him an uncertain smile. "Come in," he urges, standing aside and she takes a cautious step into the room, her toes sinking into to the plush carpet as she pads into the entry way.

Her jaw is slack as she takes in the grandeur of the room. Mismatched overstuffed couches and chairs mingle with mahogany and glass tables the hodgepodge of design distinctive but cohesive in the way only modern design can pull off. Large floor to ceiling windows boast breathtaking views of the Los Angeles skyline, the large garden terrace wrapping around the building, colorful flowers and leafy trees scattered around the hot tub and Moroccan bed with yellow and orange sashes shielding it from the dying sunlight. She's dazed by the city lights, the windows drawing her closer as she steps down into the sunken living room.

"We're you sleeping?" he asks and she's broken from her thoughts, jolting slightly and it takes her a minute to answer.

"No…no I just…" she's struck speechless by the view again, watching the lights twinkle prettily on the hills in the distance.

"The view's nice huh?" he says, jumping on a topic as it presents itself, moving to step up next to her and she nods slowly.

"It's beautiful," she replies absently and Justin lets his eyes roam her face slowly, her green eyes dancing like he hasn't seen in days and he longs to just touch her, just for a moment.

"Yeah," he breathes and she looks over it him, her eyes meeting his and he immediately turns away, moving towards one of the couches. "Um…you wanna sit?"

"O-okay," she says and steps in front of a chair and they face each other, both watching the other cautiously before slowly lowering to sit.

Charlotte tugs at her shorts, wishing that she'd changed, as they ride higher up her thighs and Justin's mouth goes slightly dry at the sight of so much of her skin. He didn't get a chance to really look at her when they'd… His mind snaps back and he forces himself to focus, chewing his bottom lip slowly as he watches her fidget in her chair.

The silence is starting to stretch between them again, the clock ticking away the seconds and he fights the urge to hum to himself just to fill it. Her eyes are resolutely on her knees, poking at a scar he'd never even noticed and he wonders how she got that. His brain snaps back again and he has to fix this. He clears his throat and opens his mouth even though he has no idea what he's going to say.

"Charlotte, I understand if you're angry with me," he says softly and her head snaps up at the formalness of his tone, her brows drawing together slightly. "But I don't want the whole trip to be like this. We have too much to accomplish this week to be not speaking to each other."

Charlotte fights the swell of anger inside her, working very hard to keep her face blank and stoic. Of all the things that he could have said to her, of all the things that they needed to discuss, that was what he wanted to say? He's looking at her steadily, leaning forward so that his elbows rest on his knees, his palms pressed together and he looks as if he's reprimanding her for some mistake she'd made on the job. His demeanor is strictly professional and she has the urge to remind him that they have fucked each other and this farce that he's just her boss is slightly absurd.

"We just…" he sighs, sitting so that his back is straight, his hands gesturing casually. "We need to put aside our differences for business sake… so we can have a productive trip…"

What the hell is he saying? This is what happens when he doesn't have a clear plan, he comes up with something on the fly and while there is some truth to it - they really couldn't get much work done if they weren't speaking - he'd missed his point entirely. He consoles himself in thinking that this was just to get them talking again, just a way to open the door of communication. As he takes in the slight wrinkle between her eyebrows he's beginning to think that maybe that wasn't the best way to have done it.

"Right," she says, with a nod, her face smoothing. "Of course, I'm sorry."

"Don't…don't be sorry," he says, scrambling for words even though his voice is calm. "Just…we just have to talk to each other Charlie," he breathes and the slight flinch of her cheek as he says her name causes his heart to crack a little. "Charlotte…I mean," he adds with a sigh. "Sorry."

She studies him for a moment, taking in the smoothness of his face and the casual tilt of his head. But as she looks closer she can see the straightness of his back has little to do with professionalism, his shoulders tense and his hands don't just rest on his knees, they're pressing against them, palms rubbing against the denim of his jeans anxiously. His eyes flit to the ground as his tongue snakes out to wet his lips and she realizes that he's not feeling professional at all. He's nervous. And suddenly it's as if the past few weeks never happened and she can read him again, his fear and guilt showing through his eyes, uncertainty and doubt. This is his way of trying to bridge the gap. He's trying to make it right. He's trying. For her.

"Okay," she says simply and offers him her first smile in a week and he breathes out slowly, a weight lifting itself from his chest and he's surprised at how light he feels.

Her brain calls her an idiot. How can she be pacified simply by the fact that he's trying? How can she have so little respect for herself that she'll just let him get by with such a lame apology? It wasn't even an apology at all, more like a reprimand

But he breathes out slowly then, a smile pulling across his face and she's too dazed by its brilliance to think much else, "Okay," he says softly.

They're quiet again but this time it's calm, each just looking at the other and the search for something to say isn't desperate, just awkward and they each start to chuckle a little at their own ridiculousness. She was hoping that he'd have more to say, but the longer she waits she wonders if he's lost his courage. Her brain cries indignantly that there is more to be said, but she doesn't want to push. After all, he has more to lose in this than she does, his entire life as opposed to just her job and maybe he needs more time. Her head cautions that she's doing it again, making excuses for him and she bites her lip, her head and heart warring with each other again. Her heart argues feebly that they're friends and you're supposed to believe the best of your friends but she knows that she's too close to him, needs to pull back just a little, to spare herself in the end.

