ceiling, listening to her quiet breaths, feeling her warmth and softness. It made him heady with desire.
He wanted to explore her slowly and intimately this time, staring into her eyes as she came apart beneath him, but he couldn’t bring himself to fuck her gently. He couldn’t let the same emotion slip from the first time. He felt like he’d been cut wide open, and she’d seen all his pain. He couldn’t bring himself to be that transparent again. It made him feel weak and angry and all he wanted to do was hide away, to remain impenetrable. Eight years he had mastered this art; he physically couldn’t confront doing the opposite again.
His eyes trekked to the night table where her cell phone was charging. The sun began to rise, and soon the alarm would go off. She’d get up and start the school rush, and he’d see Penny again, smiling, ready to feed him more hugs.
He smiled softly, looking forward to it.
After eyeing it for so long, he reached out and took the phone off the table, turning it on. She hadn’t hidden her passcode from him, freely accessing it near him multiple times in the day. She had nothing to hide. He entered the pin and went through her phone, starting with her gallery, all pictures of Penny dating from a year ago. He lapped those up, though something tugged inside him to look elsewhere.
When her messages came up, he saw endless conversations. Jem asked how he was, how he was coping, etcetera. He saw messages from Laura, all girl shit. He didn’t pay it any mind.
Finally, he saw messages from Locke, and on a deeper level, that was what he was searching for. As he scrolled through, he found it was one-sided. Locke barely responded back to Charlotte, and Charlotte was catty and flat in most of her texts. Just as he began to consider Locke really had been philanthropic in his attempt to help Charlotte, he found the same strange text randomly scattered throughout the conversations.
The same line used after long periods of time.
A line that made Thames furrow his brow in question.
I need you, Charlotte.
I need you.
I need you.
Charlotte, I need you.
What the fuck?
What did he mean he needed her?
Thames put the phone down, his head a sea of murky thoughts. What the hell did Locke need her for? And she’d never responded every time he’d said it.
He felt like his insides were ablaze. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt hatred for Locke. He hated him for snapping his fingers and demanding his need for a woman that wasn’t his after he was cold and rude to her.
And had his dove gone to him?
The lying snake that he was. This man had promised his woman that he would look after Conor in prison. Such a bold lie.
His hand shook. He ran it down his tired face, aware as ever he was working himself up, and now was the worst time to feed the angry blackhole inside him.
It didn’t have to mean anything.
There was nothing to suggest something bad was happening. Charlotte was his, and he felt it deep in his bones.
But Locke’s demeanour astounded him.
Jem was right. Locke wasn’t that little boy anymore. Thames needed to stop feeling sorry for the guy, and he did. He really did because all he felt now was this pulsing anger coursing through his mind at the mere thought of him using Charlotte.
There was something…something else bubbling under the surface.
“Are you cooking his books?” he asked aloud, his voice breaking the heavy silence.
He’d known she was awake long before he’d picked up the phone. He’d heard the change in her breathing, felt her eyes on him in the dark. It was why he considered fucking her again.
Her response was quick. “Yeah.”
His nostrils flared. “Do you have any idea how dangerous a man like Locke is?”
“A danger to everyone else.”
He looked down at her. “Do you really think he wouldn’t hurt you, Charlotte?”
She answered softly. “He wouldn’t.”
“Then you don’t know a thing about Max Locke.”
She slid her arm off him and sat up. She clasped her hands together in her lap and stared down at them. Her face remained calm as she spoke. “I think I know him more than you, Conor.”
He eyed her for a few moments, wondering if she knew about the hole. She must have, and it wasn’t really a secret, either. It was public knowledge, though nobody talked about it in Blackwater. Like Locke