Unmasking Charlotte (a Taboo Love series) (9 page)

Calvin
(finally!)

I lean on the doorframe of the room where Parker has Charlotte sitting on the bed.
He is on the floor kneeling between her legs. Dammit! That should be me. I look back at my beautiful Charlotte, and she is bombed. When Parker texted me earlier, he said that something is going on with her today. He said that it is something bad, but he can’t tell me exactly what, just that she is a mess right now. I frown hard at the bottle of tequila in her hand and the way she is swaying. A shrill ringing pierces the air. Parker jumps and reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“Hello?” He answers then almost immediately curses and rakes an irritated hand through his hair. “Shit, I forgot all about it…I’m out with a friend…no, I can’t just leave…Goddammit…”

I wave my hand to get his attention. Parker looks at me. “I’ll take care of her,” I say quietly.

Relief flashes in his eyes. “Are you sure, Cal?”

I nod. “I got her, no problem. Go take care of business,” I assure him.

He
gives me a sharp nod then says into his phone, “Tell them that I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” before hanging up.

Parker goes to Charlotte, whispers something to her, gives her a kiss on the cheek then comes to stand in front of me. “I owe ya one, buddy,” he says.

“It’s not a big deal,” I dismiss him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“I’ll give you a call later to see how you made out,” Parker says gratefully.

“Alright, man.”

Parker leaves me to take care of the drunken Charlotte. She’s wearing a pretty floral print poufy short skirt and a baby pink shirt, tucked in, that matches the flowers of her skirt. She has on light tan ankle boots to go with her modernized 50s pinup girl ensemble. Her hair is a mess, though, and she has black streaks of makeup running down her cheeks. I quietly shut the door, closing us into the small room. Charlotte doesn’t even look my way as she takes a swig from the tequila bottle. She hisses as the liquid goes down. I go over to her and take the bottle out of her hand, setting it on the table next to the bed. She doesn’t even fight me, that’s how far gone she is.

“Come on, Pinky, let me take you home,” I murmur softly, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet.

She staggers forward, falling against my chest. She hums as her hands roam up to my shoulders. “So many muscles,” she slurs. “I like muscles.”

I bite back a laugh and slip her mask back on. I pull mine back down over my eyes before I wrap my arm around her waist. I guide her to the door and help her down the steps. The club is already packed and the music is bumpin’. Tonight is Latin night. I like to do Latin night once a month and bring in a DJ. My regulars love it.

We get to the bottom of the steps without
her falling, thankfully. One song ends and
Smooth
by Carlos Santana featuring Rob Thomas starts up. Charlotte immediately perks up and heads toward the dance floor. I follow closely, praying she doesn’t fall. I don’t know what she’s doing, but I feel the need to stay close to her to make sure nothing happens to her. She finds a fairly empty spot and starts dancing by herself.

I’m standing there like a fool watching this woman - who I am seriously in lust with - dancing super sexy all by herself. Her hips are swaying, her eyes are closed, and her arms are moving fluidly with the music. She’s feeling the music and dancing as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, and she is the only person in the room. But, damn, why does she have to be so seductively sexy while doing it? I tug the front of my shirt down in hopes that it covers the bulge growing in my pants.

She then shocks the hell out of me when her bright blue eyes flip open and she crooks her finger at me, wanting me to join her. I shake my head. That is not a good idea. Well, she doesn’t accept that answer; she grabs my hand and pulls me into her. My arms instinctively go around her tiny little waist and my thigh somehow ends up between hers. Her fingers lock together at the back of my neck and soon we are swaying and grinding together to the sexy Latin music.

After a couple of songs of her grinding her body against mine, I just can’t take it anymore. My body is on fire and my cock is so hard
that it’s bordering on the side of painful. I have to get her out of here. I grab her hand and drag her out of the club. Once outside, I yank off my mask and suck in a lungful of the cool night air. It does little to help my scorched skin. I lead Charlotte to my customized 2013 Range Rover and try to get her settled into the passenger seat. I bought these two and half tons of pure sexy a few months ago when I went to a car auction with Nick. I was really just going with him to find something safe for Little Bit, but when I saw my baby all jacked up, I knew I needed to take her home and show her a little TLC. Of course, it helps that I got her for pennies on the dollar. It must have been a rental car or something because it was only a few months old, but looked like it was ridden hard and put away wet. Not to mention the fact that she had no wheels. But with a little elbow grease – okay, more than a little - three fresh coats of pearlized black paint, kick ass pin-striping, top of the line Asanti wheels, a brand spanking new shiny Strut grill, Oracle halo headlights, and 3M black out limo tinting, my baby girl is hooked up! Shit, sorry I got sidetracked a bit. There are a few things that a man will ramble on about if you let him, and his car is one of them. What are the others? Easy – food, sports, women, and sex. Speaking of which…

The hottest woman I have ever seen is lazily lounging in my passenger seat, and I can
’t do shit about it.
Fuck me!
I lean across her soft body attempting to buckle her seat belt, and out of nowhere, she nibbles on my earlobe. My body jumps in shock and I back myself out of the passenger side as quickly as possible. She is seriously fucking with what’s left of my will power.
God dammit!
When I know I am safely out of her reach, I take a deep breath, look up into the sky, and ask for the strength it’s going to take to not do anything I will regret. I take my time walking around to the driver’s side, hoping to cool off a bit.

I get in
to the car and start it up. Charlotte is sitting next to me, giggling quietly to herself. I reach over and take her mask off. I’ve been dying to see her whole face since we left the room in the club. She rolls her head toward me and gives me a lazy drunken smile and a long blink.

“You’re a great dancer, Calvin,” she mutters, reaching over to run her fingers down my arm.

“Thanks,” I huff.

I swear
if she keeps touching me I’m going to lose my shit.