"Well if that's all, I'm just gonna…" Charlotte trails, jutting her thumb towards the door as she pulls herself to her feet and Justin's brows draw in alarm.

"You don't wanna hang out?" he asks and she blinks at him slowly, uncertainty settling in her.

"Justin it's late," she says, her voice cautious and he gives her a perplexed look.

"It's like nine-thirty," he chuckles and she laughs too, biting her lip at how forced it sounds but she's used to laughing when he laughs; it's almost a habit.

"Yeah but…I mean…shouldn't we…we can't…" she stutters trying to formulate what she wants to say.

They're in uncharted territory now. What a few weeks ago would have been hanging out and chatting is now fettered with subtext and intentions unknown. Sex changes everything, she thinks bitterly and as much as she wants him to breach the subject she isn't sure he was going to. She watches her big toe dig a hole in the plush carpet, trying to choose her words carefully.

"Last time we were together this late…" she starts but finds she can't finish, her throat constricting and she can feel the air change around her, thickening with tension so potent it threatens to suffocate her.

She hears him chuckle, more a sound of surprise than of humor as if his brain got confused and all he could do was laugh. He clears his throat. "Touché," he utters bitterly and she feels dread settle in the pit of her stomach. "Sit down Charlie…Charlotte…sorry."

She takes her seat again, not meeting his eyes until she's settled and finds him sitting forward again, his palms pressed together, the tips of his fingers white from the pressure with which he's pushing them together. She tries to swallow, her throat dry and she waits for him to speak.

"What…what happened…" he starts and he's not looking at her but at the table next to her, his voice careful as if he's choosing every word with the utmost caution. "What happened between us…it….it shouldn't have happened…"

It's like a bullet to the chest, the pain quick and fierce and she has to clench her jaw to fight the lump in her throat.

"But it did happen," he adds quickly and then he meets her eyes finally, sorrow and regret filling his sapphire orbs and she marvels at how every emotion he has can show right through his eyes. "Yeah it was…" he pauses looking down again trying to find the words and then settles on "wrong." He winces as if unsatisfied by his choice. "But I don't…I don't want you to think that I…" He looks up at her again. "I don't want you to think I resent you. Or that I regret it…" he winces again as if he thinks he shouldn't have said it. "I just…I can't…there's nothing I can-"

"Don't," she says suddenly and he cuts off immediately, finding her shaking her head slowly. "You don't owe me anything."

"But-"

"All I ever want from you is honesty, Justin," she says softly and his lips part slightly at her confession, marveling at her.

It was so simple yet infinitely complicated. It was a lot more than some piece of jewelry from Harry Winston but he found that he was more willing to give it. Maybe because it didn't feel like a cop out, not an atonement for his actions but a promise that he would try and be better. He offers her a small smile before sighing and dropping his head, reaching his hands up to run through his hair but once again finds it gone, rubbing his head roughly instead. He wants so much to talk to her, his chest feeling as if it will burst from keeping all these emotions inside him.

"I just want you to talk to me," she adds quietly and he doesn't miss the tremble in her voice. "I don't…I don't wanna lose you." His eyes snap to her, finding her wringing her hands, her fingers tangled together tightly. "I mean…you're my best friend," she says finally looking up at him and the feeble smile she gives him sends a wave of tenderness through him.

"I'm sorry," he says and it's like a huge weight has lifted from his chest. "I'm sorry that I was such a douche-"

"I'm sorry too," she cuts him off as if she's been waiting to say it as well and they both offer a weak smile which grows when they realize they're okay.

"This was just something that happened," he says with a shrug, the lightness in his chest making him slightly giddy and she nods in agreement his excitement contagious. "It was an accident and…it doesn't define us."

"Not at all," Charlotte says seriously but finds she can't keep a straight face, a giggle pulling from her throat and he chuckles as well.

He sighs, falling back against the couch as he rubs his hands over his face and he's suddenly exhausted, his muscles sore from being so tense for so long. He lets his arms fall to his sides and looks over at her, finding her watching him slightly amused, her hands folded in her lap. He leans forward again and before he can even stop them the words just pour out of his mouth.

"I just… I've never cheated on anyone before…" he breathes quietly, the confession sucking the air right out of his lungs and the guilt constricts his throat, making it hard to swallow.

He trails then as if suddenly remembering who he's speaking to. He finds that he doesn't really want to explain this to her. He's never been anything but honest with her and he doesn't want that to change. But he also knows that this subject is delicate and her feelings could be trampled. He'll do anything to avoid hurting her.

"You've never cheated before?" she asks and he looks up at her blinking slowly, caught off guard by her question.

"No…I haven't," he says slowly, finding her perplexity a little strange and he's offended when she narrows her eyes as if debating if he's lying. "What I haven't!" he says, his voice slightly defensive.

"I'm not saying…I'm sorry I just…" Charlotte struggles with what to say caught off guard by his sudden irritation and she stutters. "I just thought you and Patti…"

Justin's eyebrows race to his hairline as he coughs out a sound of surprise. "What?" he asks, disbelief ringing in his voice.

"Well I didn't know," Charlotte says, a blush creeping up her neck as he starts to laugh loudly.

