The Godfather's Love (Erika and Charles) novel Chapter 6

Chapter 6

+45 Coins

Atop a high-rise apartment in downtown Seattle, the city’s blurred nightscape stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Neon light pollution washed out the stars, but it didn’t dim the heat rising inside the room.

Evelyn wore nothing but Charles’s white dress shirt. The hem just barely covered the tops of her thighs. She moved barefoot across the handwoven Persian rug, two glasses of whiskey in hand.

She handed one to him. With the other, she took a sip, her lips brushing the rim as she drank from his hand. The amber liquid slid past her mouth,

leaving behind a glistening sheen.

“Mr. Nell…” Her voice was syrupy-sweet, thick with the haze of alcohol. She leaned in, breath warm and slow. “Don’t go tonight, okay?”

Her hand slid up his shoulder. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, her fingers traced slow, suggestive circles. Charles looked down at her.

Her cheeks were flushed from the whiskey. In her eyes, there was no pretense-only open hunger and adoration. She burned like a flame, all untamed youth and ambition, so different from his wife-his always composed, elegant, almost untouchably restrained Erika.

This fire had, over the past few months, nearly scorched a hole through his carefully calculated, bloodstained world. It let in a thrill he had almost forgotten-a man’s craving for danger and vanity.

He took the whiskey from her hand and drank deep. The burn lit up his throat and sparked heat in his veins.

Evelyn pressed into him, her soft body molding against his chest. Her lips brushed along his jaw, slow kisses tracing upward, searching for his mouth.

“Call me Charles…” he murmured, his voice hoarse, tight with restraint.

No one called him that. Only Erika ever had. But now, he wanted to hear it from someone else.

“Charles…” Evelyn whispered, breathy, cloying. Her hand slipped inside his shirt.

“Charles… I’m so cold…

The room dissolved into haze, desire clouding everything. His hand found the curve of her waist. Beneath the shirt, her skin burned. His breath grew ragged, the last thread of reason stretched taut by liquor and lust.

Evelyn had already undone two buttons on his shirt. Her fingers brushed his chest, soft and deliberate. She looked up at him, eyes glazed with want, lips parted in anticipation-waiting for him to kiss her.

And then, just as his mouth was about to meet hers-