17 Chapter 17

“Some of those Saturday nights are in, too, right?” he gasped between kisses.

“Definitely. And Friday nights. And Sunday nights.” Bryce’s hands were as frantic as he pulled at Charlie’s buttons, popping them free. Charlie suspected their clothes were going to be mangled and destroyed by the time they reached the bedroom, but he didn’t care. They were just barriers, standing between him and what he really wanted. “And any other night you’d like.”

At that moment, he wanted all of them. He wanted not to leave the fervent touches behind. He wanted to fuse their bodies together and never get out of bed. He wanted to erase fifteen years of denial and loss, and embrace what he’d missed, what he’d craved. But most of all, he wanted to get this damn tie off. Because his fingers had lost every sense of control the second he touched Bryce.