"Are you kidding me?" he asks and she chuckles sheepishly herself. "You honestly thought I was banging the wedding planner? Charlie, I'm offended!" he teases and then sighs. "Charlotte, I mean." He waves his hand disinterestedly. "Sorry."

"Well what do you expect?" Charlotte asks, slightly defensive now herself as he continues to laugh and she can't help her own smile. "That one time in your office-"

His laughter stops abruptly and his brows crease as he cuts her off. "You said you believed me!"

"Well yeah but I mean it was pretty incriminating."

"She was straightening my tie!" Justin insists and Charlotte gives him a dubious look that causes him to scowl.

"What am I supposed to think with Amelia purposefully parading women in front of you¬-" her voice cuts off abruptly, her eyes going wide and there goes her mouth again.

For a moment Justin thinks she's stopped because she's mentioned Amelia and while the sudden memory of his fiancé was a little jarring he doesn't think it constitutes the full blush that is coloring Charlotte's cheeks. But as he starts to process her words he begins to understand and anger begins to well inside him.

"What do you mean parading women in front of me?" he asks evenly and Charlotte looks away, refusing to meet his eyes. He can feel his shoulders tighten. "Charlotte…"

"Don't do this to me Justin," she begs and when her eyes meet his she's pleading with him. "Its not fair."

"Oh and it's fair for her to have some kind of secret plan that she's sharing with all her fucking assistants and making me look like a goddamn idiot?" Justin asks, his voice angry and as much as he loves Amelia sometimes he really fucking hates her.

"She's not sharing it with everyone!" Charlotte insists, her voice careful, trying to soothe. "I think she just told me. I'm…" she chuckles slightly. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."

Justin looks up at her, eyes ablaze with anger. Amelia had one of her assistants keeping an eye on him? Like he needed some kind of goddamn babysitter to make sure he wasn't fucking every woman in sight. He's offended and hurt but finds that he's not entirely surprised. In fact he's a little shocked over the fact that just one of her assistants and not some private detective is watching him. But worse still is the idea that Amelia is dangling women in front of him, testing him in an attempt to see if he'd stray. The fact that she thinks he'd actually fall for it, that he'd need to be watched by Charlotte just to make sure he was staying true to her stung worst of all.

"Come on, Justin!" she says and then looks as if she has something she wants to say but is thinking better of it. She chuckles, shaking her head as she decides to say it anyway. "You have to appreciate the irony." She blushes slightly.

He laughs awkwardly, his own blush creeping up his neck and he sighs, rubbing his hands over his face again before resting his chin on his hand and looking at her tiredly.

"Fuck I need…" he trails, not really knowing what he needs, stretching his arms over his head and they both wince as his back pops loudly and he groans as his muscles stretch unwillingly.

A yawn pulls from his throat as he falls back limply against the couch and his eyes slink from her to the view behind her, the sky now a dark purple, the daylight almost completely gone. The leafy plants that are scattered around the veranda are swaying in the breeze and he nearly moans when his eyes fall on the hot tub. That's exactly what he needs after the week he's had.

"Dude we're getting in that hot tub," he says, pushing himself off the couch and situating his hands on his hips as he looks down at her. "Come on get up and go put your suit on," he says gesturing for her to move.

Charlotte's eyes widen and she coughs out a laugh at his bossiness, uncertainty tightening in her chest. She cranes her neck, looking over her shoulder at the tub on the deck and she's the first to admit that they both need a little stress relief. But she bites her lip thinking that getting in that hot tub with him would only lead to other kinds of stress relief and they'd agreed it wouldn't happen again. It can't happen again. She purses her lips.

"How about you go get your swimsuit on and I'll get the bubbles going. Do you want room service? Some wine or something?" she asks and his brows draw, perplexity showing through his eyes.

She doesn't want to hang out with him? He thought they were better! What could he…but then she gives him an exasperated sigh and a pointed look and he suddenly understands. They can't do that. His neck reddens and he reaches up to scratch his ear nervously. He's going to have to get used to this, the things that they can and can't do together and he can't help the slight pang of sadness over this realization.

"Yeah," he says with a nervous chuckle. "Yeah some wine would be good."

He waits a beat, watching her carefully before turning and disappearing around the corner and she heaves a great sigh, letting her head fall back. She is almost sure this is going to be harder than they think but she doesn't know the alternative. They're too much a part of each other to just give up. The past week has been proof enough of that. After she calls downstairs and orders a bottle of wine, she shuffles out to the deck, the California air lifting her hair from her neck as she surveys the skyline, still marveling at the view. She'd wondered why Amelia had wanted her to book him the penthouse, three bedrooms and a dining room that could seat twelve seeming a little outrageous just for one man but now she understands. She sighs, pulling her eyes away and turning them to the hot tub which is large enough to fit at least ten people. Maybe she could change and just sit across from him…no, no that's just asking for trouble. She sighs, moving to grab for the cover but finds that there is no handle. In fact, this doesn't looking like any hot tub she has ever seen and she stares at it for a few moments before leaning down and poking around the sides, trying to see if there is some kind of button she needs to push.

