Business Casual (Lovelight, #4)

by B.K. Borison

“I would like your help.” A bemused smile curls his lips. “Okay.” “With the business thing and with another thing too.” He nods, confused. “All right. I’ll help you with whatever you need, Nova. You know that.” “Good, because I’d like you to walk me home.” I swallow down the butterflies. “And then I’d like for you to stay.”

I take up too much space, I want to tell her. I’m loud and sometimes I don’t know how to stop talking. I’m a lot and I know that. I can’t figure out how to make myself fit, but I’m trying. I promise I’m trying.

I let myself want. “Well, stop it,” I breathe. Charlie looks at me, exhausted, one hand anchored against the back of his neck. He releases it with a sigh and props himself against the wall at my side, his palm against the brick, his long body slouched in exasperation. Loose lines and slumped shoulders. “Sure, all right,” he says. “What should I stop?” “Stop holding yourself together,” I tell him, and then I do exactly what I’ve wanted to do every single time I’ve seen him since he left me in my bed with a Post-it note smiley face and a hickey on my neck. I do the thing I told myself I wasn’t allowed to do. I press up on my toes, cup Charlie’s face in my hands, and I kiss him.

“More than that,” I whisper back. We’re slowly moving closer together. My nose brushes his. “I’ve been wanting you, Charlie. I can’t stop thinking about all the things we didn’t get to do.”

“Business casual,” I say again, the idea growing on me. Yes, that’s exactly what I want. Something casual but with parameters in place so neither of us can hurt the other. I tuck my finger in the collar of his sweater and tug him closer. “It means this only lasts as long as we want it to. It also means…” I tip my chin up and nip lightly at his bottom lip. “It also means if I’m fucking you, no one else is.” I’m still figuring out what I do and I don’t want, but I know for a fact I don’t want to share Charlie with anyone else. His eyes flash dark and his breath catches, an inhale that lasts an extra beat. I watch with interest as his tongue wets his bottom lip. I have no right to be possessive over him, but I am, and I think he likes it. I think he likes it a lot. “Are you using corporate speak to turn me on, Nova?” “That was not my intention.” “The results seem to be in your favor.” His fingers flex where they rest against the back of my neck. “Business casual,”

“I wanted to kiss you in my kitchen, and I wanted to peel off your sweater. I wanted to put you on your knees and wrap your braid around my fist. Fuck, Nova.” Another breath explodes out of him. “Every time I look at you, I only want you more. I want to keep you in this lace and I want to rip it off. I want to fuck you until neither of us can move.”

It’s just me and Charlie and all the things he makes me feel. He seems to agree because he presses his mouth to me again without another word, his gentle, teasing rhythm slipping into something rough and desperate. He winds me up higher and higher, one hand sliding over my torso to my chest. He strokes his thumb over my rose, then grabs me roughly, pinching my nipple with two fingers. The bright burst of pain and the rough press of his mouth are enough to have me stumbling to the edge, the low grunt that vibrates between my legs sending me over it. Heat tugs at everything, a blissful pulse that rolls and rolls and rolls. I have to close my eyes against it. Have to curl both hands around the pillow by my head and squeeze so I’m not swept away. Hands tug at my hips as Charlie rolls me over on my hands and knees. I go willingly, legs shaking and hair in my face. My body is suffused with tiny pinpricks of light. A sunbeam shot through

cracked glass, rainbows spinning out across the room. I vaguely register the sound of foil ripping, the shuffle of fabric being moved out of the way. Charlie tugs my underwear to the side and holds it there with his thumb, then pushes into me with a groaning, growling burst of breath. “Fuck,” he says. He holds himself still against me, his hands tight around my hips. “Fuck,” he says again. I’m all sensation. A blissed-out, half-delirious laugh tumbles out of me. He feels so good. Exactly right. Exactly what I’ve been needing. I reach back and grab his hand on my hip, needing to feel him. Needing to be connected to something while all of this golden light rushes through my body. His hand squeezes mine. “You’re gonna win, Nova girl,” he breathes, his body moving against mine. He threads our fingers together at my hip and holds me tighter. “Fuck, you feel so good. And you look—” His hand sweeps down my side, over the tattoos painted along my rib cage.