“What’s your address, Charlotte?” I ask.

“Why do you insist on calling me Charlotte?” she asks, and I can hear the slight irritation in her voice.

“Because it’s a beautiful name and you shouldn’t shorten it,” I answer honestly.

She studies my face for a moment. “You’re a sweet guy, Calvin. You know that?”

I snort and fight off the pleased smirk that wants to curl my lips. “Where are we going, Pinky?”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” She giggles again, completely ignoring my question.

I laugh. “Not any time soon.”

Charlotte finally gives me her address and I type it into my navigation system. The ride to her apartment is silent. But it’s a comfortable silence. The more time we spend together, it seems the more comfortable we are with each other. I glance at her a couple of times during the ride. She is just sitting there with a smile on her face and her eyes closed as she rests her head back against the seat.

I pull into the parking garage
of her building and shut the car off. I get out first, go around to her side, and open the door. Charlotte drags herself out and stumbles toward the door that leads into the lobby.

“Thanks fo
r the ride, Calvin!” she calls over her shoulder, her purse swinging loosely from her hand.

I frown at her as I shut the car door and hit the auto lock on my key ring. Does she really think that I’m going to let her walk to her door by herself? I take a few long strides and slip my arm around her waist just as she stumbles. She laughs and grabs onto my shirt for balance.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” I tell her.

She’s still laughing. At least she doesn’t argue. I help her through the lobby and onto the elevator, where she hits the button to her floor. She then moves to snuggle under my arm. I can’t help but pull her closer, letting her rest her body up against mine. I press a small kiss to the top of her curly blonde hair. Her hair smells so good. Like peaches. I can’t help but think that Parker is one luck
y son of a bitch.

Out of the elevator, we start down the hall. Charlotte stops in front of the one that says 4E and starts to fish through her little purse for her keys. She’s still swaying on her feet and she’s making me nervous. I’m scared that the amount of alcohol she consumed will make her throw up in her sleep or something and she’ll aspirate. Maybe I should stay and keep an eye on her. Maybe I’m just looking for reasons to spend more time with her.

She finally opens the door after many tries of putting her key in the lock. She walks in and just leaves the door wide open. Jesus Christ. Would she have done that if I weren’t here? The thought concerns me. I follow her inside and shut the door behind me. Charlotte drops her purse on the kitchen counter on her way down the hall toward what I assume is her bedroom. I take a quick glance around her small apartment. It is fairly tidy and decorated nicely. Pretty much what I expected from a girl like Charlotte.

She then does a
one-eighty, turning on her heel, and walks back toward the kitchen. That’s when I catch something moving out the corner of my eye. When I turn to look where the movement is, there is nothing there. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.

“Do you want something to drink?” Charlotte asks, as she pulls down a glass from a cabinet.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I say, completely distracted by what I just thought I saw.

She pours herself a glass of water and leans against the counter by the sink as she drinks it. I go over to her breakfast bar and sit on one of the stools. I catch movement again, this time I swear I saw a black tail go around the breakfast bar and into the kitchen. I frown. Maybe she has a dog? If so, that’s the quietest dog that I’ve ever encountered.

Then…BAM…a black cat appears on the counter in front of me. I scream like the fucking girl that I am and scramble to get away, effectively falling off the stool and onto my ass. Charlotte sprays water out of her mouth as she starts hysterically laughing.

In the meantime, I’m climbing over the couch because the evil cat is coming at me. He’s meowing and everything. I can only assume that he wants to eat me and take my soul. Oh, have I mentioned that I’m deathly afraid of cats? A serious shit-in-your-pants phobia. Why? I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I was eaten by a tiger in another life, I don’t know.

“Charlotte! Get your cat!” I yell then squeal when it jumps up onto the couch.

Of course, she’s no help because she’s too fucking busy pissing her pants!

“Charlotte!” I cry. “Come on!”

I’m now plastered to the wall in the corner of her living
room with the cat closing in on me. Oh god, I think I might actually pass out. My heart is racing a mile a minute and I’m pretty sure that I’m about to hyperventilate. I’m gonna KILL Parker for this! He must know that she has a cat. The least he could have done was warn me so I could have stayed in the fucking hallway. He knows how I feel about cats!

“You mean to tell me that you don’t like my pussy?” Charlotte giggles naughtily, as she drunkenly makes her way over to me.

“Fuck no! Please, please, please get it away from me,” I pant.

She grabs the cat just before he goes to rub his creepy little black body against my legs. She coos and pets him affectionately. She smiles mischievously up at me, but blinks innocently. I don’t trust that look on her face. She suddenly thrusts the cat out, practically shoving him into my face. I scream, squeezing my eyes shut, and turning my head away. The cat meows right in my face and I scream again. I swear to god, this is the only thing that can bring this big black man to his knees. A fucking cat!

Charlotte bursts out laughing and takes the cat away from my face. “Aw, he just wants to say hi to his brotha from anotha motha,” she chuckles.

“Oh, that’s fucking funny, Charlotte. I’m black, he’s black, so funny I forgot to laugh,” I sneer.

She cracks up all over again as she goes and puts the cat in the bathroom, shutting him in there.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown man so afraid of a cat before,” she laughs, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything,” I mutter, as I unglue myself from the corner.

Charlotte motions for me to follow her so I do, down the hall. As I pass the bathroom, a cat paw swipes out from under the door. “Oh, Jesus!” I exclaim and jump to get away, bumping into the opposite wall.

We get to her bedroom and I have to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down and try to forget about that crazy cat. I stay standing by the door as she flips on a lamp. Her room is decorated in deep purples and silvers. Three out of the four walls are gray with one deep purple accent wall. Even though it’s purple, it’s not overly girly or frilly. It fits her perfectly.