Justin sighs as he pads his way back through the living room but he stops dead in his tracks in the doorway, all the blood leaving his brain suddenly at the sight of Charlotte bent over in front of the hot tub. Her shorts have ridden up her thighs, her ass tight inside the fabric and he shakes his head slowly, trying to clear it, forcing himself to calm down. He's not thirteen for godsake. But thankfully she straightens, making it a little easier for him to concentrate and as his brain clears he notices that she looks utterly confused, her hand reaching up to run through her damp hair in thought, the locks sticking wetly to her fingers.

"Need some help?" he asks and her eyes snap to him, her mouth going dry.

Charlotte stutters slightly as she takes in his naked torso, a white towel thrown casually over his shoulder. His swim trunks hang low on his slim hips, his chest smooth and white and she swallows hard as she surveys the broad expanse of his shoulders and the bulge of his biceps, the large celtic cross tattooed along one arm pulled taught and standing out starkly against his creamy skin. She's shocked slightly by it, along with the small smattering of tattoos around his calves finding them unexpected but not unlike him. She is now achingly aware that she didn't exactly get to look at him when they'd… her eyes snap to the ground.

"I…uh… this thing," she says gesturing towards the hot tub and tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's um…too fancy for me." She chuckles dumbly.

"Oh the switch is in here," he says, and she watches his chest pull taut as he leans back inside to reach around the curtain and a low grinding sound fills the air as the cover pulls back from the hot tub, revealing clear blue water inside. After a moment it begins to bubble.

"Oh," Charlotte says dumbly, still slightly dazed as he walks towards her and she licks her lips as he moves to stand directly in front of her, his body a little too close for comfort. "Room service is on its way," she says quickly, trying to avoid looking at him, trying to ignore the heat of his skin, his chest so close and begging to be touched.

"Okay," he says, his voice deep and quiet and he knows he should pull back but at this distance he can smell the mint of her shampoo, the cleanness of her skin. Something about a woman right after she gets out of the shower…

"Room service!"

Charlotte jumps back immediately as a voice hollers from inside and she doesn't trust herself to glance back as she turns to run back into the room. Justin watches her go, the slight bounce of her ass hypnotizing as she hurries inside and out of sight. He shakes his head slowly, dazed and wobbly and he can't even remember the last time he was this affected by a woman. Sex always did that to him, made him so much more aware of the curves of her body, the smell of her skin and the want, the pull in his belly was always so much stronger. His mind wanders briefly, flicking to Charlotte's legs wrapped around his waist, fingers in his hair and then spirals off into fantasy, her bent over his desk, straddling him in the hot tub, on her back in his bed. He jerks his head to the side, trying to wrench the thought from his brain. He can't think that way, has to control himself. Amelia's face floats into his mind and the duality of his guilt chokes him, sickened by the fact that he's fantasizing so willingly about another woman and ashamed that in order to quell that guilt his mind bent Charlotte into positions of his liking, cheapening it and making it something dirty, making it meaningless.

"I got a rosé because I wasn't sure what you wanted," Charlotte says, her eyes surveying the bottle as she walks out, a wine glass in her hand and her hair is beginning to dry now, fuzzy and tangled and he longs to run his hands through it.

"That's fine," he says, dropping his towel on one of the lounge chairs before rounding the tub and climbing up the stairs to the little deck that surrounds it.

Charlotte is tipping the pink liquid into the glass when she hears him hiss and the glass nearly slips from her fingers as her mind is driven back to when he'd hissed in her ear, his body pulling pleasure from her she'd never even imagined and she fights against the memory. They were over that. It wasn't going to happen again, so there was no use torturing herself with remembrances of his skin and his mouth. She shifts slightly, setting the wine bottle on the wooden deck next to him.

"Here you go," she says softly, holding out the glass and when her eyes flick to him she finds him submerged up to his freckled shoulders and his hands are waving underneath the bubbles, his eyes watching them amusedly. She can't help but smile.

"Oh thanks," he says, pulling a dripping hand out of the water and his fingers brush hers as he takes the wine, swirling it in his glass before taking a sip.

He smacks his lips, raising his eyebrows as if pleased and she watches him for a moment, her heart fluttering in her chest. She feels like this was a near miss, that she could have lost him tonight, really lost him. She knows she still needs the space because sometimes the line between friendship and romance blurs in her head but she doesn't want to lose him. What it comes down to is that she wants him in her life and when he looks up at her, the warmness in his eyes says that he feels the same.

"I should go," she says softly and his brow wrinkles, a slight pout pulling at his full lips.

"Come on Charlie you know you wanna put your feet in," Justin says, bringing his glass to his lips and her stomach flutters at the quick grin he gives her before his lips curl around the rim of a glass. "Charlotte I mean…sorry."

"Oh quit," she says, rolling her eyes as she rests her elbows on the edge of the pool, propping her chin on her hands. "The apology is worse than the stupid nickname."

He smirks. "Knew I'd wear you down eventually," he says reaching behind him to set his glass on the deck next to the bottle and situates himself more firmly in the water. "Mmm you sure you don't wanna put your feet in?"

Charlotte's mouth goes dry at the way his eyes sink closed and his head tips back, the long column of his neck stretching tight as he relaxes and she shakes her head. She needs to get out of here.

"Nah, you enjoy the quiet," she says, reaching to pat his shoulder affectionately before turning to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What time?" he asks, his voice lazy and she can tell just by the sound of it that his eyes are still closed.

"Seven," she says as she crosses the threshold and she can hear the sound of derision pull from his throat.