“You look so pretty I think I’m having a heart attack,” he mumbles. He pulls out of me, groans, and then pushes back in half a second later. If he was trying to hold himself back, he’s not doing a very good job of it. “You’re definitely going to win. I’m going to last ten seconds, max.” Another laugh wheezes into a whine when he picks up his pace. I don’t care who wins this stupid contest. “I think we’ve both won, don’t you?” He doesn’t answer me with words. He just moves his body into mine, a smooth rolling rhythm that picks up speed and ferocity as the thread of his composure begins to unravel. He slaps one hand on the inside of my thigh, the snap of it urging my legs wider. I fall farther into the couch with a groan, my bare breasts rubbing against the soft material with every thrust. I feel myself start to climb again and Charlie curses behind...

giving out and sending us both tumbling to the couch. I laugh and screech, body flailing, but Charlie yanks me up to him with my back to his chest, chasing his pleasure and drawing out my own. The angle makes him slide deeper, my legs spread wide over his. I throw my head back over his shoulder, and he cups his hand at the base of my throat, holding me to him, his breathing harsh in my ear. I’m surrounded by him in the best of ways, held safe and tight in the cage of his arms. I stroke my fingers across his forearm and encourage his fingers to press harder against my throat, and his body goes rigid against mine. He makes a sound against my ear, thumb tracing lightly over my pulse point. Relief. Disbelief. Bone-deep pleasure. We collapse, Ch...

That’s how it goes with Nova. Every time I’m with her, it’s like a vacuum of time and space until there’s nothing but her smoky laugh and her dark blond hair. Careful touches and wicked grins. She reduces me to ash with the flick of her finger.

“Is it considered work if it’s what you love?” Caleb scoffs. “Do you love investment banking?” No. In fact, I’m starting to think I hate it. But it’s too late for me to pick a different path. I’ve firmly built my life around my career and everything I’ve accomplished in New York. These trips I make to Inglewild and Lovelight are a chance for me to catch my breath. Happiness distributed in increments. I’m afraid if I get too greedy for something more, it’ll all go up in a cloud of smoke. Best to take what I can get.

“The support I’ve given you doesn’t come with a price tag. That’s not how this works. I’m your brother and I love you. You don’t have to hit a certain metric for that love to make sense. It’s not going away and you don’t have to earn it. It just…exists. It’s there. I’ve already given it to you.”

I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine…except I can’t stop thinking about a woman I have no business thinking about and I’m pretty sure I’m having feelings that can no longer be categorized as business casual. And isn’t that a fucking joke? To want another thing that is so far outside my reach it’s laughable.

“So, that’s the answer. That’s why I’m always here. Because I don’t feel so empty when I’m spending time in Inglewild. I know it’s not where I’m supposed to be, but I like to pretend it could be.”

“Why?” “Because—” I try to figure it out for myself, why I started drawing them on a pizza box while Charlie sat on the couch next to me, trying so damn hard to keep himself in bloom. “Probably because your eyes remind me of page seventy-three in the Encyclopedia of Plants and Flowers. Forget-me-not blue.” Charlie swallows and looks back down at the flower on his wrist. “What does it symbolize?” He shifts in his seat like he’s afraid of the answer. “This flower. What does it mean?” “Fidelity,” I explain. “Loyalty and respect.” Charlie keeps looking at the flower. “You respect me?” “One of the most beautiful things about you is your big heart and your faithfulness to the people you care about. I know you think you’re being selfish, taking affection for yourself, but you’re not. It’s generosity. The best sort of love. I know you feel like you need to earn your place, Charlie, but you don’t. Not in this town and not”—not with me, I almost say—“not anywhere else.”

“It’s just yours,” I whisper to Charlie. “Yours to have and yours to keep. You don’t have to earn anything. You belong here. And I…I wanted to give you this flower because I want you to know that you don’t have to be anything other than exactly who you are. I know you’ve been hiding, Charlie. But I see all of your colors. The bright ones and the dark ones too. I see how you’re always tilting toward the sun. Forget-me-nots were always my favorite, and—well. You’re kind of my favorite too.”

Forget-me-not blue. “I’ve never been anyone’s favorite,” he whispers. “Well,” I say, feeling defensive. “You’re mine.”

“Nova,” he whispers, somewhere against my mouth. “I don’t think my feelings are business casual.” I sigh into him. I hold on to him wherever I can reach. “I don’t think mine are either.”

Together is exactly where I want to be, but it feels a million miles away from where I’m going.

I’ve taught myself how to be content with scraps. I’ve portioned out the things that make me happy in manageable pieces so that I can savor them for longer. I’ve treated my trips to Inglewild as a reward for good behavior, a hit of dopamine to get me through the rest of an otherwise lonely existence. I’ve allowed myself doses of happiness while I cling to it with two hands, terrified if I indulge too much, if I give too much of myself, I’ll be left standing without anything at all.