As she's making her way through the expansive living room she's stopped by the shrill ring of his cell phone, the accompanying vibration rattling against the glass of the coffee table and nearly wiggling it to the floor. Charlotte reaches for it, checking the caller ID on the front as she moves back towards the door to bring it to him. But she stops suddenly, seeing that the screen reads "Amelia" and an uneasiness settles over her as she debates whether or not to bring it to him. She tells herself it's because he's trying to relax and she doesn't want to disturb him. She tells herself it has nothing to do with the fact that it's his fiancé on the line. She's not that girl. She doesn't purposefully go after taken men. Although she can't help the quiet part of her that triumphs in the fact that she's with him now and Amelia is so far away. She closes her eyes, the ringing of the phone continuing on and her fingers curl tightly around small plastic device, trying to silence it but her conscious gets the better or her.

"Justin, your phone-" she starts as she hurries back out onto the veranda but her voice cuts off as the ringing does and the three quick beeps announce he's missed the call, "-was ringing. Sorry."

She feels guilty as she pads back over, holding her hand out and he sits up a little in the water, taking the phone from her and flicking it open. He cringes when he sees Amelia's name in his call log and he knows she's probably just calling to make sure that he's going to bed at a decent time, is ready for his meetings tomorrow, found something in his closet she wants to get rid of. His thumb hovers over the send button but he hesitates. He doesn't really want to talk to her right now, still not sure as to how he wants to handle the fact that she's had her minions spying on him for god knows how long. They aren't doing a very good job were they? He cringes again.

"I'll call her back later," he says with a shrug, trying to nudge the weight of his guilt off his shoulders as he turns the phone off, knowing she'll call over and over and over again if he doesn't answer.

"Okay, well…" Charlotte trails, shifting awkwardly. "Good night. Again." She chuckles awkwardly as she turns away to leave.

"Charlotte come here and put your damn feet in the water," Justin sighs, unable to keep the smile from his voice and she turns, glaring at him exasperatedly before her brow creases as if debating.

She sighs. "Twenty minutes and then I'm leaving," she says firmly as she walks around behind him and he grins triumphantly, feeling her climbing up the stairs behind him.

She walks around the deck, putting a good two feet between them before she crouches down and lets her legs slip into the water, groaning slightly as the water caresses her calves sensually. Justin watches her as she settles, kicking her feet back and forth lazily through the frothy water and she reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears before taking a deep breath and heaving it out in a sigh, turning her face up towards the sky, her eyes closed, seeming to enjoy the warm night air.

"This is nice," she breathes after a moment and he smiles, "I was wondering why she made me get you the penthouse. Now I get it."

"Mmm," Justin responds, reaching for his wine glass and taking a sip, trying to push the guilt down.

"Did you like living here?" Charlotte asks regarding him curiously and he smiles, his eyes surveying the dark mountains in the distance, the lights of Beverly Hills twinkling merrily at him.

"Yeah," he says, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I did." He drains his glass.

"Why'd you move?" she asks, her eyes riveted on the distance and when he doesn't respond she looks at him, finding him giving her a pointed look. "Oh…right." She chuckles.

"She likes New York," Justin says with a shrug, pouring himself another glass of wine. "You want one?"

Charlotte opens her mouth to respond but finds she can't fight her chuckle of disbelief. She purses her lips, scrunching up her nose as she shakes her head. He can't help but grin.

"What you think I'm trying to get you drunk?" he asks, sipping his glass slowly, his blue eyes twinkling. "Think I'm going to have my way with you?" he ventures and laughs as her jaw drops at his brazenness.

"No," she spats, kicking her leg out and splashing him a little.

"Quit!" he whines, pushing some water her way so that it splashes onto her thighs.

"You're so fucking obnoxious!" she exclaims, wiping at her legs and he can't help his eyes following the motions of her hands as he sips at his wine. "Ugh," she growls, reaching over and giving his head a playful shove, the short bristles of his hair scratchy against her palm.

"Hey now!" he exclaims reaching up to rub at his head. "Violence is never the answer," the seriousness of his tone lifting at the end when he can't control his laugh.

Charlotte sighs, regarding him for a moment, her palm still itchy from touching the short strands of his hair and she can't stop the words as they leave her mouth. "I can't believe you shaved your head."

Justin cringes as he watches the wine in his glass swirl, his chest tightening just slightly. He gulps down the last of his glass and the tightness dissipates somewhat as warmth spreads through him. It almost feels wrong to talk about this with Charlotte but at the same time it feels perfectly right. She's his coconspirator in his egregious act but she's also the person he runs to when things aren't going right with Amelia. If he were honest with himself he would agree that they were actually the same thing.

"She likes it that way," he says carefully, pouring himself another glass. "I just felt…"

"You were trying to make it up to her," Charlotte provides evenly, ignoring her own pang of guilt and sadness, trying to be his best friend.

Justin laughs then but there's no humor in it. "Yeah…as stupid as that is," he says with a shrug, sipping from his glass and Charlotte notes that the bottle is nearly half way through. He should probably slow down.

"I dunno your hair isn't quite as bad as that necklace you got her," she teases, hoping to bring up his mood and he narrows his eyes at her.

"What you wouldn't want something like that?" he replies, eyeing her over the rim of his wine glass and she snorts.

"If you bought me something like that I'd think you had something to hide."

They both cringe and there goes her damn mouth again. She takes a deep breath, preparing to apologize but he holds up a hand, closing his eyes and giving her a slight shake of his head. Guilt and sadness burn him and he wishes that it was different, wishes that he could have just kept his hormones in check, wishes that Amelia didn't drive him up a wall, wishes that he wasn't having to navigate through conversational landmines with Charlotte. Most of all he just wishes he could figure it all out. He sets his wine glass down, letting his head tip back, a heavy sigh pulling from his throat and the warmth of the water along with the warmth of the wine is making him drowsy. He gives in to that a little bit, letting his mind go blissfully blank for the first time in days.

They're quiet for awhile, each leaving the other to their own thoughts and Charlotte can't shake off the nagging feeling in her chest, her eyes flicking to Justin's cell phone every now and then as she watches her feet kick back and forth in the water.

"Do you…" Charlotte starts, her mouth going before her brain could quite catch up and she snaps her mouth shut again, not really wanting to ask.

"Do I what?" Justin prompts, not even opening his eyes but he can feel her confliction and she shifts uncomfortably.

"Do you think she's testing us?" Charlotte asks, a wave of nervous heat rolling through her as she utters the words she's been fearing for the past six months.

Justin's eyes snap open, looking up at Charlotte and finding her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her green eyes pensive and unsure. Her arms are locked at her sides, bracing herself against the deck as her legs kick hazily under the surface of the water. Her hair hangs over her shoulders and her cardigan has opened just slightly revealing a thin cotton camisole underneath and its like a punch in the gut when he finds her neck bare, missing the glint of platinum where her compass necklace usually resides.

"No," Justin says shortly, reaching for his wine glass, nearly knocking it over his fingers clumsy from the drink. He should probably slow down but he likes the fuzziness of his brain, the pleasant feeling of untroubled apathy towards everything.

"I just…" Charlotte starts, shifting nervously. "I just feel like she keeps sending me with you on purpose…" Her heart is practically beating out of her chest as she adds. "I feel like she knows…"

Justin snorts, bitterness tugging at the back of his throat and his mouth goes off before he has a chance to stop it. "She doesn't know or care about anyone but herself." He cringes at his own honesty, feeling Charlotte shift next to him and he drains his wine glass.

"She cares about you," Charlotte says softly and Justin winces at the reluctance in her voice, reaching for the wine bottle again.

"Is it sad that part of me blames her for what happened?" Justin asks, concentrating on what's pouring from the bottle and not from his mouth.

Charlotte pauses. "No…I don't think it's sad. I think I'd feel the same way," she replies honestly, and she watches him carefully as he takes a deep swig from his glass.

"You know, in my own head," he says glancing at her briefly before turning his gaze out towards the hills. "I never call it cheating." Charlotte winces and he adds. "Sorry."

"No…" she says with a sigh. "No I don't really either."

"I mean like I said…I've never done anything like this - like that - before. I know how it feels. It's happened to me more than enough times…" he sighs, the guilt burning and fading as his anger burns and fades. Did Amelia really believe that he'd cheat on her? So much that she'd set him up, almost as if trying to prove herself right. "I guess it doesn't seem like cheating because in every way that really matters my relationship with Amelia is fucked beyond all comprehension," he continues bitterly taking another large gulp to quell the hurt in his chest and Charlotte can't help the way her heart has started to pound.

"Yeah except that whole getting married thing," she teases nervously, trying to remind him and herself that this is a very dangerous game they're playing.

He groans, letting his head fall back and she reaches over, snatching his wine glass from between his fingers, thinking that's enough honesty for one night. He looks up startled and watches as she drains the rest of the glass before setting it on the other side of her and giving him a sweet smile.

"You've had enough," she says and he chuckles, rubbing his face wearily.

"I can always drink from the bottle," he teases, reaching for it and she snatches it from his hands.

"No, no," she chides moving to set it on the other side of her as well and Justin chuckles.

"What, not gonna down that one too?" he asks and she gives him a rueful smile. He regards her curiously for a moment before leaning his head back and sighing. "How did my life get so fucked, Charlie?"

Charlotte can't help her laugh and thankfully she's able to keep her mouth shut on all the ways that she can blame this on Amelia.

"And how the hell do you have it so together?" he asks suddenly, causing her eyes to go wide, confusion settling on her.

"What?" she asks her voice jumping an octave.

"You!" Justin exclaims, bringing a hand out of the water to wave in her direction. "You're so together, Charlotte," he says his eyes roving over her face and then down, licking his lips at the thin sheen of perspiration on her chest.

"Me?" Charlotte asks in disbelief and she shakes her head, chuckling. "Are you forgetting that I spent four years and god knows how much money for a degree in a career I don't even like and now I'm working for Satan in high heels."

"And you just slept with your boss' fiancé," Justin giggles before he can stop himself and Charlotte's cheeks flame.

"Yes. Thank you Justin."

"What I'm saying is you don't know what you're gonna do and you're okay with that," he says and she frowns.

"Well I wouldn't exactly say I was okay with it-"

"And you just quit, Charlie! You didn't like it and you quit," he says looking at her slightly mystified. "I mean that was brave."

Charlotte chuckles, blushing slightly at his praise. "Yeah I guess I've got some balls," she says with a chuckle and he smirks.

"At least one of us does," he teases and her cheeks flame. He sighs, a slow smile pulling at his lips "You must have the boys in shambles."

Charlotte jumps as she feels Justin's fingers close around her foot in the water and the urge to jerk back isn't quite as strong as the urge to moan as his fingers start to massage the arch slowly, almost absentmindedly as he tugs her foot a little higher out of the water to examine her nail polish. She blushes, trying to tug her foot back under water and he allows her to but his fingers continue their work under the surface. Friends give each other foot rubs right?

"I…I wouldn't quite say that," she stutters, reaching up to rub at her neck, finding it damp with sweat, the heat from the hot tub warming her and if she was honest with herself she'd say that wasn't the only thing that was heating her up.

"You wouldn't?" Justin asks softly, his thumbs pushing against the ball of her foot and her leg twitches slightly, a soft hum pulling from her throat as her eyelids flutter in pleasure.

The game is getting more risky now and while his brain is fuzzy from the alcohol he knows exactly what he's doing. He just wants to touch her, the thin sheen of sweat on her chest teasing him and she's so close. Butterflies tickle his stomach and guilt burns in his chest but it's not as strong as it has been, the thought that Charlotte is here to watch him, to make sure he's walking a line stinging and burning worse than his shame. And besides, they're just talking and he's only touching her foot.

"N-no," she replies, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "I just…haven't found what I wanted…"

Her eyes travel over his shoulders and up his neck, their eyes meeting and it's as if he's sucked the air right out of her lungs, his fingers reaching around to rub behind her ankle. She feels sweat break out on her upper lip, her body incredibly warm and she wishes she could take off her cardigan.

"What do you want, Charlie?" he asks simply, his fingers working higher and he told himself he wouldn't do this, wouldn't go past her ankle but he is curious as to what she will do if he worked the tired muscles of her calves and her gasp echoes in his head, the warm water all around him doing little to quell the stirring in his groin. He swallows hard, moving back down and reaching for her other foot. "I mean, you've asked me that before. What do you want?" He chuckles, smiling at her in what he hopes is a friendly way, trying so desperately to remain neutral. They can't do this again.

You, Charlotte thinks and thankfully Justin's thumb presses sweetly against the arch of her foot at that exact moment causing her to gasp so the thought doesn't slip out of her mouth on accident. He's peering up at her curiously and the tension wafts around them, thick as the steam in the air and she knows she should pull back, should go back to her room but she doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want to lose his hands on her skin and the sound of his voice. She clears her throat, trying to clear her head. They can't do this.

"I want…" she trails and pauses when his eyes meet hers, peering at her curiously and she smiles slightly as she says, "passion." Justin shivers hard, his fingers stuttering over her ankle as she goes on. "I want love," she says, looking off into the distance and the smile that pulls at her lips dazzles him, "and lust…and sex…and romance." Her shoulders scrunch up to her ears as she sighs and looks at him again, not really registering that his fingers are moving up her calves. "I don't want everything to add up to a perfect equation." Her eyes go to the hills again, caught up in the thought and not realizing that he's scooted closer to her. "I mean I want a mess and…and…" she brings her hands up in front of her gesturing as her face screws up searching for the right word. "and chaos. I want someone to go crazy out of his mind for me," she says with a sigh and then blushes slightly, turning her eyes back towards him. "I mean isn't that-"

She gasps, finding him directly in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs and she doesn't have time to think before his mouth meets hers fiercely. She doesn't think, doesn't question as she lets her arms snake around his shoulders, even though her brain is screaming to stop, they have to stop but her body won't listen, the want curling between them desperately.

She gasps as he pulls her forward, her body sliding into the water and it's almost like the warmth of his hands as they smooth across her chest, pushing at her sweater desperate for her skin. She kisses him dizzy and somewhere in his mind he knows this is wrong, knows that there will be hell to pay in the morning but he wants her, just wants her and right now in his own head it's that simple. She's sweet and she's good and the feel of her fingertips sliding across his shoulder blades makes all the blood rush out of his head and he thinks no more.

Charlotte works her arms out of the wet fabric of her cardigan, the thin strap of her camisole falling off her shoulder as she floats over him, their legs tangling together in an attempt to keep their heads above water. His feet push off the wall, his hands going to her ass to keep them together as he propels them backwards, scrambling for a way to get her pressed against him. Her knees find the bench on either side of his hips, her hands reaching for the side of the tub just over his shoulders, giving herself the leverage to trap his body under hers. They both moan at the feeling of her pressing against him, her head tipping back at the feel of him solid and wanting under the fabric of his swim trunks. He takes the opportunity to drag his lips down her throat, panting at the feel of her hips rocking against his, her hands reaching to fist in his hair and finding none she lets her nails scrape against his scalp instead.

A shiver travels down his spine, his hands squeezing her ass and he has to fight the rise of pleasure that courses through him. His hands smooth up her back, pushing at the wet fabric of her camisole, the stretchiness of the fabric unwilling to part from her wet skin. It's worth it when he gets it off though, his breath panting as her chest is revealed to him. Her back arches as he lifts her, the water aiding him in keeping her chest at his eye level, his lips dragging down the valley between her breasts. She cries out as his lips close around one nipple, his fingers rolling the other slowly, trying desperately to press against him but she's sitting too high. Her fingers claw frantically for his hair, her short nails scratching feebly at his scalp, causing him to moan against her.

His lips close around her other nipple, drawing out a low moan of pleasure as his thumbs hook in the waistband of her shorts and panties, trying to force them down her thighs, the fabric wet and unyielding. She allows her body to float back to aid him, whimpering at the loss of his mouth on her skin but he kisses her feverishly, his tongue sliding against hers as he finally gets her shorts and panties to her knees. She kicks her legs urgently, her hands sliding into the water to grip his waist, her hands slick against his skin, slow from the resistance of the water and he's never felt more alive than when her fingers tangle in the drawstring of his swim trunks, loosening them around his slim waist and reaching inside.

Charlotte's hand closes around him, thick and solid and she just wants to touch him, her fingers, drawing lightly up his shaft and he hisses, reaching for her ass again, pulling her down against him. Her hands move to his waist again, feeling the hardness of his muscles, his heart hammering against his ribs. One of his hands comes between them and she feels him slide against her entrance, bringing himself up to press against her clit, teasing her just slightly before smoothing down again and her back arches as he penetrates her.

His hands go to her waist, his pulse pounding in his ears as she begins to lower herself onto him, her forehead pressing to his as one hand covers his on her waist and the other curls around the back of his neck. The combination of the water bubbling against her skin and the way Justin's body is stretching hers has Charlotte reeling, her thighs trembling and the pull for release is so strong.

"Justin," she whimpers, her hips coming flush against his and she feels the goose bumps break out over his skin at the sound of his name on her lips. So she says it again. "Justin…"

He growls, his feet pressing involuntarily against the bottom of the pool, shifting his hips up into her and the gentle force makes her gasp, her hands settling on his shoulders as he presses deep inside her.

"Are you okay?" he asks, that nagging feeling back that he's pushed to far. He's been told enough times by-

"Yes," she breathes and it's more of an exhalation than an answer to his question, pleasure painted across her face. "God, yes."

He pants, a moan pulling from the back of his throat as he shifts her forward, his arms curling around her back as their chests crush together and her arms wrap around his shoulders. He hears the hitching of her breath, every gasp and whimper as she moves, her mouth right next to his ear. His hands move wetly up and down her back, his chin tucked over her shoulder as he does his best to remain in control. It's easier this time he finds, able to enjoy the pleasure without the constant worry of pushing his release down. He takes the time to really feel her, feel the slick push and pull of her flesh over his, the softness of her skin as it slides slickly against his.

Her pace begins to quicken, a low growl pulling from her throat as her arms slide from his shoulders, moving to grip them in her hands, leaning back just slightly and he's mystified by her, her mouth falling open as sounds of pleasure pull from her throat, the new angle seeming to send her to new heights. Her thighs spread wider over his and he sees stars, his eyes rolling back in his head. Charlotte tries to force her eyes open against the pleasure, tries to watch his face as his cheek twitches and his teeth grit as the feeling overtakes him and his eyes close, head tipping back, mouth falling open.

She uses his shoulders for leverage, bouncing hard against his lap, pulling a quiet shout from him, his hands surging under the water to grip her hips and guide her. He pulls her against him savagely, and he relishes in the roughness, his skin on fire, his body begging for release just as she is, pleading with him desperately. His hand moves to flatten against her lower back, pulling her against him roughly and the movement causes her clit to collide with his hipbone and her hands clutch at his shoulders as fire explodes down her legs. She shouts, her voice ringing in his ears as her back arches, pressing her hips harder against his as her body sucks at him desperately, her orgasm wringing her body out like a sponge.

Her hips slow but don't stop, trying to still bring him pleasure though she's weak and trembling. Her head lolls back, her breath panting as her hands smooth around the back of his neck, fingers itching for his curls but all she can do is scratch at his scalp. She looks down at him, finding him watching her face carefully, lust wild and potent, darkening his eyes to a stormy midnight blue. His lips are slightly parted, breath coming in quick pants and she rolls her hips quickly, her muscles tired and weak but the passion in his eyes fuels her.

"Fuck Charlie," he groans, releasing his neck as his eyes roll back again and her hands keep his head from falling back, rising a little higher so that she can slam down onto him, feeling his thighs tremble beneath her. "Oh fuck…"

His hands claw desperately at her lower back before reaching down and grabbing handfuls of her ass, his hips pressing up into hers as his release hits him full force, his forehead resting against her breast bone, teeth grinding as his coats her insides, the feeling sending pinpricks of pleasure down her spine. Her fingers massage the back of his neck soothingly as he chokes on his own breath, every muscle in his body tight, pushing his release into her.

He lets out a loud groan as his body loosens finally, exhaustion and satisfaction making his brain hazy and clouded and he's so unbelievably hot, the warm water now scalding him. Charlotte trembles over him, her hands still clutching at his shoulders, small whimpers pulling from her throat as she comes down and she can't breathe, the air stifling around them, the thick steam catching in her throat.

They each pull back slightly, trembling hands sliding against skin wet from water and sweat and their wide eyes meet, their breath panting against each other's lips. They can do nothing else but stare at each other blankly and let the wild feelings of confusion set in once again.